Wrong Place, Right Time: A Hero's Story

by DELTABOT

Summary:

The journey of a hero doesn't always start where they expect. It doesn't always happen to those who expect it. Damon was never interested in being what SPARTANs represent: an implacable force for good standing as humanity's shield. Like most other third-generation SPARTANs, the war took everything from him. All he wanted was to return the favor. Sometimes we don't get a choice.

Chapter 1: A Strange (Not So) New World

The first thing that came to my attention was a persistent, high pitched beep spearing through my head. It felt like someone driving an ice pick in between my ears, but was familiar too; it meant something bad, what was it?

Unfortunately, the head splitting chirp was a pleasure compared to the second sensation: debilitating pain shot through my left arm into my chest like a burning lance. My jaw clenched and back arched in agony. I forgot all about the siren… and anything else that may have been careening through my head at that moment. It felt like someone had put the left side of my chest into a hydraulic press and pushed 'close'. I fought against the mind crushing pain for what seemed like an eternity. The last time I'd felt pain like this… my head was blank. Not just from the agony, but I couldn't remember anything. Nothing was coming out of the fuzzy, dark mess that was my mind. I couldn't draw on any memories, thoughts, nothing outside of the searing agony in my arm.

Now panic worked its way into the party. What was happening? Where was I? Why was I hurt? How'd I get here? Am I-

Breathe.

The word boomed through my panicked mind, a smothering cloud in the torrent of confusion and pain. It was a firm, unyielding voice, a woman I knew well… very well. Who was she?

Don't be a pussy; if you're here to get back at the Covies you better get the fuck up and show me you aren't a failure. I promise I'll ship your ass back to Reach and let them deal with you!

Those words weren't a command, they were a challenge, whoever that was betting I couldn't do it.

Like hell.

I commanded my jaw to unclench; drove my mouth open through sheer force of will and sucked a stiff breath through my teeth. It was like prying open a sealed hatch with my bare hands. But that hatch was going to open dammit. I took another labored breath. And another. And another. I worked my lungs until I was nearly panting from exertion, but my body finally began to unclench. After what, in my mind, was countless gasps for life, it finally started obeying me again.

Slowly, my eyes crept open, but all I could see was the inside of my visor. My visor… I was wearing a helmet. So the siren was coming from that. What did it mean though?

Shields

Shields? My shields were down. Okay… shields for what? The shields, helmet… I'm in some sort of armor? That's right, my armor: MJOLNIR. And that voice- that was Kristina, my DI. What's next? My name- my name was Damon. So I know who I am at least. … That doesn't help much.

I gritted my teeth against the searing pain and pinned my left arm to my side. I got my right hand under me and pushed myself into a sitting position; my gauntleted hand pressing into something soft and gritty, dirt or sand. As the HUD faded into life and the world resolved as my visor cleared, what I saw only fed my confusion. I'd been lying on a hillside overlooking a small town maybe a click away. Or what had been a town at some point in the distant past… and what was a hillside around the same time. The buildings were dilapidated, almost beyond recognition. Many were missing walls, roofs, entire sections were crumbling off into nothing. No house was completely intact and if any repairs had been attempted, it wasn't obvious. The roads were so pockmarked and damaged, I wasn't sure they could be called roads anymore. This town looked like it had seen a war and lost. The area around me was covered in dead trees, brown vegetation, and what grass there was looked sickly and dying. Even the dirt looked more brown and lifeless than it should have. Wind carried some of the soil and plant life as it wisped across the rocky, barren landscape. Everything must have been desert dry.

The hell is going on?

As much as I wanted to stay seated, wait for my arm to change its mind about the pain, stop my head from spinning like a top, and try to get my wits back, I knew staying there was a bad idea; unknown position, unknown territory, remaining out in the open with little or no chance to take stock of the situation was a good way to get killed. How I knew that was still hazy, but instincts were always something to listen to.

So I got my legs under me as diagnostics began scrolling across the HUD: my humerus was fractured just below the shoulder and my rotator cuff was damaged. Shields were down for the time being, estimated repair time said 12 hours. Most of the first aid systems were down, lucky me. Sensor suite was damaged too: motion sensor was out of commission, same with my comms and part of the Hazardous Environments Reaction System. My readout gave me a two day repair time for the first aid unit. The repair time for the suite wasn't listed. I pat my hip where the M6I was… or should have been. The MA5D wasn't on my back either. My knife was still sheathed under my left arm though, and I'd worked with less before- I think.

I began down the hill toward the destroyed town; it didn't seem like there would be anyone living in the dilapidated mess, but either way was fine with me. If there were people in it, they might be able to give me an idea of what was going on. If not I might have some time and quiet to sort out the jumble that had been my head at one point.

Walking was uncomfortable… somehow. I didn't feel right as I plodded down the hillside through waist high brown grass, bushs and the occasional tree, as if my brain was afraid my legs would give out at any moment, but the muscles were sending back an 'all good' signal at the same time. The armor's gel layer had stiffened around my shoulder to support it; I couldn't move my upper arm, but at least the agony didn't get worse. The pain wasn't my main concern anymore, I've dealt with that plenty. What worried me is how little I remember: my name, my armor, the name of my DI, but so far everything else has felt hardwired. Evaluate my situation, plan best course of action, how to execute, threats and pitfalls to watch for, scan the terrain, stay mobile. I'm a soldier, a good one, I know that much. The rest is there, it's just a jumbled mess of grey and black.

And worrying about it won't help; it will come back or it won't. Stay active, stay alert, stay alive.

Great… now my own thoughts are berating me. I checked my mission clock, 0230. That wasn't right, judging by the star's position it was noon, or close to it. So wherever I was, it was either near the opposite side of whatever planet I'd been on, or I'd been taken to a different one somehow. Or my clock was broken too.

As I walked I noticed a strange haze on the horizon all around, like a muddy brown mist surrounding me on all sides. Well… I guess it suits the rest of this world's theme of turd brown everything.

The town didn't get any better as I approached; most buildings had missing walls, missing roofs or both, only a pile of rubble to mark their history. Those that did have them looked like they'd been through a war, and lost: holes adorned every possible surface. The edges were weathered so this wasn't a recent development. I dropped into a low crouch as I got within a few hundred meters of the edge of… 'civilization' for the lack of a better word, creeping through the overgrown, sickly looking plants. No more than a dozen paces later, I stopped. Something was off about the approach; there was plenty of visual cover with the bushes, but my instincts were screaming at me.

My gaze travelled across the surroundings until it landed on a small wooden pole protruding 20 cm from the pale dirt maybe 50 meters to my 11. It could have been a stake for supporting a sapling in another world, but it was not accompanied by said tree. On top of that, it wasn't rotted or wind eroded. If I had to guess it was placed there within the last few weeks. Range marker. The town was inhabited.

I couldn't stay there; I'd been sauntering toward the town like a dumbass, completely exposed, and a sniper was probably waiting for me to get in range before putting a round through my head. Without my shields, if they were shooting something large enough and got lucky enough to hit my soft armor undersuit, I might get a new hole in me. Well, the only cover in any direction was the town.

So I got up and sprinted for it.

Or maybe a dead run with my arm. Each stride sent a new spear lancing through my chest, but it was either that or a sniper round and I prefer the type of injury that isn't fatal.

20 seconds into my sprint I found the first evidence to support my theory: I vaulted a half dozen dead bodies, all facing down, all looked like they were moving toward the town. An instant later, I came across another body, then another. Even though I only had a heartbeat to see each, something struck me as odd. They weren't dressed in combat armor, or even the cobbled together protection militias might use. These bodies were dressed in a mixture of leather and what must have been heavy steel or iron plates with how much rust covered them. None of them looked like they could stop anything larger than a 9mm. They hadn't used any basic tactics either: they laid in tightly grouped clumps, a sniper's dream. An average human, running at normal speeds would have no chance moving across so much open ground without sound tactics and good coordination, and it was still an unnecessary risk. Even so, many of them had been hit several times, so whoever was on the other side of the gun wasn't a skilled marksman either.

I reached the edge of the town before I could make any further observations. Sliding to a stop, I crouched in the shadow of a collapsed 3 story house. The sniper either wasn't positioned to fire on me, or had remarkable trigger discipline. Judging by their handiwork, I'd have to go with the former.

No motion sensor meant I had to make do with an old fashion sweep and clear. Unfortunately with no ranged weapon, I would have to stick to close quarters sightlines.

My hand wrapped around the hilt of my knife; it felt good, familiar. I pulled it from the sheath and began toward the shadowed passage between this house and the one to its left. My body went on autopilot: step, look, listen, check for potential ambushes, vantage points where I might be able to get my bearing, backtracking at random intervals to make sure no one was trying to follow.

While my instincts took over, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. Even on the most backwater worlds, combatants had access to armor light years beyond what those bodies were wearing. The wasteland, the crumbling city. None of it made sense. I still couldn't remember much, but I did know this wasn't normal by my standards.

A sound drifted into my helmet from ahead of me. It sounded like… talking. People? Contact probably wasn't a good idea, but observation might be a good way to get some answers. I crept forward, double and triple checking every angle, shadow, possible hiding spot, or outlook.

As I got closer, voices resolved into arguing; there were three of them. Men. One of them screamed something, followed by a loud thwap and a yelp. This was a fourth, a woman. This is clearly a combat zone so… POW? Interrogation? Or was it just torture? Something else entirely?

Soon, I was close enough to pinpoint where they were, a faded blue two story shop about 50 meters ahead, and hear what they were saying.

"Fuck her, she doesn't want to talk. This is a waste of time."

"No Gristle a waste of time is looking through this goddamn city when that Minuteman fuck might still be waiting to put a laser in my ass. A waste of time is 10 dead guys back there. This is saving a lot of pain. For us anyway."

Torture. I continued forward at a low crouch, carefully picking my steps to avoid the looser rubble. This might be educational.

"How long you gonna take with this bitch then? This is supposed to be your thing, it's been an hour and a half and you can't break this tiny fucking excuse for a woman?"

"Gristle, get the fuck out of here. Let us work." That was the third man. "All you're doing is running your mouth because Jernigan is gonna have your ass when we get back after losing almost half our guys."

"I'm still in charge you little shit-"

"You three sound like my parents", the woman said in a quiet, raspy voice. "Can we get back to the torture, I really don't want to listen to this."

Another blow.

"Did I ask you anything bitch? I didn't think so. You don't have permission to talk until I do." The first man again 'Gristle'.

"Wow", she rasped back, "that really all you got?

"Gristle! Get out before I strap you to the chair next to her", the third man said.

"You don-" a soft thud interrupted whatever his retort had been.

As the sound of someone falling to the ground reached me, the second man began talking quietly. "I don't care if you're the number two, I will bury you out here if you don't get the fuck out."

Ooooh, scary.

A sputter followed by fumbling footsteps signaled 'Gristle's' compliance. I tucked in between the shop and whatever the collapsed mess next to it was supposed to be as the man stumbled into the open, clutching his stomach. "Motherfucker. I'm gonna kill that bastard; he doesn't get to tell me what to do."

Clearly, these guys weren't military or even militia. A gang maybe, but I don't remember if I've had any contact with those. I re-sheathed my knife. Whatever they were, they weren't trained or even experienced; leaving an isolated member in a contested area?

Prey.

While the guy stood in front of the building, fuming, I slipped from the small alley and glid across the intervening half dozen meters. The man didn't notice me until I'd wrapped my right arm under his chin and hoist him off the ground, carefully balancing cutting off his air supply without crushing the thug's neck. He was kicking at my legs and clawing at my arm for all he was worth, but he couldn't get a good hold of the smooth armor covering my forearm and without the ability to scream, he had no way of calling for help.

As the alley's shadow swallowed us once again, I released the man's neck and clamped my hand over his mouth as he dropped back to his feet and pinned him to the collapsing wall of the storefront. I crowded him so the only thing he could do was look straight up at me.

To his credit, he didn't look nervous or scared; he glared up at my faceplate and reached for a handgun of some kind at his right hip. Before his hand could travel more than a few centimeters, I planted my left knee in his side. The blow wasn't hard enough to break anything, but it did wind him.

I activated my external speakers. "I'm going to remove my hand, you're going to keep your voice down so we don't disturb the interrogation. Raise your right arm if you understand."

'Gristle' tried his best to shoot another glare at me as he sagged in my grip, but after a moment he raised his right arm. This guy wouldn't be able to get enough air in him to scream for at least a few seconds, but I still wasn't going to take chances. I slipped my hand off his mouth and returned it an instant later, knife at his throat.

He heaved, trying to force air back into his lungs. "The fuck are you? Brotherhood? Or Enclave?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, but the best way to get info was to let the target say it themselves. I just need to lead him along. "Making assumptions?"

He wheezed a mocking laugh. "With that armor you wouldn't be anyone else." So they have power armor, or something like it? Maybe even military outfits. I'd never heard of them though. On top of that, wouldn't it make sense for anyone to know the standard military? The… UNSC? It would make sense for him to assume I'm with them first.

Good contextual information, but not presently useful.

What leverage did I have? Or what could I offer? How could I get as much intel out of this guy as possible without drawing too much suspicion?

There's an ongoing conflict...

"I'll leave that to your imagination. But you have a fight on your hands; I'm very good at fighting."

The angry glare gained a bit of confusion. "You a mercenary? Bullshit, mercenaries don't come with gear like that. Unless you stole it from them."

So they have some form of advanced equipment then. Who else might have access besides the UNSC? The Brotherhood of Steel didn't ring any bells. If they were enemies of the UNSC that could be dangerous, but this guy clearly wasn't one of them. Maybe I can glean who they are if I play this right. "Maybe you're lucky."

"Wh-" my blade was back at his throat before he could get any more out.

"I'd keep my voice down."

He nodded and I let him continue.

"Right… lucky. Why would I bring you in? I've got enough people to handle this."

"That isn't what it sounded like."

He sneered at me. "You want to add your head to the count?"

"You're already down people, what's a gun for hire added to the list?"

"Whatever caps I pay you with."

Uh… caps?

Keep pressing.

"It looks like caps or the rest of your men. Now what's the situation?"

The man looked like he was arguing with himself, glancing between me and the alley behind. "Nah, fuck you man. I don't need your help."

Damn. "I saw a lot of bodies; you need help."

His glare turned poisonous; I hefted my knife. "We chased these Minutemen fuck faces from their little home all the way to Concord without some high and mighty, up his own ass merc. We- I took everything from them but their lives and now I'm gonna make sure I get those too. Fuck, I pull this shit off and I'll have enough supplies to start my own group and I ain't splitting shit with you." He tried to shove me aside, but only succeeded in pushing himself back into the wall.

So I'm in someplace called Concord, these guys are bandits and they're attacking a group called the Minutemen for supplies. Combining that with the state of the buildings around me, I'd guess a war happened, a large one that destabilized wherever I am.

'Gristle' sucked in a breath to shout something. By now I knew enough about him I could see, while whoever they were attacking may not have been the 'good guys', he wasn't worth my time.

My arm snapped forward and the knife plunged into his neck up to the hilt, severing his brain stem. The air 'Gristle' was about to push out in a shout gurgled through the blood spilling around my knife as I slid his body to the ground.

Next step was to talk with the woman they were interrogating and see if she would be any more cooperative. Even if she wasn't I don't think a woman being held captive by a group of bandits, who clearly wanted her dead, was a good place to be.

Knife back in the sheath, I pulled my first victim's handgun from his hip. Well… I think calling whatever this thing is a 'handgun' would be an insult to any of the sidearms I've used. It looked like it was made out of copper or brass pipe. No safety, an internal bolt made from a steel slug and the 'sight' was another copper tube with two wooden screws driven through the sides to meet, roughly, in the middle. The magazine was held in by a spring and pin; the rounds it fired, unlike the rest of the gun, looked relatively normal, if a bit small. Against poorly armored targets, no armor on their heads so far, it won't matter. I just hope this thing doesn't explode in my hand; probably a good idea to use it only in case of emergency.

Since it wouldn't adhere to my mag clamps, I shoved it into my molle belt and slid back to the street. The… conversation was much calmer and quieter than before. The second man was talking, probably to the woman, in a low, intense stream. "-doesn't matter whether or not I'm going to kill you after this is over. Between now and then, you're going to be in a lot of pain. And at the end of it, you're going to give them up anyway so why suffer for it."

"To spite you. Those were good people you fuckers killed."

A sigh. "You know I have a son back at our camp. If-"

The woman threw a rasping laugh back at her tormentor. "Then I hope Preston blows your head off here so he doesn't ever have to see the shitbag his dad is."

"Tough luck on that one." I leaned around the corner. They were in a storefront with the shelves toppled over and refuse scattered everywhere. The woman was tied to a wooden chair with the two men standing in front of her. "He, and the rest of your little gang, are going to die here."

At that moment, the knife left my hand and whipped into the interrogator's right temple. His body didn't have a chance to hit the ground before I was on the second, right elbow driving into his head just behind the jaw. It was a targeted strike, meant to break the spine at the base of his skull but it wasn't really necessary. A half ton flying toward someone concentrated in the titanium plate at the end of my forearm didn't leave much of a head.

I double checked my handiwork before turning to the woman who looked more confused than anything else. "Who the hell are you?" Her voice was dazed, as if I'd hit her as well. I guess I can't blame her when, an instant before, the two dead men were about to begin an interrogation in earnest.

My first thought was to free her, but I checked it; I still have no idea what the current situation is, where I am, or how I got here. The enemy of my enemy is not necessarily my friend.

"That depends on how you answer my next few questions." I triple checked the shop to make sure we were alone while extracting my knife and wiping it on the dead man's shirt. "Who were those guys?"

The woman's confusion in part turned into anger. "Wait, you killed them without knowing who they were?"

I knelt in front of her so we were more or less face to face. "I had a conversation with their friend outside. I know they're bandits of some sort, but I don't know much more."

The anger then morphed into suspicion. "You don't know what 'Raiders' are?"

Raiders? I cocked my head to the side. The implication was clear enough, but I think most people would be smart enough to not carry that title. "No, I don't. I'm new here. What about you? Who are you?"

"I'm the person that stared torture, rape, and death in the face and didn't blink."

I grunted. "I don't care about you personally, I need information. Those guys", I motioned at the corpses, "didn't have much to offer."

"Oh you're so full of shit; you want information, you capture them and do what they were going to do to me, soldier boy, you saved me from them don't try and lie to yourself."

True, in part at least. She'd called my bluff; from the sound of things, her and the people she was trying to hide needed help. I don't know if they're the right people to help, the people attacking them were the right ones to kill. But I still needed info and, other than my conscience, had no inclination to save them.

"That may be true, but you're mixing signals. I could save you and your people, but I'm not doing it for free."

She smirked, or at least tried to, through her grimace. "You want to give us a way out? I don't have any reason to trust you."

"Your other choice is I leave and you die."

The woman's gaze lingered on me as she thought. She was right, she didn't have a reason to trust me outside of my word, just like I didn't have a reason to honor it outside of my conscience. But her group was clearly in dire straits; maybe I was taking advantage of the situation, but I wasn't going to feel bad about that.

"Before I say anything else, who are you with?"

"Not the Enclave or Brotherhood."

That one caught her off guard. "No one else has armor like that."

"The other guy said that too." I left the 'yet here I am' unsaid.

"And you aren't from around here?"

"No."

She purses her lips. "So what do you want to know?"

"We're in Concord. Where is that?"

"Part of what's left of Boston."

Boston… that's a city on Earth right? A city on the Eastern seaboard of North America if I remember right. That's supposed to be a massive metropolitan area, not a wasteland. "As in, Boston on Earth?"

A strange look preceded her answer. "Where the hell else would it be?"

Wait… I'm on Earth, but people on Earth don't know about our other colonized planets? That wasn't possible… and Boston looking like it had been a war zone, then abandoned for a couple decades. Not knowing about the UNSC. The weapons and armor these people have. Raiders.

What the fuck is going on?

Is this a bad joke? A sim? Everything is saying I'm on some… alternate version of Earth, and the only way something like that could happen is a sim right? Then why does my arm hurt like this? No sim I've ever used had pain this accurate, or excruciating. And the men I killed… those were real people, not projections.

"Are you just gonna keep staring at me with that creepy ass helmet of yours?"

My attention returned to the world around me. "What happened here?"

The annoyed expression became incredulous. "What do you mean?"

"I mean why is everything destroyed?"

She stared at me for a moment, dumbfounded, before bursting out in a laugh. "What, did you grow up in a goddamn vault or something?" She stopped to laugh more and I clamped my hand over her mouth.

"Quiet or I leave you here." I may be reeling, but that didn't mean there weren't more Raiders around.

I lifted my hand slowly and her face had changed again. "The War happened. The nukes… 200 years ago." The expression was some mix of confusion and- and pity. She was pitying me? "You really… aren't from around here, huh? Are you an alien or something?"

"No… no I'm human." Kinda. The statement was low, absentminded.

200 years ago. Even if we'd destroyed ourselves, the survivors would have access to much, much better reserves. On top of that, the construction of these buildings was completely wrong. Everything… everything in front of me pointed to something impossible: I'm on Earth, but I'm not on UNCS's Earth- my Earth (though I don't think I've ever been to Earth). How? That word careened through my head like a fighter. How was I on a different Earth?

I won't find the answer, and sitting here staring at this woman won't help. Get up, move, find the right resources.

My attention once again shifted to the world outside of my cluttered mess that at one point was a brain. The woman was staring into my faceplate, eyes intense… and impatient. Wait- her first response to me not knowing about whatever happened here was to ask if I'm an alien?

"Did you ask if I'm an alien?"

"You did just ask if you were on Earth didn't you?"

"That's-" I shook my head. "What's your name?"

The woman looked me over again, something new on her face I couldn't quite pinpoint. "Alexandra."

"Tell me about the people you're with. How many are there, how many of them can fight, how many are injured?" She hesitated again. "You gave me what I wanted, for now."

"You talk a big game."

"I've done this before."

"Even with that busted arm?" She nodded to my left side.

"Yes. How many are in your group?"

The woman arched an eyebrow, but still answered after another moment's hesitation. "Eight not including me."

"How many can fight?"

"Five. Two others are injured. The guy in charge is named Preston, he's one of the last Minutemen. They're held up in the old Museum, top floor at the back. There are probably 10 or 15 Raiders left, we've taken out 10 of them. We're trying to get to this place called Sanctuary, about 5 miles northwest of here."

The intel came spilling out in a stream; I didn't even have to ask any more questions. I was right, she's desperate. She wants to believe I can save them.

I stood. "Okay." I pulled my knife, walked behind her and cut the wire restraints binding her wrists to the chair. "Can you stand?"

"Yeah." She got to her feet, unsteadily.

"Can you fight?"

Alexandra rubbed her wrists and glared at me. "Yes."

Chapter 2

A/N: Hello again from the land of bizarre crossovers and self-fulfilling prophecies. I don't intend to post chapters as frequently as this, but I wanted to get a little more up to read. Anyway, here's part two of our SPARTAN's strange adventures in Falloutland. Enjoy!

All assets belong to their respective companies.

Chapter 2: Getting Antiquated With the Locals

With at least an immediate mission objective ahead of me, my mind began processing information and forming a path forward. I went back to the corpses and searched them for weapons. One had another one of those cobbled together handguns, but the other had something that looked, roughly, like it was made for firing bullets. Stamped steel with wooden grips and actual iron sights. It was oddly bulky and round, but it seemed to be a real firearm. I found a spare magazine tucked in his belt, gave one makeshift gun to Alexandra and discarded the other.

"Where is the Museum?"

The woman was fumbling with the handgun I'd given her; hopefully she didn't have to use it. "Out the front, take a left, 5 streets down, take a right and three more streets."

I nodded. "Stay behind me, stay quiet, watch your step."

Alexandra returned my nod and I cleared our exit before I slipped out into the street. Another oddity was the lack of a guard for these men. They seemed to be this attack's leadership, so why wouldn't they be protected? Maybe they had sent their men out to search for the party they were after, but you would still want a rear guard. These guys were amateurs, a band of raiders. Clearly no military training or significant intelligence or experience.

No reason to get relaxed. I might be able to cover up my mistakes against them, but Alexandra and her people wouldn't.

So I continued systematically clearing potential sniper posts, ambush areas, stuck to good (relatively speaking) cover, took blind corners carefully, and stayed as silent as possible. On the other hand, my charge's footsteps were loud, clumsy, and obvious. Painfully so. Unfortunately sound is one of those things that, regardless of someone's incompetence, can give you away immediately. I came to a stop in another small alley and waved her up to me.

My eyes never stopped scanning the alley and accompanying buildings. "Are you injured?"

"Why?" The snappish answer gave me all the info I needed.

"Because it's going to give us away. We need to find you a place to lay low."

"Yeah, the museum."

"If the Raiders are on the right track, we'll get jumped before we make it."

"Then kill them before they kill me. I'm not staying out of this fight."

I rounded on her. "Don't try to be a hero. You want my help, you do what I say." 'Argument' was written all over Alexandra's face, but she canned it. "Good. That two story looks intact enough." She followed my gesture to the yellowish building across the street. "Stay hidden and do not fire unless absolutely necessary."

"Let's just lure the fuckers to us?"

I'd considered it, and while they may be stupid enough to fall for it, there was always the chance one of these asshats might not. If the lure was good enough, maybe that wouldn't matter, but we're also operating against the clock; I don't know how long they've been searching or how close they might be. If they are close we were back to giving our presence away and wasting the element of surprise.

"Too many unknowns."

"No, it's safer if we get them away from the museum. If you're so good, you kill them alone."

While the mocking tone didn't do her any favors, I wasn't willing to entertain an argument about tactics with a civilian. "I'll make this clear once more: we're doing this my way. You play hero, I'm gone."

I didn't wait for her response before moving to the prescribed building. After searching for possible stragglers, I settled on the main room of the second floor. It's only point of egress was the stairs, had enough shadow to hide Alexandra from prying eyes, and the window had a commanding view of the street.

"Stay in here until I come back. If you get in trouble, fire three times as fast as you can."

Alexandra's expression was mildly indignant with a touch of doubt. "What if they find my people first?"

"They won't." I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm and tried to turn me back. It wasn't enough for her to hear me say; I can understand that. She was proud, and stubborn, and she cared for her group.

And she was completely at my mercy. She doesn't- can't trust me, and her friends' maybe even family's lives were at stake.

I faced her again. "If they're even remotely intelligent, they'll know your people will be in a large building or risk getting trapped. As long as the Raiders are thinking the same I'll be able to narrow my search."

"And what if they hit the museum while you're too far away?"

"I'm going to work my way out from that location." It wasn't much detail, but that was all the explanation I was willing to give. "I need to go. Keep your head down."

Alexandra's stern, almost angry facade fell away in that moment; she looked vulnerable and desperate. On the verge of tears. "Please-" her voice was almost a sob, "please save them. My son is with them." I nodded and her hand fell back to her side.

Out in the street again, I skirted the last few blocks before making a right on what looked like the small, broken town's main avenue. It was lined with small shops, or what was left of them, a few balconied buildings with banisters collapsed and roofs falling in on themselves. The torn, pockmarked road ended at the museum: a massive structure, for the city, constructed from deep brown wood that, while all of the paint had been stripped away long ago, looked relatively intact. Apart from what appeared to be some kind of aircraft crashed into the roof that is.

With how dilapidated each building was, I couldn't risk using the roofs; it was probably pure luck the building I'd left Alexandra in hadn't collapsed under my feet. That meant doing things from ground level or maybe the second story of the structures which complicated things: I wouldn't be able to get sightlines on anything shorter than the buildings around me.

My gaze went back to the museum's roof. It was at least 5 meters clear of the surrounding structures. Is that strong enough? It would be my best chance and if it could hold up to whatever kind of aircraft had crashed into it, I shouldn't have any difficulty.

I slipped down the right side of the street, careful to remain in the buildings' shadows. Nothing moved as I skirted my way to the building closest to the museum. After one more check no one was around, I looked up to study my latest issue: if I had the use of both hands, I could climb to the top in a matter of seconds. With one, I'd have to climb only using my feet with my hand to hold myself to the wall. I could do it, but the time it would take was unacceptable. That left going inside, or jumping from an adjacent building. If I went inside I'd risk contact with Alexandra's group, something I've considered, but it would complicate the situation. Not out of the question. Jumping presents its own difficulties, namely the launch point and landing point. The nearest building is across the street, a good 10 meter gap. That, again, wouldn't be difficult but the odds of the structures living through it were low.

Or I scout the entrances to the Museum and wait…

I hated myself for thinking that, I despise being on the defensive. It means you're reacting to the opposition, and they get the initiative. I'd be a hypocrite if I let that make the decision for me; it's exactly what I told Alexandra.

Defense it is then. I searched through several structures, looking for anything long and thin made from steel that wasn't rusted through. I found a few lengths of rebar in one of the buildings across the street from the museum. With the steel rods in hand, I carefully circled the building, watching for Raiders as I went. At each of the three auxiliary entrances, I slipped a length of rebar through the door handles and twisted the ends together. It wasn't a perfect solution, but at the very least if they were going to get through anything but the front door it would be loud. As chance had it, there weren't any windows on the bottom floor. The ones that were on the second and third floors were small and would be difficult for any average person to get to.

That finished, I returned to the main entrance, found a good vantage point on the second floor of a crumbling three story about two thirds of the way up the street.

Waiting… Even now, with very little coherent memory, I know I've always hated waiting like this. Years of practice and discipline buried the impatience, but it had never left.

At least that's something else I remember.

As I waited, sun traversing the hazy, brown sky, I couldn't keep my mind from wandering back to the situation I'd been plunged into. How did I end up here? The evidence in front of me said I was in a… different timeline? Parallel universes? Something like that. How would something like that happen? What was I doing before I woke up? I tried delving back into the ruddy mess that was still my head; while it was slowly clearing up and I was able to remember more, most specifics still escaped me. And the question begs to be asked: does worrying about it now do me any good? I won't be able to figure it out and even if I could, I don't have the resources to do anything with that information.

It was a valid thought, but that didn't matter. My mind was racing, trying to come to a more logical conclusion with the given evidence; maybe this was a distant planet that had tried to emulate Earth, if they had been a colony that split off long ago. Maybe they never had contact with the UNCS again before blowing themselves to hell.

Technology.

If they nuked themselves, maybe this is all they would have left: cobbled together armor and weapons, broken down cities and no recourse.

AI, data storage, weapons/technology stockpiles, even base knowledge of any group that could start a colony like that would give it a 500 year head start in technology over what these people have.

Every time I thought of a different solution, it came back to that: technology. The environment, while a hangup, I could justify. The lack of knowledge of the UNSC was more difficult, but there were scenarios it could make sense. But unless this civilization had blown themselves up and then somehow regressed dramatically, forgetting about space travel altogether in the process, it just didn't seem possible.

I shook my head violently to clear it and refocused on the task at hand. Maybe the 'Brotherhood' or 'Enclave' would give me a solution to all of this. Maybe not, but if I was going to get to that point I'd need more intel and my best shot at doing that right now is protecting these people.

My mission clock read 0615, I'd waited two and a half hours. The sun had been descending for the past two hours or so. It was certainly possible the Raiders were waiting until nightfall to make their move; I seriously doubt 'Preston' has thermal or NV optics, if they were afraid of a sniper that would be the best time to do it.

No… they're sweeping the town and if the clumps of bodies on the approach were anything to go by, they didn't pay much attention to tactics. I shook my head, making assumptions like this was the best way to get people killed, but what choice did I have? If these guys got inside, the following chaos would make it impossible to keep all of Alexandra's people alive.

Then a noise caught my attention. Shuffling, multiple sets of feet. They were trying to be quiet, but failing miserably. They were coming from an adjoining street two intersections away. There were at least 5 different people I could make out, possibly more.

I peered toward the approaching Raiders and a few seconds later the first rounded the corner. I scoffed; he was dressed in the same leather and rusty steel as the others I'd seen, walking in a half crouch but making no effort to use visual cover. Hell, the rifle he cradled wasn't even at the ready. No attempt at scanning his surroundings, eyes fixed on the museum.

Just have to wait.

6 more followed in short order, 4 men, 2 women, all showing the same lack of awareness as their comrade. They ambled down the street toward the museum. The one thing I could give them credit for is their spacing: unlike the others, they had at least 5 meters between each other. My question was where the others were; Alexandra had said there were at least 10 still out there, possibly up to 15. This may have only been half the contingent, so I need to take them out quietly.

As they approached the museum, I descended to street level and shadowed the group. The 7 of them seemed to be wary of the structure. It's certainly possible the Raiders had cleared the rest of the town and zeroed in on the group's hideout. In any case they would probably try to breach the front and clear it.

How to deal with them then? Flashy or subtle? A few plans filtered their way into mind and I couldn't help but grin as I settled on one. There was no way I'd be able to cross the street and drop all of them before any fired with how far spread they were. If they were smart they'd maintain that spacing once they reached the museum entrance, so I needed to create some time and uncertainty. There was always the chance they would still panic fire, but it was not more certain than if they saw me.

Plan in mind, I moved ahead of them to the second floor of the closest building to the entrance, a dull blue, half collapsed two story across the street, maybe 15 meters from the front doors and waited.

5 of them clumped up in front of the doors in a semicircle, all pointing their weapons toward the entrance. One flanked either side of the double doors.

Please make this easier.

Time to make them regret their lack of tactical awareness. Briefly.

I retreated to the far wall, turned back to what was left of the wall facing the street, and sprinted for the opening.

The structure shook under my charge. As I reached the edge, I drove myself forward, floor splintering like matchwood, but I was airborne and heading straight for the group assembled in front of the entrance.

A few of the faces just began turning when half a ton of SPARTAN and MJOLNIR plowed into the closest of the group. Bone turned to powder as my armor clad boots met the man's chest and drove him to the ground. What was left became a bloody smear as I rolled over him. The others collapsed as I tumbled into their legs, bones snapping. As I completed the roll, my knife leaped to my hand and an instant later was embedded in the man to the left of the door. The other died as he turned to see what had happened, my forearm crushing his head against the museum's wooden siding hard enough to splinter the wood.

Just as he fell to the ground, someone shouted, "OH SHIT." It wasn't from any of the still living Raiders on the ground.

I turned back for the street in time to see another group of 5 sprinting down the street toward me. There was one more kneeling behind all of them a few dozen meters away. He was shouldering some kind of RPG launcher.

...oh.

As the rocket exploded from the tube, my legs were driving once again. I launched upwards, right hand flying for a window above me on the third floor. I clasped onto it and planted my boots into the side of the building as the explosion concussed the air like a massive punch and blew a gaping hole in the wall where the Raider's body had been.

Head twisting around, I saw several flashes of small arms fire and rounds began peppering the wood around me. And the launcher? The bandit was just shouldering it again.

Damn, that thing must be a fast reload.

I gathered my feet once again and just after he hit the firing stud, I leapt from the side of the building. Everything slowed to a crawl as I twisted, mid air. The rocket passed centimeters under my torso, close enough I could feel the heat of the exhaust through my armor. A second explosion shook the museum and the blast of hot air threatened to send me tumbling forward but I managed to keep my chest down and shoulders aimed at the ground.

My right hand snagged the handgun from my hip as I fell toward the street. If those small arms were the same caliber as it or the cobbled together weapons the others had I didn't have anything to worry about, but I wasn't going to risk further damage to my armor when I have no way of performing manual repair.

A split second later I contorted once again, rolling into the landing and the moment I came out of it the handgun was up, sights centered on the rearmost Raider. My finger tightened around the sidearm's trigger and it barked a round straight through the bridge of the man's nose. As the action cycled closed, I had the next one in my sights and sent another bullet on its way. And another. They all ran at me, slow moving, poorly armored targets. Before any of them could register it; all 5 were dead.

The last one tumbled to the ground and, besides the moaning from the members of the first group still alive, the town was still. I slid the magazine from the handgun; 5 rounds left and another in the chamber. The three survivors of my stunt were laying in a pile where I'd landed, covered in the blood of their crushed comrade.

I couldn't assume I'd eliminated the entire contingent. My feet carried me back to the mound of body parts and I executed the remaining Raiders. The patter of running reached me once the pistol's report faded, coming from the street I'd turned from. Did Alexandra-

A shuffle from one of the museums above me caught my attention. I looked up just in time to see the barrel of...something aimed straight for my head. My hand tensed around the handgun, but I kept it down; this had to be someone from Alexandra's group. Instead, I dove for the side of the building where the gunman wouldn't be able to get a clear shot on me.

The rifle discharged, but it wasn't the explosion of any powder based weapon I'd ever heard. The pavement behind me exploded in a shower of pulverized asphalt, but I was out of the line of fire.

Enemy of my enemy doesn't mean my friend.

I crouched at the base of the wall and aimed my procured weapon at the window. "Hold fire, Alexandra sent me to help."

"I'll wait until I hear that from her, until then you stay the hell away from us or I put you down." That must be the guy she called 'Preston'. His tone said he knew that wouldn't happen but it did me no good to force the issue.

"She'll be here in a moment."

'Preston' fell silent; I could feel him searching the pockmarked mess of a street in front of the museum for a sign of the approaching woman. 20 seconds ticked off my mission clock when Alexandra rounded the corner and began running toward us favoring her left leg.

"Now hold fire."

"O-okay. Okay."

I stood, but kept the pistol trained on the window. My gaze fell back to the approaching Alexandra. As she neared, she beheld the corpse strewn street and slowed to a shocked stop. Her eyes ran over my armor; I'm sure it was almost dripping blood. Probably hadn't been the first time.

"What happened here?"

The call was clearly directed at me, but 'Preston' answered. "Is this thing… guy with you?"

"You did this?" I only nodded. Who else would? The woman's eyes never left me, a hint of distrust, and an all too familiar fear there. I know I've seen that look before. "I asked him to come help. Did he do all this?"

"Tore through them like a pack of Yao Gui." Both voices were shaky. Had everyone reacted like this? Still tumultuous memories suggested so. "You sure he's on our side?"

I shifted my gaze to Alexandra. With the small caliber handgun tucked in her waistband, she didn't seem apt to do anything stupid, but you never know. The woman was even more hesitant than she had been back at the storefront. She'd seen me kill her interrogators and barely bat an eye, is this really that different? I gave her a nod.

"No, but do we have a choice?"

Despite myself, I heaved a sigh. Not what I was going for.

'Preston' cleared his throat. "Mystery man, what do you want from us?"

"Information."

"Like?"

"History." A lot of it.

That caught the man off guard, so Alexandra stepped in to fill the silence. "He says he isn't from around here. Didn't know we were in Boston or what Raiders are. Hell, he asked if we were on Earth."

"What? Is he an alien or something?"

I cocked my head at Alexandra; have these people run into aliens? Were the Covenant here? Is that why both were asking the same question? The genocidal conglomerate didn't have anything that resembled humanity, but it was fairly clear things aren't going to operate by normal standards here. "I'm not an alien. I won't attack unless you give me a reason. It's fine if you don't trust me, but I'm asking some questions before I leave."

"Like?"

"First, we're going to come inside. There may still be stragglers out here." I motioned my head toward the door. Alexandra didn't respond for a moment; before I could decide if it was because she didn't want to or didn't understand, she limped over to the entrance and worked one of the large wooden doors open.

Preston finally responded as it swung wide. "Okay, but hands where I can see them at all times." A twinge of irritation flashed through my head. Right.

The patter of feet followed as several people scrambled around the top floor. "Julian?" Alexandra was inside. I followed through the front door; somehow the interior was in much worse condition than the exterior. The floor was caved in bad enough to see the basement. Splintered, rotting, and broken wood was scattered everywhere. A security door still stood in the center of the entryway, but the walls were so decrepit, I could probably get through them without causing much more damage. The room beyond was just as run down, with a set of collapsing stairs leading to the next floor. Off to either side of the entryway were rooms with, presumably, what was left of whatever exhibits had been there. A half dozen people were already hurrying down the stairs on the opposite side of the jail style security door.

"Mom", one of them shouted. He was tall, tan, and skinny, maybe 15 years old with dirty blonde hair and clothes that looked more like rags. He also took a striking resemblance to Alexandra. "Are you okay?" Julian sprinted around the gaping hole in the floor, pulled a lever beside the door, and yanked it open.

"Of course I am." The woman's calm, stern demeanor was back.

The two of them embraced while the others, still at the bottom of the staircase, eyed me, faces a mixture of suspicion and fear. "You Brotherhood?" The man who asked was shorter, oddly styled black hair and had a pair of welder goggles hanging over his white shirt and denim overalls.

Right. The people with advanced enough technology in this wasteland to have power armor. "No, I don't know who they are."

He looked genuinely taken aback. "Who- the Brotherhood? The Brotherhood of Steel? Don't bullshit me man, everyone knows them."

"I don't."

The man's expression soured. "That's a bit suspicious don't you think?"

Another set of footsteps began down the stairs. "Hold on Sturges." It was Preston. The rifle he carried was strange: wood stock with what looked like focusing lenses set in front of a long, thin box. Is that some sort of laser weapon? He was dark skinned wearing a white long coat and wide brimmed hat. This guy looked like he was straight out of an early millennium docu-vid.

His rifle was held at the low ready in my general direction. My procured sidearm hadn't left my hand.

"You gonna put that away?"

I shook my head. "I don't know you."

"I thought I said I wanted to see your hands at all times."

"You can see them." I didn't need the weapon if the situation came down to it, but the pistol helped get my point across. "Drop the act."

Preston watched me, eyes oddly keen. "You saved us because you want information. That information is worth a dozen lives?"

"Would you rather I let them kill you?"

"No. But I want to know who massacres a group they apparently know nothing about to get information we may not even have."

His question made sense but he was asking the same thing in different ways. Did he expect a different answer? He clearly didn't like what he was hearing, but that was his problem not mine. "What are you asking?"

A frown spread across his face. "I want to know why you killed those Raiders."

"I've already told you." I paused for a moment as realization struck. "You want to know if you're next."

Preston motioned to the front door. "You killed those men because some stranger asked you to; doesn't seem like the most reliable type of person."

Hold on. He thinks I killed the raiders because Alexandra asked me to? "I don't intend to stick around longer than it takes to get my questions answered."

"Stop being so difficult Preston; we were dead anyways and ain't very often someone falls from the sky and changes that." That was one of the other civilians, an elderly woman with a soft, drawling voice, wearing an old ragged blue jacket, scarf, and head wrap. Her tone was tired, stale even.

The expression that crossed Preston's face told a similar story. "Mama Murphy, this is about our saf-"

"No it isn't. You aren't fooling anyone, least of all him. We all saw what he did out there, what he did for us. Those Raider were going to finish what Quincy started and this man comes as a gift and sweeps them aside like nuclear fire did the Old World. He's here to help, can't you see that?"

Claims that bordered on divine intervention were a bit far for me, but if it got me closer to getting what I needed I don't mind.

"Mama Murphy-"

The old woman wasn't going to let up. "Have I been wrong about these things before?"

Alexandra approached as she finished, her right arm draped over her son's shoulders. Her face had a hint of that same desperation that she had when I'd left her at that house; it was more guarded this time, but I felt it all the same. "Are you here to help us? I know you want to know what's going on and we can help, but we won't make it without someone who can fight these assholes back." She wasn't begging. I have to give her credit, she's remarkably calm for a civilian.

Unfortunately, mission objectives and sentimentality rarely went together.

"I can't offer anything until I know more about the situation."

If that's the case, why did I choose to help these people?

"What do you need?"

Why did I feel the need to explain myself to Alexandra before I left?

"Everything you can tell me."

I made- am making an emotional decision now. Does that make it wrong?

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

If it interferes with mission it does.

What is mission objective?

Get back to the UNSC.

How would helping these people interfere?

Time.

They know a lot more about the current situation. If I can help them out along the way, shouldn't I?

Will that help accomplish my objective?

Will not doing it get me back to the UNSC any faster?

"Hello?" Alexandra interrupted my internal argument, again wearing her annoyed expression from the storefront.

… Maybe helping them will turn out to be a dead end, but I'll take my chances.

"We need to get somewhere more secure. You said something about a town you were heading to? Sanctuary somewhere to the northwest."

Her eyes widened a fraction before she spoke. "Yeah."

"How defensible is it?"

"I haven't been there, but I know it's a small town between a river and a mountainside. As far as anyone here knows it's been abandoned since the war."

Preston scoffed. "You just gonna tell anyone who comes by where we're going?"

Alexandra removed her arm from her son and rounded on him, "if you didn't notice, he just said he'd help us get there." The man stared at me from under the brim of his ridiculous looking hat. I couldn't tell if his disposition was genuine distrust, or pride. "It's a five mile walk, but I don't know if we can make it today."

My mission clock read 0630. Judging from the sun's position while I was outside, it was around 1600 with another 4 hours or so until the sun set. 9 klicks was a pretty short haul, but Alexandra has some form of injury to her right leg, you have the other two who were hurt, and the old woman. "If we stay here we risk being attacked again. It won't be as easy next time. This town is too large to scout effectively; they may get in."

"We can fight too, you know." Preston's voice was bordering on indignant. He gestured to the other people around the lobby. "We made it here across two weeks of hell, it isn't like you're the only one who knows how to use a gun."

Yeah, I've seen your handiwork. Even still… I cast my mind back to the groups of dead Raiders I'd seen on my way in; the job was sloppy, but he managed to take 10 of them on approach. The man had determined where his assailants were approaching from in a fairly large town, established a killzone, set up range markers and kept shooting while most likely while under fire. He was undisciplined, relatively inexperienced, and a little theatrical, but had kept a cool head while managing to get his people almost all the way to their objective.

I nodded to him. "That may be true, but it's better to avoid a fight."

The man glared at me a moment, clearly mulling over his options. Realistically, he only had one and he knew it; this was just stubborn pride.

It was the first man, Sturges, who spoke up. "If you really are going to help, then would you mind some input from the people you're helping?" I nodded. "We should stay here tonight. I know there's a risk of getting jumped by more raiders but we're all dead tired. We been on the run for the better part of 2 weeks and just got through another fight for our lives, thanks to you of course. We need a break." There was a murmur of agreement between the others assembled.

My number one priority in defense situations is to avoid conflict altogether. Battle is chaotic and random; I call bullshit on anyone who says they've planned for everything because that simply wasn't possible. What if a lucky shot tags someone through one of the already collapsing walls? Explosives could be used to bring the structure down and countless other threats. If the goal is to keep everyone here alive, which I assume it is, there were way too many unknowns staying here. On the other hand, you run just as many risks without a static position with inexperienced people: snipers, the elements, a careless step.

What the hell am I thinking with this? Working with a group of civilians I don't know to defend a collapsing building in the middle of a destroyed town in a world consumed by some sort of nuclear war. Have I been in a situation this bad before?

Oh well. I'm here now. I'll make this work.

Staying here had plenty of drawbacks, but looking around the room at these people's haggard faces, it was probably more dangerous to risk huffing it with so few hours left in the day.

"If we're going to stay here tonight we need to make preparations." I looked at Preston. "Do you have any explosives?"

"Doesn't sound much like helping. You in charge of things now?"

"It gives you the best chance to survive."

He grimaced. "Which I assume means you're placing-"

"Dammit Preston." Alexandra sounded exasperated. I sent her a silent 'thank you'; my patience only stretches so far. "No, we don't have any."

It's possible the Raiders may have some, I can go out and scavenge while the group in here seals the other entrances.

"What about weapons?"

Preston sighed. "My Laser Musket, a Pipe Rifle and a few Pipe Pistols is all."

Laser Musket? Pipe Rifle? What are these people working with?

"Does each person who can fight have one?"

"Yes."

"What about wounded?"

"We have them on the top floor at the rear of the museum. Hardest place to get to."

I gave another nod. "There are three ground floor entrances besides the main one here, they're secured from the outside but they'll need reinforcement." I turned to Preston. "Can you provide overwatch from the roof?" I would probably still notice anything before he did, but I needed him placated and cooperative for the time being.

"Yeah… I got it."

I nodded again. "Everyone back here in 10." The group dispersed to begin searching for objects we can use to reinforce this impromptu fortress. While they did I walked to Preston. The smaller man looked up at me; he was still put off, but as long as he followed orders, we wouldn't have a problem. "What is your effective range with that?" I motioned to the rifle in his hands.

"My longest shot is 400 yards." He didn't do a very good job of making that not sound like a boast.

Explaining that 'longest shot' and 'effective range' were two different things wouldn't get me anywhere; besides the farthest he'd need to shoot was half that. "Cover everything past the third cross street." I didn't have confidence in him recognizing potential ambushes, snipers, or really any well hidden enemy, but at least if something did happen, diversionary fire would give me time to get to cover.

"Got it." He departed for the roof and I exchanged the almost empty mag before slipping back out into the body-strewn avenue. Once I'd cleared the immediate area, I checked the bodies I'd left next to the door. They were both wearing cobbled together satchels filled with some form of dispensers, syringes, and limited ammo that seemed to be the same caliber as the homemade looking handguns. Pipe pistols? I stowed the weapons in the bags, looped both satchels over my neck and moved out into the street.

Each raider I'd killed there told a similar story: dispeners (many empty) basic firearms and ammo. A few had the same handgun I'd scavenged on the interrogator, one had a bolt action rifle with old school wood furniture, but at least it looked like it was purpose built for the job, not some thrown together mess. Only 15 rounds though. The last assailant I scavenged was the man at the back wielding the RPG launcher. No… this thing is a genuine recoilless gun and the Raider's bag had 5 cartridges among the other contents.

I'm not wasting these on wiring the doors.

With the supplies secure, I double timed back to the museum. Still had 5 minutes to spare when I made it to the lobby, so I began emptying the satchels' contents onto the ground. 3 actual handguns, the bolt action rifle, recoilless gun, along with 12 Pipe Pistols, and one Pipe Rifle. Then there was the assorted munitions and dispenser. Drugs? That would make sense for the syringes.

Footsteps preceded my overwatch's presence at the top of the stairs. "Holy shit." Preston stared as he descended to the ground floor. "That's one serious haul. Those chems though- we need to keep them away from Mama Murphy."

I looked from him back to the neatly laid out rows of equipment. So the dispensers are drugs then. Anything that could help my arm heal? No, probably best not to use any foreign substances until I know exactly what I'm dealing with. "Will any of these help your injured?"

The Minuteman stalked over and knelt next to the supplies, though he was careful to keep his distance from me. "The Med-X and Stimpaks." He retrieved two different syringes. "They will help heal damaged tissue, grow new tissue if necessary, and numb the pain. These aren't cure alls though; they still require proper medical treatment to be successful."

Really… those might be helpful after all. He hadn't touched several other types of dispensers, but I could hear the others returning; it would have to wait.

Julian, Alexandra's son, and Sturges were the first to return, struggling under the weight of a large display case. They were closely followed by the two other men who had been in the lobby carrying another. It might be enough to reinforce one door, but how the hell had it taken them ten minutes to get those?

"Were you able to find anything else?"

Sturges nodded. "Yeah, and Jun is at the rear entrance using some furniture to barricade it with Mama Murphy. Any explosives?"

I motioned to the launcher. "Yes, but none I'm going to rig the doors with."

Sturges stared at the weapon, face a mixture of unease and amusement. "They really want us dead."

My good shoulder shrugged, almost on their own. "You get used to it." I grabbed three more magazines for my sidearm and clamped the recoilless gun to the mag strip on my back, cartridges in a pouch. "Who is the best shot?"

Julian raised his hand. "Besides Mr. Garvey, I am." Probably referring to Preston.

I cocked my helmet at the teenager. A little young, but I guess I didn't have much room to talk. Things were beginning to come back; I'm pretty sure I killed my first Sangheili when I was 12.

He got the bolt action rifle. "Don't fire unless I say." The rest got the reminder of the armaments if they were an improvement. I left that for them to decide; all of it looked equally worthless besides the real pistols. Preston gathered the chems into one satchel and shouldered it.

Reinforcing the doors with the objects they had found took another 10 minutes and another half hour to fashion stretchers to carry the wounded on. Once they were prepared to move in the morning, all that was left to do was wait. I considered offering to help their injured, but it was clear from the occasional glance and careful distance these people gave, they didn't trust me.

Fair enough.

After they were finished I decided it was time to get some answers. I approached Preston, who was talking with one of the wounded, a middle aged man with a gunshot wound to the gut. He had pale skin, sweat profusely, and trembled like a leaf in the wind. I didn't need to smell it to know the round had torn through his intestines. The wound had become septic almost immediately.

"I'd like to talk."

He looked from the dying man to me. "About?"

"Our situation." My situation, but all the same.

He gave a tired nod and pat the man's shoulder. "I'll be back in a little while." The Minuteman stood and followed me back to the lobby where Alexandra, Julian, and Sturges were organizing the extra supplies into satchels.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs while he sat on the landing. "So what do you want to know about?"

Do you know who the UNCS are? The Covenant? Do you know about the war? Is there anywhere with good comms? How can I get in touch with the Brotherhood of Steel? The Enclave? Anyone who might have the resources to help me? I knew the answers to all of those questions were either 'no' or 'I don't know'. Let's start simple then?

"What year is it?"

"2287."

That was almost 300 years in the past. Or- what would be the past.

"And this War happened 200 years ago?"

"A little more." He frowned. "2076. You know, all of these are things most people know. You clearly aren't the average wastelander, and with armor like that I can't help but wonder what other technology you might have. How do you not know this stuff already?"

Under normal circumstances, I would have access to a lot more. At the moment though, this is all I have. "I'm not from around here."

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

I shook my head slowly. "I can't."

Preston huffed. "So you're expecting me to answer your questions with none in return."
"You're alive."

His eyes focused on my faceplate, more than a little distrust his face, but after a moment he relented with a sigh. "What else did you want to know?"

"Who would know where I can find the Brotherhood of Steel?"

He glared at me, suspicious. "You said you don't know who they are earlier right? I'm not buying that, not with your armor."

"They have access to advanced technology?"

"I mean… yeah, but they don't share it with anyone. They're a militant group of brutes with power armor and laser weapons who take anything they think doesn't belong in the hands of us 'civilians'."

Considering what I just saw, keeping heavy weaponry under lock and key seems like a good idea. Civilians with weapons is usually a bad thing.

"Militant? Are they what's left of it?"

Another moment of silence spread itself over our conversation. Sturges and Alexandra had stopped packing supplies to watch.

"What part of the military are you with? I don't like that you want to track the Brotherhood down, or how you seem like you're okay with what they do."

"I'm not. And I'm not going to get involved with whatever fight you have with them."

"Why do you want to know where they are then?"

"They might be able to help me."

"With?"

Irritation began bubbling at the back of my head. What did I expect? Him to answer me without question? … I didn't work with non-military personnel enough for this. "To get back to my people."

"Let me guess: you can't tell me who that is."

You're getting good at this. "Correct. Are they what's left of the military?"

Preston's irritation broke the surface. "I don't know. Probably. You know this is bullshit right? You show up out of nowhere, decide you're going to put yourself in charge of a group when you don't know anything about what's going on, and then start asking questions like we owe you answers."

I watched him as his voice got louder with each passing word. The emotion wasn't out of line, but the response was. This argument wasn't going to go anywhere though. "I agreed to help Alexandra if I got answers; my part of that deal is finished."

"And you're still acting like you're in charge here."

"I can leave you to transport your wounded across hostile ground and set up a defensible position. I'm sure I can find other sources of information."

He stood and stalked down the stairs. "You're going to keep holding that over our heads too, huh? What, next you're going to threaten to kill us if you don't get our cooperation?"

I don't kill civilians. "No, like I said: next I leave." Wouldn't that be the same as killing them?

"Can we stop this back and forth?" Alexandra's voice had an edge I hadn't heard before. "I'm not gonna bullshit you soldier boy; your massacre out there freaked us out. It doesn't help we don't know anything about you. Preston is being a hard headed jackass, but it isn't without reason."

My gaze drifted down to her. They've asked multiple times. Am I just being stubborn? Does refraining from giving them basic information benefit me here? Working with an unknown party was difficult enough, but giving them intel could work against me on top of everything.

What are they going to do with any of it? I doubt they're stupid enough to start anything even if they know I'm up shit creek. What harm would there be in telling them something simple? If I'm going to help them… it doesn't make sense to at least make them comfortable- or at least as comfortable as someone can be around a SPARTAN I guess.

"I'm UNSC Navy Lieutenant Damon SPARTAN-G052."

Alexandra didn't respond immediately, but stared up into my faceplate as she processed my rank and name. "So you're military then. No military I've ever heard of. And what kind of last name is 'SPARTAN-G052'?"

I shook my head. "It's a designation."

"For?"

"I can't say anything else."

A frown spread across her face. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

While I may not remember everything yet, I do remember the SPARTAN program, at least in part. I also remember what I did for it was classified.

"It isn't my choice." Even if it was- a lot of that is personal.

She pursed her lips. "So what can you tell us?"

"When I say I'm not from around here, I don't mean I'm from a different area; I don't think I'm from this reality." Oh… that sounded a lot less crazy in my head. The others looked confused; they didn't know what I meant.

Except for Sturges. "You aren't from this reality- we talking the Multiverse Theory?"

Multiverse Theory? I looked over the smaller man. He seemed like a technician of some sort, but they probably didn't have trained engineers, technicians or much other skilled labor. Maybe if one was going to pursue the field they would have to do all of it themselves. "I don't know. The year for me is… 2557 and humanity didn't blow itself to hell in my past."

"Almost three hundred years ahead huh?" Sturges' brow furrowed. "Time travel ain't the answer here so it's gotta be Multiverse. You remember anything?"

"Waking up."

"That ain't very helpful."

I shrugged, there was nothing else to say; I was still trying to sort out my own head.

Everyone else looked bewildered. Sturges noticed too. "Can y'all give us some time to sort this out?"

Preston glanced from the other man to me. "You gonna be alright alone with him?"

Without looking back at him, Sturges replied, "as alright as I would be with you." He waved the other man off. "We've got a lot to talk about."

They needed to be on watch anyway, not down here having a conference. "Julian take someone else with you to the third floor, each of you take approaches on opposite sides of the building. Preston, you're on the roof with primary overwatch." The teenager looked from me to Preston who was staring me down. I squared up to the dark skinned man. Intimidation wasn't going to be effective here; standing a head taller than most men put people off, then there's what they'd seen me do to the Raiders. Sure, they were scared of me, but they were firmly on the 'fight' side of the 'fight or flight' spectrum.

"We need advanced warning; the roof is the best vantage point."

"I know that", he snapped.

"Then what's the problem?"

"You giving orders. Your story doesn't make sense; I have no reason to trust you."

My irritation peaked again. No, my story doesn't make sense but I just saved your ass, brought you the equipment those men had, agreed to get you and your people to safety and now I'm cooperating with your request for information in return.

"I'm not here to negotiate tactics. You need my help."

Sturges did his best to insert himself between the two of us. "Enough Preston. Let's just be cooperative and get to Sanctuary tomorrow; we can decide what to do from there." His voice wavered ever so slightly.

Silence fell over the lobby once again. I could feel all four sets of eyes drilling into me, their adrenaline, distrust, and fear clogged the air. What would I do if he remained stubborn and refused to cooperate? Leave? Probably the best solution, but it really would be like I was pulling the trigger myself. And that's my fault? It wouldn't come to that though; Alexandra and Sturges, at least, were smart enough. As it turns out, so was Preston. A few seconds later, the Minuteman's gaze fell and he shouldered the Laser Musket. Without another word he began climbing the stairs, followed by Julian and, with a glance back, Alexandra.

"What would you have done if he'd said no?"

I turned back to Sturges. "Left."

"Over a disagreement? Seems kinda flaky."

"I have more reason to distrust you than you do me. The decision to help you in the first place wasn't an easy one."

The question was plain as day on his face. 'More reason?' Trust and security aren't the same thing. He thought a moment before shrugging. "Maybe we can build some trust with a little heart to heart. I'm keen on what you can tell me."

I watched as he walked back to the collection of supplies and started placing them back in satchels. "What are you?"

A smile spread across Sturges' face. "I like to call myself a handyman but I dabble in just about anything mechanical. Like to read, try to get my hands on as many technical papers as I can. Some of them involved physics." He looked back at me. "MIT used to be one of the biggest tech schools around before The War."

There it is again, 'The War'. Unfortunately it didn't have anything to do with getting back to the UNSC. "And that means you know about Multiverse Theory?"

"Yeah, a little." The handyman shrugged. "It spawned from different theories back in the early 21st century, mainly tied to String Theory."

"How would that explain this?"

"Well… to give a summary that would probably offend a lot of the people who worked on the theory, there are four different levels to it; one of them is based on the uncertainty principles found in Quantum Mechanics. See, it's proposed that for every possible outcome to a situation, a split universe is created for that outcome. You flip a coin? A split universe is gonna be made for each heads and tails."

"Any idea how I'd get here?"

"There are some theories about how wormholes or black hole/white hole combinations could do something like tunnel between universes, but that isn't anything I'm well versed on. I brought some of my stuff I can look through, but if we're going to get info we can use it's gonna have to be from MIT."

My gaze wandered around the dilapidated interior of the museum while he spoke. "A lot would have to change to get here…"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure about that one big guy. You might be surprised. But hey I can't say much, your people were at least smart enough to not roast themselves over a nuclear pit."

… Dammit. "What happened?"

"The War?" The smaller man paused to study me, something running through his mind. "Tell you what, I give you the low down on our world if you give me one for yours."

I cocked my head. It isn't like the Covenant War or Humanity's general status is confidential information. "Within reason."

"Alright, sounds like story time to me."

Chapter 3: A Safe Place

Notes:

Greetings again from the realms of explosive mashups that probably don't make sense. Thank you all for your support so far and sorry for the long wait on this chapter. I'm thinking I want to do one long chapter each month; as a reader I like getting things in large chunks, but if you all would like to see more frequent, shorter chapters let me know. One other thing is I'd like to get more reviews, feedback from you guys and where you want to see the story go is important because this is a journey I hope we'll all be taking together. I'm not saying I'm going to implement all of it, but it makes it easier to see what you think of the story and how I can make it better. Anyways, have a chapter.

My shoulder was more stiff than anything else. I still couldn’t move it, the armor’s gel layer had hardened, but using my left arm would damage the joint more. The first good news came last night when a notification opened in my HUD announcing the repairs to my shield system were complete. The telltale sound of the barrier charging broke my conversation with Sturges for a moment while he studied me, confused. 

 

Now I watched the sun rise from the roof of our temporary haven. If this was Earth, that meant the front faced southwest. Sturges hadn’t been able to tell me anything more than theories about how I got here last night, but at least I have a good idea of what history led this… version of reality to its current state. On top of that, he had good briefs on a few of the parties in play in the area, except for one: the Institute. He knew their name, and that if I was looking for scientists and advanced technology, they were the ones to contact. Past that they were a mystery; from what he told me they were an organization that lived in the world of shadows and speculation. Horror stories of disappearing people and cleared out settlements. Sturges admitted not believing most of it, but speculation fills a vacuum better than anything. 

 

Stank of ONI MO.

 

Over the past few hours I’d tracked several animals slinking around the edges of the street; what looked like emaciated dogs and some form of massive, hairless rodent. Every so often, one would steal from the shadows to grab one of the corpses and drag it, or a piece, back to an alley. Distant gunfire sounded every so often. I get the feeling these people’s story isn’t an uncommon one. 

 

I slipped from my stomach up into a crouch and crept back from the Vertibird (what Preston had called the VTOL that crashed into the museum’s roof). The others were finishing preparations in the lobby: two party members too injured to walk were strapped to makeshift stretchers, each able bodied person carrying a satchel full of supplies from the dispatched raiders.

 

One of the injured was the man dying from his gunshot wound to the abdomen. I understood their sentiment, not wanting to leave the man behind, but he wasn’t going to survive. It took two people to carry each of the two injured which meant the only people who would be free to respond to a threat were myself, Preston, and… Mama Murphy. I didn’t expect much support in a firefight, but they’d at least be able to get to cover. 

 

Better make sure they don’t need to then.

 

I shook my head.

 

“We’re ready to move.” Preston’s voice carried less ire than it had last night; had he come to his senses, or had he just been sleep deprived? Either way the change was welcome, even if I doubted it would last.

 

“Good, I’ll retrieve you once I’ve cleared the path out of town.”

 

“And that will be…”

 

“Ten mikes- minutes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

I slipped out of the front door and back into the dilapidated world I’d found myself in. No signs of further Raider activity made itself apparent as I scouted toward the northwest side of town. Rocks, dead trees, and brown grass, and dirt greeted me at the edge of town. This place really was a wasteland. It felt as unwelcoming as any of the glasses planets I’d seen. Oh… there was a new, unpleasant memory: Covenant bombarding a colony’s surface until nothing survived, burning away any semblance of life with plasma fire. 

 

This… somehow this was more foreboding. This is Earth . Our most heavily defended stronghold, the one that had survived a Covenant occupation and small flood invasion. In this reality it’s nothing but dust and ash; a dead planet that, even with 200 years, hadn’t recovered in the slightest. This wasn’t the work of an advanced, genocidal alien conglomerate. I know what humans can do to each other, the memories were still just out of reach, but I know I had done my share to other humans. The UNSC never resorted to these means, even against the most fundamentalist Innie outpost. They sent me in, not nukes, and certainly didn’t employ a scorched earth policy (as on the nose as that phrase is under the circumstances).

 

Whatever happened, worrying right now won’t improve my chances of getting back to my reality.

 

Once I’d regrouped with the others at the museum, we began the march across this desolate waste that, at one time, had been Boston. Even now my mind was racing, trying to find a reasonable explanation for all of the insanity I was walking through. Everything was dead almost as certainly as if the Covenant had glassed the planet. Nukes could make vitrified glass, but I didn’t see any; 200 years was probably enough for most of it to erode away if there had been any. That was the only thing missing. 

 

Brown. That was all I could see. Even if there were trees or grass, they almost seemed dyed brown. Hell whenever we passed a building, no matter the color, it looked like I was viewing it through a brown filter. Along the way we passed countless cars rusting into the ground, burned out buildings, and piles of bones and powder that, at one point, had been bodies.

 

How had so little progress been made in 200 years? Yes a global nuclear war would be devastating for a society that hadn’t reached other planets yet, but 2 centuries is a long time. Tribal or feudal leadership wasn’t conducive to growth; maybe the Raiders were just one example of what had become of this world. From what Sturges had told me, the only ‘civilian’ settlements were small and inconsequential, many subject to attacks from bandits, wild animals, and ‘Supermutants’ (the engineer had a lot to say about them but the only things that mattered were ‘large, tough, and hostile’). There were towns pockmarking the wasteland, more heavily defended and centers of commerce, but still locally governed. All in all, outside of whatever the Institute could offer, I wasn’t liking my chances.

 

As we walked, I could feel eyes following us from somewhere; it was an instinct that had saved my life more times than I could count, developed over years of being caught off guard. What could I do here though? There was no hard cover and clear sightlines for hundreds of meters in every direction. With the surrounding landscape, they’d probably been tracking us for a while and I would be the primary target for any sniper. My shields would take the hit if need be, and they’d only get one chance. It was never a good idea to rely solely on your equipment to save you, but sometimes you don’t have a choice.

 

On top of the alarm buzzing in my head, and the desolate, brown landscape, the group’s pace was painfully slow. It took almost an hour to cover the first two kilometers with the number of stops and rest they required. The man with the gunshot wound to the stomach was unconscious by this point, face pale enough to belong to a dead man. His shallow, labored breathing was the only sign of life but they’d still refuse to put him out of his misery; at this point it wasn’t pragmatism, it was mercy. 

 

Emotions are a powerful thing, even when they’re misplaced.

 

They remained quiet for the most part, only murmuring something every so often about water, food, or rest. Just like with whomever was following us, I could feel them steal glances at me. They were all uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the first time and there wasn’t anything I could do. 

 

One memory came back in particular from a mission; it was a later operation where I’d been deployed with an ODST platoon as heavy support for a covert raid on an Insurrectionist outpost. They’d managed to establish it near Sigma Octanus IV sometime after the Covenant attacked the system. I never worked with a squad, and certainly never with one outside of the SPARTAN program, it didn’t matter though, we were all there to do a job. 

 

Outside of mission briefing and deployment, I didn’t talk with them and they didn’t try to engage me, which is fine. That didn’t stop the sense of distrust, almost hostility they radiated toward me. We were ambushed early on in the raid; we dealt with it, the ODST’s were excellent fighters if nothing else, but we were compromised. Not a big deal; I’d been in that situation dozens of times over the previous few years. My solution was always to move fast, stay ahead of their ability to organize responses as I dismantled them and create as much uncertainty as I could. The ODST’s didn’t have that option though, so it was either retreat or fight our way through the outpost heads up. 

 

I chose the latter, they disagree, so instead I suggested they fall back and plant explosives as they go. Once they were clear they detonate to give me some cover in the chaos and I’d eliminate the base commander before placing a satchel charge in the outposts’s substation and blowing it, the primary objectives.

 

They lost four men on the way out, probably wouldn’t have if I’d gone with them, but the operation was a success. The ride back was about as loud as a silent Pelican could be, every ODST trying to stare holes through my helmet. The platoon commander called me into his CO’s office once we’d rendezvous with the Starless Night where both reprimanded me. My response was simple: the mission was successful. They didn’t like that, filed an official complaint with ONI, and formally requested I be ‘suitably punished’.

 

It didn’t happen.

 

People don’t trust SPARTAN’s, at least not ones before the IV’s. We’re the result of circumstances that never should have existed. Some who know what we’ve been through will pity us, others shun us. All of them- all of them used us: we’re uniquely skilled, extremely effective, and no one would miss us, but very few truly trust us.

 

Some things don’t change, even in a different reality. Yes I was using them too, but these people don’t trust me, they just need me to get them somewhere safe. I gave a mental shrug; if it got me closer to answers it didn’t matter, I’d get the job done.

 

About 6 klicks in, a small town that looked just as dilapidated Concord loomed ahead. I directed the group around it to avoid a potential ambush; if the Raiders were the ones following us, I didn’t want to give them an opportunity to exact revenge though, with how many chances they’ve had to attack us from a distance, it felt like whoever was watching wasn’t here to fight, maybe just observe.

 

It was some time around noon when I found myself walking beside a small, sickly looking river. The greenish brown water reminded me I hadn’t eaten or drank since I woke up yesterday. Once we reached Sanctuary I could ask for something. 

 

Five minutes later the small… town came into view. It wasn’t much of one; maybe a dozen houses arranged in a U shape situated between the river and a hillside. It wasn’t ideal, but the collection of buildings was small enough for this group to maintain and with proper surveillance and preparation, it would be very difficult to mount a large surprise attack.

 

“Wow”, Alexandra mused, breathless. She had struggled throughout the journey with her left leg. It seemed like a mild ankle sprain from watching her walk, but that combined with having to carry a stretcher was enough to slow us to a crawl. “This looks like it might actually work.”

 

Preston wandered to a single story yellow house in the center of the collection with a large covered carport and most of its walls still upright. The others followed and deposited the two stretchers and supplies in the covered area. “Maybe. We got a lot of work to do before we can make that call. And that’s if the Raiders leave us alone.”

 

Julian joined him. “We’re pretty far out of their way now.”

 

“Someone followed us.” All eyes turned to me. 

 

“How do you know?” The sharp edge on Preston’s voice was back.

 

“It’s something you pick up on after a while. We were being watched once we left Concord.”

 

“You didn’t want to share that little piece of information with the rest of us?”

 

“How would it change anything?” 

 

“We could have tried to lose them?”

 

The sigh found its way out on its own. No we couldn’t have, not with how slow you move.  

 

My patience had been running low since last night. “We’re here now and this place can be turned into a defensible position.” The dying man’s breathing had been turning more and more labored throughout the day, but now it had the telltale rattle as fluid began filling his lungs. “That man only has a few minutes left.” I nodded to the still form. Was I using it as a diversion? Maybe, but the warning at least gave them a chance to say goodbye.

 

Alarm overtook the incredulity and the Minuteman hurried to his side, quickly followed by the others. “Mack? Mack!” He wouldn’t respond, the man was comatose and inches from death, but that didn’t stop the calling, shaking… pleading. 

 

Emotion welled up in my throat so suddenly I almost choked. It didn’t have anything to do with the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t place it. Their pleas, the desperation in their voices; it was something I’m sure I’d heard before but this was more familiar, more intimate than that.

 

I forced the emotion down and spent the next half hour while they grieved scouting the immediate area. The hill above had some form of disused installation or bunker built into it, possibly a fallout shelter. It looked like it had been a very, very long time since the hatch had been used. Getting inside might be difficult but if it really was a bunker it would be much more serviceable as a safe haven than a crumbling neighborhood. The site around its entrance told a story of panic; rusted shipping containers, discarded belongings that had degraded too far to be recognizable, and the multitude of half buried bones. The attack was sudden. Unexpected. These people must have been caught trying to make it to safety. 

 

Other than that, the collection of houses was surrounded by a river which provided some physical protection so long as the group did something to take advantage of it.

 

By the time I returned, they had moved the body off to the side and one of the others was digging a grave. Preston, who had been helping Sturges and Julian clear debris from the house, turned to me as I approached. “So what, gonna tell me ‘told you so’?” His tone made it clear he was looking for a fight; the glare only reinforced that. 

 

Patience was on its way out of the door. I shook my head. “You’ll have to deal with the guilt yourself.” That was it wasn’t it? He feels responsible for everything that has happened. From what Sturges told me, their group had been more than double the size originally and now they’d just lost one of their few remaining members. That was probably why he’d been so hostile to this point.

 

Confusion mixed with the anger and sorrow already present. “What are you talking about?”

 

“That man’s dead, he was always going to die, you knew but didn’t want to accept it. You feel guilty over him and the others.” I guess in a way that’s like saying ‘I told you so.’ Everyone had stopped and was looking at us yet again.

 

“And what do you know about leading people, huh? Having other people’s lives depending on you? You don’t know shit about what we’ve been through over the past month and you’re going to stand there and judge me for calling you on it?” By the end of his tirade, Preston’s voice was on the verge of breaking.

 

Maybe I couldn’t recall everything yet, but I know many of my ops were high risk and high priority; ones where if I failed, a lot of people could die. But that wasn’t something these people had any right to know. 

 

“Maybe not but if you don’t pull your shit together, it’s going to get worse.”

 

“I don’t ne-“

 

“Enough”, I barked in a tone that would have made Kristina jealous. It may have been the onset of exhaustion in part, but now he was taking loans out against my patience he had no way of returning. The others jumped, Preston almost stumbled over himself in the act. “I’m done arguing with you; work with me or point me toward someone who can help me.”

 

The Minuteman tried to keep himself puffed up, but the wind wasn’t in his sails. He wanted me to argue, didn’t want to deal with the mess he’d found himself. Tough shit. “Screw you.” His voice was muted but the irritation was clear as day. I didn’t respond and he turned back to the supplies scattered on the ground.

 

No one would meet my gaze and as much as I wanted to secure their new little home so I could get back to figuring out what to do next, I doubted any of them would be willing to do so. I stalked to a pile of supplies, grabbed a few small boxes of food, a carton of water, and left for one of the houses near the entrance to town. 

 

What the hell am I doing? Why am I helping these people; they clearly don’t want it. How do I know they have any valuable information past what Sturges said last night? That wasn’t much better than I could get in a mission brief anyway. 

 

I entered the last house before the bridge we crossed into town and slid into a sitting position against what was left of a living room wall. It creaked in protest. 

 

Why do I want to help them? Would it matter if I asked anyone else though? If these people could open a… wormhole to a different, better reality, wouldn’t they have done so by now? Can I even get back? What do I do if I can’t?

 

Would anyone miss me if I didn’t? It isn’t like there was a shortage of SPARTAN’s anymore. I looked down at the boxes of food I’d grabbed: two Salisbury Steaks and a pie of some sort. With a thought I released the lock on my helmet’s seal and undid the latch before pulling it off. The task was difficult with one arm but eventually I succeeded and got my first whiff of this Earth’s air. 

 

It was strange… clean, I could almost call it ‘crisp’. The air was a stark contrast to the dead, brown would around me. With everything around me, I expected it to be acrid, or stale but it had a freshness I’d never experienced before. Huh. I peeled open the first package and began eating.

 

Is anyone missing me? I was an extremely effective operative but like all III’s, I knew I had my baggage, just not exactly what it is yet. I’m an orphan, I know that much, but that wasn’t all. It didn’t matter for now, I still needed to get back to the UNSC, hell they might be interested in this new reality.

 

It didn’t take more than a minute or two to finish the boxes and water off but after that…? It dawned on me this is the first time I’ve had to myself without something else to keep me occupied. Well, other than the walk to Concord, but I had so little cognitive function at the time I’m not sure that counts. I sifted through my scattered memories once more, but what was I looking for? What happened immediately before I woke up but as with the night before I couldn’t remember; the last thing I remember was being introduced to a team of SPARTAN IV’s I’d been assigned to. That was the first time I’d ever officially been a part of anything more than a two man team. 

 

Maybe it’s my lack of experience meeting people outside of my support team, but the introduction was rather… strange. I was stationed on the UNSC Vibrant Dawn , a heavy destroyer, awaiting my next assignment. I had been on my equivalent of leave for a little over a month by that point (which was an eternity) when I’d received the deployment. It was pretty obvious my life was about to change and my handlers were taking their time to figure- well something. Turns out that was who would take the burden of my integration into a squad. 

 

Captain James Fourier drew that short straw. 

 

Avoiding regs was my SOP and on top of that most avoided me after the first few days when they learned I wasn’t a IV, or anywhere near as well adjusted as one. Unlike the IV’s, I also kept my armor on at all times which… probably made them uncomfortable. All of that considered, eating normally happened on night shift, alone in the mess. Third day in, Fourier comes waltzing in and I knew what that meant. 

 

Great. I didn’t need to be a part of a squad.

 

The Captain planted himself in front of me, looking down with what I could only describe as an utterly blank expression. “Lieutenant, Captain James Fourier. I’m your squad leader.” My response, or lack thereof, didn’t seem to put him off. “Glad we have an understanding. I hold roll call at 0430 and we will be running PT and Combat Drills at 0500. I know you’re fond of it, but leave your armor in your station tomorrow.” I thought that was it, but the IV frowned at me. “I know your dossier, all of it, condition of me taking you on. I can’t understand what you’ve been through, but you’re a member of my squad now which means I’m going to afford you the same respect and treat you the same as I would any SPARTAN. That also means I don’t give a damn about how effective you’ve been on your own, though I will say I’m extremely impressed, you’re a part of a squad now and I expect you to act like it.” He came to attention and snapped off a salute. “Welcome to the club.” With that the IV turned on his heels and marched back out of the mess. 

 

I hadn’t dealt with many superiors outside of the SPARTAN program and the occasional ONI Officer. The few times I had it was a pissing match, non-SPARTAN, non-intel officers trying to drop the weight of their pins on anyone they could. For the most part, I ignored them and went on with my business. Fourier had been different; maybe it was because he was a IV, maybe it’s because, as he put it, he knew my dossier. The Captain wasn’t the normal stick up his ass superior. He hadn’t ‘ordered’ me to do anything; he had laid out his expectations and ended with that. He didn’t seem like he was trying to prove anything.

 

Two sets of footsteps approaching from the other side of town pulled me out of my musings. I looked down at my helmet lying in my lap and a grin crept across my mouth. More people knew me by that than my actual face; it was something I’d never really had to accept, I’m a SPARTAN, that comes with the territory.

 

I slid the helmet back into place and resealed the suit a moment before Alexandra and Julian entered the house. She looked at the discarded food containers. 

 

“Was that enough?”

 

I nodded and silence blanketed the three of us as the two of them studied me. It wasn’t unusual, but their expressions weren’t the same as the regs or civilians I’d been around before. The familiar fear was there, but only a hint. Even after the end of the Human-Covenant war, most civilians who survived hadn’t seen the fighting outside of news feeds. They were sheltered and it showed.

 

These people, they fought for their lives every day, they were used to a reality where death hung over their heads. I guess I’m just an extension of that. The majority of what I saw was open curiosity which worried me.

 

“What can I do for you?”

 

“I never thanked you for saving us. None of us have and I know that’s been frustrating, especially with Preston’s attitude. You just have to understand the position he’s in, we’re all in.”

 

Thank me? Frustrating? No, frustrating was not knowing what the hell was going on, having no idea how I got here or if I can get back, or where here is . The fighting- “Fighting is my job. I know what Preston is going through, but if he doesn’t get over it you won’t survive.”

 

Instead of arguing, the woman just shrugged. “You could have just said ‘you’re welcome’.” Her eyes wandered around my armor a moment before settling on my face again. “Why are you staying here?”

 

“Your group wouldn’t survive the week without help.”

 

“While that’s true, I still don’t see how it’s your problem. You don’t know us.”

 

Her question mirrored my own. If I’m being honest, it was most likely because it was the right thing to do. These people were just trying to get by in a world out to kill anyone and everyone. Doing the ‘right’ thing wasn’t something that came along often in my job.

 

And now I suddenly have a conscience?

 

“You need help and I can provide it for now.”

 

She frowned. “For now? So whenever you feel like leaving you’re just gonna let us hang high and dry then?”

 

“Not what I said.”

 

“But you’re making it sound like that. I know you need to get back to your people and all, I just need to know how long we have before that happens.”

“I don’t have an answer. It sounds like the Brotherhood of Steel or The Institute are the only ones who may have the means to help.”

 

Alexandra nodded, but the woman looked defeated. “Diamond City is going to be your best bet; they’re the largest settlement in The Commonwealth.”

I cocked my head, wasn’t she supposed to be worried about me leaving? “Sturges told me about them last night.”

 

“So… so when are you leaving for there?”

 

Unfortunately, while Sturges gave me a general idea, I don’t know where Diamond City is nor what obstacles lie between me and it. “Not until my arm is healed. Probably a week.”

 

“What do you think we can do between now and then to make us safer?”

 

A ghost of a smile flashed across my lips; here for less than an hour and she was already preparing for the next move. “Set up fortified positions, establish watches, abbreviated combat training. I’ll leave the sustainability to you and your people.”

 

Both looked confused. “What does that mean?”

 

They don’t understand what I said? Limited vocabulary?

 

“Set up defenses and train. You’ll have to handle basic supplies: food, water, medicine, ammunition."

 

“Right, we can take care of that.”

 

I’d been awake for 24 hours and the unconsciousness before that probably didn’t count for rest. That along with the injury to my shoulder, my body was screaming for sleep. There were at least 6 more hours of daylight.

 

“I need to sleep. I’ll be here for the next few hours, let me know if anything happens.”

 

Alexandra nodded and turned to leave. Julian’s gaze lingered on me a few moments longer, a question clear on his face before he turned to follow his mother back to the rest of the group. Their footsteps barely had time to reach the rest of the group before I felt sleep take hold of my eyelids and force them closed.

-a loud bang and pain lanced through my left arm. An instant later, the pistol was in my hand and aimed at the front door, late afternoon light streaming through the opening and the countless holes in the walls. The undersuit was cold with sweat and blood pounded out of my heart carrying adrenaline with it. Idle conversation made its way from the group, but nothing else out of the ordinary. 

 

I lifted myself into a sitting position and came up to a crouch. The next few minutes were spent clearing the house and immediate area but didn’t turn anything up. Returning to the living room, I stood for a moment and forced myself to calm down. My heart was still trying to hammer its way out of my chest.

 

What is going on? The crash and pain in my shoulder… I’d been sitting when I fell asleep so that must have been me falling over, but why does it feel like I just made it through the largest firefight of my life? I don’t remember ever having an adrenaline dump like that. Particularly vivid dream? I cast my thoughts back into the still murky depths of my mind, but none of the operations I’ve had in the past few years would get to me like that. Before? I wouldn’t have had a reaction that acute to anything .

 

So it was the Covenant attack when I was a child. My eyes drifted back shut as fractured memories began parading by. An acrid, burning smell. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was the smell of plasma burns on skin, people being mowed down by the advancing Covenant forces. Bright flashes. Shouting. A lot of shooting. Fire everywhere . My family… I couldn’t remember what happened to them, but they died during the assault. I only remember boarding an evac shuttle. 

 

I was covered in mostly dried blood. 

 

The shocked looking woman I was given to barely registered, I merely stared ahead and did what I was told; my brain had shut down, I had shut down. In that moment, just like my family, I didn’t exist anymore.

 

Why was so much missing? I may not be back to 100%, but those feel far more fractured than anything else. Trying to delve further into them had no impact.

 

What HAPPENED?

 

I stood there, fuming. How could I not remember what happened to my family? What happened to my home? What the Covenant did to me?

 

How could I not remember what turned me into this .

 

After a moment, reason decided to reinsert itself. What happened then is ancient history and didn’t help me here. What I need to do now is make sure I and these people have a defensible position. I need a place to recover and they need a home.

 

Sounds of conversation still floated from the center of town accompanied by the crackling of a fire. I paused once more to calm myself before beginning toward the group. 

 

As long as Preston remained resistant, things would be difficult. How could I convince him to be cooperative? Dammit. I’ve never dealt with this issue. Either I was operating on my own or, rarely, with soldiers/operatives with the same mission objectives.

 

30 seconds later I was approaching the group, gathered around a small fire on the concrete floor of the car port. The Minuteman was facing me from where he was seated, eyes glued to my faceplate as I walked under the carport. What was it going to be this time?

 

“So you’re giving us a week of your time?”

 

I nodded. The question didn’t sound like a challenge, at least not as much as I expected. He hesitated, clearly fighting with something.

 

“Thanks, we need all the help we can get. What do you need us to do?” His voice was still reserved but there was no halting speech pattern or begrudging tone.

 

It took me a moment to process the question; had he just been… cooperative? Beyond bragging about how good of a shot he is? That was a sharp about face. I looked at the others gathered around the fire, all except for one of the other uninjured men were looking at me expectantly. 

 

“You’re willing to cooperate?”

 

Alexandra answered for him. “We talked and everyone agreed that you deserve our trust, what with what you did and what you told Sturges.”

 

Trust? Might be a bit soon and it isn’t exactly necessary as long as you’re willing to follow instructions. I opened my mouth, but caught the words before they made themselves heard. Trust is important for a team. Without that, no one makes it out. Don’t take it for granted. I don’t remember who said that, but it was probably applicable here. 

 

I shrugged mentally; they’re trust meant something to them and if they were going to give it…

 

My head dipped. “Thanks.”

 

“What do you want us to do?”

“Establish a safe fallback position in case of attack, set a patrol schedule and route to alert for an incoming attack, and an effective communication system. Each of you have experience with firearms?” I got nods. “You’ll need to build on that. Do any of you know squad tactics, or close quarters and hand to hand combat?”

 

Preston frowned “We’ve fought before.”

 

That’s a no. “I don’t have time to teach you any specifics so you’ll have to practice with each other.”

“We’ve all fought before.” The Minuteman’s voice had It’s edge again.

 

“Fighting and knowing proper strategies and tactics are different. I trust you can hold your own in some fights, but that won’t get you far in this position.”

“Okay”, Alexandra cut in, “how do you want to do this?”

“Up at dawn tomorrow, we’ll get started then.”

I finished tying off the cord and stepped back to examine the tightly packed bundle of sheet metal. It was large enough to fit 2 or 3 people behind and thick enough to stop anything short of a large caliber armor penetrating round.

 

Six others laid against the building we’d designated as the primary residence and fallback position, a mostly intact turquoise single story . We had enough material to make a dozen more, several of the houses were framed with steel beams and sheet metal (oddly), but we wouldn’t need that many for one house. We can use the others to set up firing positions around town.

 

While I finished the bundle Sturges and Dan were trying to wrestle another into place behind the living room wall. I dragged mine into the house and propped it up against the doorway. I was about to step forward and grab the pseudo armor plating when I stopped myself.

 

“Do you want help?”

 

Sturges grunted, frustrated. “Dammit. Yeah, can you lift this thing far enough to get it in the slots?”

 

The handyman had come up with a way to anchor the bundles to the house using small brackets bolted to the framing which would allow them to slide in and out so they could replace any that were damaged. Problem for them was they were about a half meter off the ground and the plates must have weighed in at around 500 kilos. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thanks. Next thing I’m gonna do is hinge these things. Don’t have material to do that yet though. Maybe pulleys?”

 

I looped my right arm over the plate and grabbed as far down as I could; since these were a mix of random pieces of material, there were plenty of places to grab hold. Once I’d lifted it into place and lowered the plate down into the brackets, I gave it a tug to make sure the brackets would hold.

 

“What’s it like?”

 

My gaze turned back on Sturges. He was looking up at me with his own unique mix of curiosity and skepticism. “What are you asking?”

 

“To be a supersoldier. Seems like everything would be a lot easier if I could just move it out of the way.”

 

While I never told him what I was, the engineer had figured it out pretty quickly. 

 

“I don’t think much about it. I just am, have been for a long time.” He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the answer, but we’d been playing this game for the past four days; he knew he wouldn’t get much more out of me.

 

“You had to have given it some thought, right? You see us struggling with something, or hell even other soldiers from your own military, and then you just come in and do it.” 

 

So much for that. Seems like he’s given up on the technical details though, he’s gone into ‘shrink’ mode.  

 

“If I can do something, I do it. I’ve never found it worth the time to think about.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Not even when you’re bulldozing people in a fight?”

 

People… if that was all I had to fight.

 

“No.”

 

A smirk dribbled across his face. “Makin’ progress.” He laughed. “That’s more responses than I’ve ever gotten out of you.”

 

I sighed. “Do you need any more help?”

 

“Can you put the rest of the plates in? The brackets are all set up.”

 

My feet were carrying me toward the door before I gave them the order.

 

“Oh come on, we’re just having fun!”

 

“I’m sure you can set up a pulley system.”

 

“The ceiling won’t hold it!”

“Build an A-frame.” I waved over my shoulder and ducked out of the house. 

 

The late morning sun was beaming through partial cloud cover and gave everything a ruddy brown appearance. Preston, Julian, and Marcy were on watch while Jun, Alexandra, and Murphy were planting a small garden behind the yellow house with a carport. We have enough food to last a few weeks, but whatever they were growing wouldn’t be ready to eat before then so at some point they will have to scavenge from the surrounding towns. 

 

More than any time I can remember, I was bored. There wasn’t much work to do and I let the group handle most of it; they were the ones who needed the experience. Down time wasn’t something I was accustomed to, and it left me with too much time to think. I was eager to get on the move, but my shoulder was still too stiff to be useful. It no longer hurt, but it would be a hindrance in a fight.

 

A few more days.

 

In my idle time, I gave the civilians the best crash course in combat tactics I could. Every one of them could handle a firearm, to be expected in their environment. Preston and Sturges were the most experienced of the group, but none of them would last in a protracted fight against skilled opponents. 

 

The mentality was easy enough to see: Preston thought he was a force in combat, which he probably was against the average Raider. Maybe that’s all they need in this world of small, separated colonies, but there’s always the chance it wasn’t. Maybe they were best served moving to one of the larger settlements like Diamond City. The city most likely had their own standing force which would, largely, negate the need for personal defense measures. I’d mentioned the possibility a few days ago, but they didn’t hesitate to reject it; they wanted to have their own settlement to live how they wanted, even if that meant a much shorter opportunity to do so.

That was their decision to make.

 

A quiet chirping caught my attention from the northwest, up the hill. It wasn’t the odd bird I’d grown accustomed to, the pattern was too regular and mechanical. The bunker? 

 

Not abandoned.

 

That lift hadn’t been used in a very long time, was it possible someone outside was opening it? A heartbeat later, I was running toward the bridge where Preston was patrolling. 

 

The Minuteman wheeled on me as I approached. “What is it?”

 

“The bunker up the hill is active. Get everyone back to the safe house. Don’t bother putting the armor panels into their brackets, lean them up against the wall, stay in cover until I come back.”

 

Preston had mellowed out since we arrived, but his eyes still narrowed and he grimaced. “And if you don’t come back? What, we just stay in hiding?”

I don’t have time for your bullshit at the moment; that bunker could spill anything into our laps at any time.

 

“Keep everyone safe, I’m heading up to stop anything that comes out.” I didn’t wait for a response before making for the hillside. If this was a feint, I should be able to get back to town before anything happened as long as Preston followed instructions and got everyone to safety.

 

As I ran, the ground began trembling and the chirping grew louder, more distinct. The lift must have descended into the bunker. 

 

I reached the top of the hill and took cover behind one of the shipping containers inside the fence line on the far side from the town. No more than 10 seconds later the hillside began rumbling again and I could hear the whir and clattering of old, underused machinery. I leaned around the container and aimed the 10mm sidearm at the mouth of the opening left by the platform.

 

Slowly, the lift emerged, a man wearing a blue jumpsuit with a large yellow 111 embossed in the center of his back. He was facing away from me, left hand shading his eyes, looking out across Sanctuary and into the Commonwealth. He had another 10mm handgun in his right. I couldn’t see his face, but something in his body language was off; he held himself gingerly and as he took in the view his shoulders sagged. 

 

“What happened?” The question was so quiet, so defeated, I barely caught it.

The man stood there a moment, mild tremors in his legs and arms. A sob. He dropped the handgun and fell to his knees, then pitched forward onto his hands and dry heaved before retching. 

 

While I may not have seen much in this new world, this wasn’t in line with what I had. This guy came out of that bunker which may have been sealed for the past 200 years; this was the first time he was seeing outside. 

 

Several minutes passed without him moving. I didn’t have any more time to waste, if this was a ploy I needed to expose it before anything could happen down in Sanctuary. I came around the edge of the container and crept toward him silently. Once I was within a few meters I stopped.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

Naturally he didn’t follow the instruction, but not in the way I expected. Before he turned or tried to stand, his right hand darted back toward the grip of his discarded handgun. I had to check my trigger finger and stopped myself from putting a round through the back of his head. He planted his left foot and tried to pivot toward me in his kneel. As the weapon came around I delivered a straight kick to his hand and the pistol careened away from him. He grunted but didn’t stop. The man lunged at me, I sidestepped and brought my forearm down on his shoulder blades with enough force to put him on the ground but not quite hard enough to break anything.

 

I put my foot on his back before he could try anything else. “Do that again and lose your head.”

 

“What do you want? My son wasn’t enough for you fuckers? My wife ?” He tried to turn. “Tell whoever you work for, I’m going to end them.”

 

“Calm down”, I commanded. “You aren’t demanding anything. What’s your name?”

“Fuck you.”

 

I leaned down and pressed the muzzle to the back of his head. “Try again.”

 

“Eat shit.”

 

I wasn’t going to fire; he wasn’t a threat, but this guy was clearly agitated and a gun on him wasn’t going to get him talking. Try a different approach.

 

“What happened to your son and wife?”

 

“What are you talking about? You people killed her and stole my son.”

 

“Were they in the bunker with you?”

 

“Of course they were.” His voice was incredulous.

“Then I didn’t do anything with them. Calm down and explain.”

 

He hesitated. Was he thinking? Or was the man ignoring me?

 

“Let me get up first.”

 

It was my turn to hesitate. That jumpsuit didn’t leave much room for hiding another weapon.

 

Even if it did, what is he going to do?

 

I stood and stepped away. His first attempt didn’t go well when he put pressure on his right hand and collapsed back to the ground with a groan. A moment passed and he got his knees under him, stood and turned. The customary shocked expression crossed the man’s face as he looked up at me, and then to the muzzle pointed at his head.

 

“Now explain.”

 

Whoever this guy was, he didn’t seem to mind the weapon; he was still clearly upset but if anything he looked mildly incredulous.“How do I know you aren’t with them?”

 

Whoever them are. Can someone make sense for once?

 

“Take my word for it.”

 

“Bullshit, I want proof.”

 

Is this guy serious? If I was with whoever he thought I was, what good would asking him do? Could he be stalling for someone to attack the town? Not unless there was another entrance to the bunker. I shook my head. “I’m out of patience, are you trying to stall? What’s your play?”

 

“I want my son back.”

 

Whatever. “Go.” I motioned with the handgun down the path toward Sanctuary. “You won’t get far if you run.”

 

Despite whatever was going through his head, the guy wasn’t dumb; he looked from me to the gun and back before turning and marching down the trail. There was something different about this one, he had training and experience. Could he be a part of the Brotherhood of Steel? If I get the chance, I’ll take a look in that bunker; from first glance it seems as though it’s much more robust than anything else I’ve seen. He clutched his hand to his chest as we walked. I don’t know if I kicked it hard enough to break anything, but metal usually won against bone. 

 

As soon as Sanctuary came into sight, he stopped and his shoulders sagged. 

 

“What happened? What happened? ”

 

I grabbed his shoulder best I could with my left hand before he had a chance to run into the neighborhood. It was as much to keep him from getting shot as it was to protect the others. “Slow down. What do you mean?”

He rounded on me, wide eyed with desperation. “What hap- the bombs.” The man’s head snapped back to the houses across the river. “This isn’t right. The war, the bombs. I was just- we were just-” He looked off into the distance, toward where downtown Boston should be. By now his body was wracked with tremors. “I don’t understand, how can everything be like this?” His voice was barely a whisper as he stared at the dilapidated, rust ridden shells that were, at one point, houses. 

 

Bombs… he’s talking about the nuclear world war that turned the planet into a wasteland. He was talking about it like he’d been there. “You were around during the war?”

 

The term ‘saw a ghost’ never applied to anything better than the look on the man’s face. “I- I watched a nuke hit Chicago.” He paused, clearly fighting with what he wanted to say next. “Why is there no fighting? No war? Why does everything look like it has been destroyed and left to rot?” The look on his face made it clear he didn’t want the actual answer; he knew, or at least had an idea. He was desperate to hear anything else.

 

“The war happened 200 years ago.”

 

Somehow, his eyes widened even further with disbelief and he sagged out of my grip to the ground. “2- 200… 200… years?” The man’s face was pale white.

 

This guy isn’t acting. I recognized the same disbelief and confusion I’d felt when I first arrived.

 

“No… No… No. No. No. No. No, we were just here. I just had- Nora had Shaun and we went into the vault- they said it was decontamination, those pods. How am I here ?” The words were coming so quickly they were fighting to get out. He sat, staring at the collection of partially collapsed houses muttering to himself. I could relate to how he felt but I’ve never had the luxury of allowing something like this to shut me down. Should I try to get him moving again? I watched  the man buried deep in denial. Probably not; he isn’t a threat at the moment.

 

Decontamination pods? Wouldn’t be time travel right? How else can someone pass through 200 years without noticing? Simple solution is usually the right one. “Cryogenics. You were frozen.”

 

The muscles in the man’s neck almost seemed to creak as he turned his head to look at me. “Frozen?” He said the word as if it was the most mysterious subject he’d ever heard of. He struggled to his feet. “Can I- I used to live here- can I go see my house?”

 

“Which is it?”

 

“Small blue one, 4 houses to the left of the bridge.”

 

Of course it’s the safe house. “We’ll see.”

 

Confusion dominated the man’s face as he looked back at me. “Can you help- can you help me? What do I do? I have to get my son but… this world… the time I’ve lost- we’ve lost. I don’t know what to do.”

 

I wish I could; I was in the same boat. “I don’t know. Are you good to move?” He nodded numbly. “Cross the bridge, go to the yellow house in the middle of town with the carport. My statement about running stands.”

 

Without another word, he began walking again. My attention was split between him and the safe house- that at one point in the distant past had been his. Those in the group with itchy trigger fingers were a worry, so I stuck close and put myself between him and the house in case one of them couldn’t hold their water. For his part, the guy was still looking around, eyes wide and face white. 

 

As we reached the house, Preston emerged and approached the carport. “What’s going on here?”

 

The man sat down on the concrete floor, hard. “This man came out of the bunker at the top of the hill. Says he’s from before the war.”

 

“Bunker?” Preston studied the man. “That was a Vault.” I cocked my head. “Vaults were fallout shelters made by Vault-Tec. They were pretty shady. Most Vaults weren’t to protect people, they were running experiments. This guy says he’s from before the war? He doesn’t look like a Ghoul, how is that possible?”

 

“Cryogenics.”

“Cryo-what?”

“He was frozen.”

 

The Minuteman still looked confused but his face said he wanted to leave that for later. “Hey, I know this is probably hard but can you tell me your name? Where are you from?”

 

He pointed at the blue one story. “Nate.”

 

I smirked. Well… he got what he asked for.  

 

Preston looked even more confused now. “You’re from the north?”

 

A shaking head. “That’s my house.”

 

“Oh.” He looked between the safe house and our guest. “You lived there… before the war?”

 

Suddenly, a switch was thrown I didn’t know was there. Nate jumped to his feet. “Yes I lived there goddammit.” His voice was equal measures harsh and desperate. “I need to find my son. He was less than a year old when he was taken. He- he-” the man’s voice broke and it was a moment before he’d gathered himself again. “He won’t survive out here. I need to find him. I need to find him.”

 

“Calm down for a-”

“No! I’m not calming down. You’re telling me to calm down. This asshole told me to calm down.” He motioned at me. “My son is missing and no one else seems to care.”

 

This isn’t going to get us anywhere; I stepped forward. “Do you know where he was taken?”

 

A moment’s hesitation. “No.”

“Who took him?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you know why he was taken?”

 

“No.” The man’s face began to fall back to its state of disbelief and desperation.

 

“How long ago was he taken?”

 

“Not- not that long. I don’t think.”

“So you don’t have any information.”

Nate’s eyes stabbed into my visor, wild, searching for- hoping for answers. “I saw one. I saw the one that shot my wife. And there was another, someone in some sort of HAZMAT suit.”

 

I looked at Preston. He just shrugged. “Diamond City is his best bet.”

Diamond City seems to be your answer for everything.

 

“What’s Diamond City?”

 

“It’s the largest city around here. A long time ago, someone set up a city in the old baseball park.”

 

Confusion joined the melody of emotions on the man’s face. “Fenway? Fenway Park is the largest… ‘city’ here? How many people live there?”

 

“I don’t know, a little over a thousand maybe.”

“ A thousand? As in one thousand?”

 

That was my response.

 

It was Preston’s turn to look confused. “Yes.”

“Is that normal?” He looked at me.

 

I shrugged.

 

“Well… downtown is a good 20 miles away, are there at least any cars we can use?”

 

With what’s left of everything around here… He followed my gaze to the rusting hulk that used to be his car. When I looked back at Nate, much of the disbelief was gone, replaced by steel. That expression is one I’ve seen before; he had a mission and objective. It was time to move.

 

“I need to leave then, I can’t let these guys have a bigger head start.”

 

Preston shook his head. “Look friend, there’s a lot going on here I don’t know about, but I do know trekking to Diamond City on your own is going to get you killed.”

 

Some of the confusion returned to Nate’s expression. “Wha- why?”

 

“Raiders, Ferals, Super Mutants, Yao Guai, any of the various bugs.” The Minuteman paused for a moment before, in a much quieter voice adding, “gunners.” He shook his head. “That’s without any of the hotspots or rad-storms. I understand wanting to go after your son but doing so right now wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

 

“I don’t know what any of that means but- but I can’t just sit here. I have to go. I have to find Shaun.”

 

Preston looked at me. 

 

“I’m not leaving yet.”

“He’s right, the longer he waits, the further his son’s kidnappers get.”

“I’m taking enough risks with the number of unknowns on the way.”

 

He scoffed. “Looked like you dealt with those Raiders easy enough. This one isn’t about what you need, it’s what he needs.” Preston waved at Nate.

 

I didn’t have to help you , but I did. I looked at Nate. I hadn’t even agreed to bring this man along. My objective is to get back to my reality as quickly as possible and this injury has already delayed that long enough; the last thing I need is an anchor. On top of that, why was Preston assuming I would agree to babysit this guy across almost 30 clicks of hostile territory I had no intel on? 

 

My gaze returned to the Minuteman. “Don’t volunteer me.”

 

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the two of them and past the rest of the group who had congregated around the carport.

 

Would be a perfect time for someone to attack.

I spent the rest of the day walking the perimeter around Sanctuary. The others left me alone, as had become customary while I was on patrol. I was grateful this time; I needed the space. Nate wasn’t in the same position I am, technically speaking, but our situations were similar, enough that it drew my mind back to the question ‘how?’ It wasn’t a useful question to ask; regardless of how much time I spent contemplating it, I didn’t have the scientific background to even begin to develop a theory. But how could I not? I’m in an alternate reality (probably). In addition, the possibility remains that if I do find a group this world considers scientifically advanced, they don’t have the ability to do so either. Not only are they 300 calendar years behind, but the war this version of Earth suffered seems to have set them back another half millenium. That possibility was terrifying, or as close as something could be. At the end of the day it would just be another change; I’d adapt and survive.

 

Light from the sun was fading over the brown, pockmarked horizon and I was standing by the western bridge when someone came to find me. Alexandra, Sturges, or Julian usually brought me a few things to eat and some water. It was… nice. Nice to have someone who genuinely seemed to give a damn, even if it was because I was their best chance at survival. 

 

And they were still scared of me. 

 

This wasn’t one of them though. The gait was wrong, too heavy, closer to a march. I didn’t have to look to know Nate was approaching from the town.

 

Is he coming to ask? What else would he want from me?

 

“You sprained my wrist.” Sarcasm? I guess he’s trying to redo first impressions.

 

“I guessed.”

 

He walked up beside me and stopped, studying the dimming landscape. The newly thawed man had changed out of his skin tight jumpsuit into a pair of dirty jeans and t-shirt. He still had the bulky device strapped to his wrist. What the hell is that thing? 

 

We stood in silence until the light dissipated. What was his play? He wants me to escort him to Diamond City, but is he playing the waiting game? How is that going to work?

 

“Your friends told me a little about you.” I turned to see him looking up at me. “They said you don’t like to talk.”

 

“I don’t have much to say?”

The man smiled. “It usually makes meeting people a bit easier.” His pause afterward was asking for me to fill it, but I could see where the conversation was going; if he wanted to go down this road I wasn’t going to move it along. “They also told me you’re a supersoldier of some sort from a different reality. Not like the regular people we have in power armor here. Kind of a weird explanation but…” he grimaced, “well nothing makes much sense right now.”

“Ask.”

“Would you say ‘yes’?”

 

“Haven’t thought about it.”

 

Nate huffed. “Sounds like a ‘no’.” A shrug. “I’ve got a few days to convince you if you aren’t willing to leave earlier. After getting briefed on what’s out there, I don’t think I’m in any condition to chase after Shaun. As much as I need to.”

 

“You’re military.”

 

“Was. 16 years. Saw a lot of action. Never met a soldier- anyone like you. How long have you been in?”

 

“A while.”

“Yeah. They said you didn’t like to talk about that.”

 

“They don’t need to know.” The words seemed to fall out as if on their own but I didn’t see any need to revise them.

 

“Do you have something to hide?”

 

That’s a dangerous question. I turned my head to look back down at him. “You don’t need to know either.”

 

He held up his hands, the right was in a makeshift splint. “I won’t pry, I know how that goes.”

While I don’t think he was trying to be manipulative, he had an ulterior motive. It didn’t help him that I know what it is. I squared my shoulders to him. “Being personable and ‘getting to know’ me aren’t going to work; I don’t appreciate being exploited.”

 

“I got that.” I waited for the explanation. “I’m here because I need help, but if I’m going to ask for your help I need to know what I’m getting into. I’m not a charity case, I will find another way even if you’re the most convenient option. Shit, that and a conversation with someone not from an apocalypse would be nice.”

“I’m not the right person for small talk.”

 

Nate gave me a wry expression. “You don’t say.” He shook his head. “A few hours ago I was talking with my wife about taking Shaun to a Vet’s event on a beautiful autumn day. You don’t remind me that my world is gone with every word you say; you don’t have the same… vulnerability they do. Damn that was a nice word; Nora would have been proud.” He offered a sad smile, but he was choking down a sob behind it. Even I could see that.

 

Pain… now there’s something I know. 

 

But this still isn’t the same as helping Alexandra’s group. Regardless of what happened in Concord, I needed information and a place to rest and heal. They’ve been useful for both. Escorting Nate across 20 miles of hostile ground when he would slow me down dramatically which would increase the likelihood of a fight he would then be a liability in wasn’t enticing. If it was five years ago, I would have refused him outright. If it was 10 months ago, before I’d been assigned to Fourier’s squad, I would have said ‘no’. I was still on the verge of doing so.

 

I guess all Fourier’s effort to ‘improve my personal relationships’ was doing something . 

 

Then there was the reason he was asking, and it hit too close to home. I wasn’t sure if it was pushing me toward or away from accepting the added baggage. 

 

Nate grunted. “Can I ask you something?” I shrugged. “Would you... answer if I did?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Do you have a family?”

 

I stared at him. 

 

Do I have a family? No, they’re all dead. I know they're all dead because I know I watched them die, but I can’t remember anything about it.

 

My hands balled into fists involuntarily and I felt the same frustration I buried when I’d remembered this the other day surge back into focus. The same images flashed through my mind, if anything even more vivid than they had before.

 

What gave you the right to ask something like that? 

 

Pain, anger, rage, sadness, loss, and a gaping, vast numbness all fought for my attention. My mind was being bombarded with questions I had no answers for. I shut them off, tuned the emotions and the questions out and shoved them as far away as I could. No, I wasn’t here to deal with this, I’m here to accomplish my next mission.

But the fury didn’t subside.

 

This isn’t useful, anger will only impede my ability to make sound decisions.

 

Logic, sound reasoning, it didn’t matter. For the first time in a long time I was pissed . Maybe it wasn’t at Nate, but he was the one who’d asked.

 

I need to leave.

 

So that’s what I did; without another word, I turned and left the smaller man to wonder what happened.

 

Why can’t I remember? What’s in the way?

 

As far as I can remember, I hadn’t thought about this in years, so why is it surfacing now? Why is it coming back up when I need a sound mind and clear path forward? Why can’t I put it back away? 

 

No… there was one time before this. Amanda, one of the IV’s had asked about my childhood after I’d been with the squad two and a half months. They were always doing that, prodding at me, trying to get me to open up the same way the shrinks had once the SPARTAN III project had originally been integrated. There were a few of us who weren’t easy cases to crack. 

 

Unfortunately for me, her, and everyone else I didn’t remember much of my childhood; hard to when it only lasts 4 or 5 years. 

 

Those first few months were extremely quiet times; it was too much time not moving, acting, fighting . It gave them too much time to ask questions and me too much time to think. I hadn’t walked off when she asked, but I didn’t answer either.

 

“HEY! ASSHOLES!” The voice coming from the south bank was amplified through the most distorted speaker I’d ever heard.

 

What now?  

 

“YOU’RE SURROUNDED SO IT’S TIME WE HAD A LITTLE TALK. SEND OUT WHOEVER IS IN CHARGE OR WE START SHOOTING.”

Chapter 4: The Journey Begins

Notes:

Salutations from the realm of imaginary stories within other imaginary stories. I'm trying to make a dynamic between the M/C and Nate that borders on tenuous without being awkward, so let me know what you all think about that their interactions. Things will begin moving into the beginning of the game's story shortly, but after the first few events, it's going to get interesting and, hopefully, go in directions you guys don't expect. Enjoy!

Who the hell announces their attack? I'd have to table the reminiscing for now.

My wandering had taken me back to the base of the hill; I hadn't seen anyone but it was possible they were hiding in the forest. As much as I wanted to clear the area, priority had to be securing the group. I jogged back to the safehouse where everyone had gathered.

"-good idea", Nate finished. He and Preston seemed to be butting heads over what to do.

"We don't know how many there are, or where they might be."

"How many, realistically, would this group be able to gather?"

"Most Raider bands aren't much larger than 40 or 50, hard to sustain more than that with how they tend to live." The Minuteman looked at me. "At least half of them died in Concord, so 25 on the high side."

Nate grimaced. "Shit."

25? That shouldn't be much trouble. The question was how I would keep these people alive while I dealt with the Raiders. If there were a significant number in the hills above, they would be the largest threat. I can deal with that as long as they're able to hold off whoever would be approaching from across the river until I'm done.

The ex-soldier shook his head. "Is there any chance we convince them to leave?"

Preston shot a glance at me. "Not after what he did to them."

"What ha-"

"We don't have time for this." I looked at Preston. "How long can you stall him?"

"Wha- why?"

"I need to clear the forest behind us; the longer you keep him talking, the less time you'll have to hold off whoever comes across the river before I can assist."

"Wait." Nate looked from me to Preston and back. "You're going to fight them? 25 bandits against the 10 of us?"

Those odds are a lot better than what I normally work with.

"We don't have a choice."

"I'M RUNNING OUT OF PATIENCE. YOU GOT ANOTHER 30 SECONDS."

"Spread out, two guns per house, stay in each other's line of sight, pick your shots and stay safe. Preston, I need you to stall him as long as you can, it's going to take me a few minutes to clear the forest."

"I-" the Minuteman cut off whatever he was about to say; if trends were anything to go by, it was some sort of objection. "Okay."

"When it goes hot, don't try anything stupid, get back here and wait."

"Right." He set off toward the front of the housing development. As he did, I broke off and headed up into the hills behind Sanctuary. I didn't have high hopes for this fight if these Raiders were from the same group as had attacked them in Concord; they wouldn't have much to offer in an engagement like this short of target practice. Oh well, might as well worry about keeping everyone alive then.

"What do you want?" Preston must have reached the front of the small 'town'.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT? I'D LIKE TO SEE WHO I'M TALKING TO."

My path led me into the dense forest to the east of the Vault. While most of the trees were bare and looked dead, there were enough of them and accompanying, equally as sickly looking brush to create tight sightlines and make it easy to find good cover. As much as I wanted to take the initiative and make contact first, if there were any Raiders here they'd fire as soon as they saw me. I'd have to do a little passive recon.

"I'm not coming out with that many guns pointed at me."

I crouched behind a thicket of sickly looking trees and switched my HUD to NV and began scanning the hillside.

"I'LL HAVE TO INSIST."

It only took a few seconds to spot my first target: he was a smaller man dressed in the same mashup of leather and rusted steel plates. His attempt at sneaking through the forest was… laughable. It more or less consisted of him slowly walking, crouched, weaving between the tightly packed trees, staring at his feet trying to avoid any fallen sticks or the occasional group of leaves.

"You aren't sure what's going to happen if you attack. That's the only reason we're talking, so why don't we talk about what you want."

Two more were flanking him to the right at a half dozen meters employing the same sad attempts at stealth. Another three were trailing them. All of them were armed with the same, dilapidated 'Pipe Rifles' that seemed almost ubiquitous in this assbackwards world.

"AWFULLY BALLSY OF YOU TO MAKE DEMANDS WHEN YOU'RE SURROUNDED."

I let out an involuntary sigh. This was even more disappointing than I'd originally thought.

"I got a good set on me."

There were two more trailing far behind the first group- those two were different. They were both wearing something that actually looked like hard body armor. It was bulky and thick, but it seemed purpose built. Excitement wormed its way into the back of my head when I studied them a moment longer: one was cradling what appeared to be a large caliber bolt action rifle. The other had the same .308 rifle I'd scavenged off one in Concord.

A laugh. "I WANT TO DISCUSS YOUR LITTLE ARMORED FRIEND WHO MY SCOUTS SAID TOOK OUT MOST OF THE BOYS I SENT AFTER YOU."

The smaller rifle was fine, but that large caliber sniper rifle... that had me interested.

"What about him?"

I watched the group slowly pace forward for a few seconds.

"WHO IS HE?"

They weren't scanning their surroundings at all, did they think no one would come up here to head them off? How the hell are these people a threat to anyone?

"A good samaritan coming to the aid of some innocent people."

After another few seconds' searching, I didn't find anyone else in the vicinity.

"OH COME ON NOW 'MINUTEMAN' DON'T BULLSHIT ME. WHO IS HE?" The leader's voice hardened as he asked.

Might as well get this over with.

"What do you want with him?"

I slipped out from behind the small thicket of trees, skirting toward the Vault to get visual cover before I started circling behind them

"I WANT TO KNOW WHO HE IS, I WANT TO KNOW IF THERE'S ANYONE ELSE OUT HERE WITH HIM, AND I WANT TO KNOW WHERE HE CAME FROM."

Their commander isn't considering the possibility of someone being back here either. He has to know Preston is stalling him.

"He doesn't like talking about himself all that much. All I know is that he left the Brotherhood a few years ago."

I reached a small ravine, slid down into it, carefully avoiding the rock filled bottom, and began gliding toward the Raiders' rear guard.

A short pause. "DON'T LIE TO ME 'MINUTEMAN'. MY MEN TOLD ME HE DIDN'T LOOK LIKE ANYTHING THEY'D SEEN BEFORE."

Keep him talking. I was maybe 20 seconds from getting behind the small group of bandits

"Have they seen Paladins at work? I haven't. They haven't been in the Commonwealth before; any of your men been all the way down to the Capital Wastes?"

With their spacing, it would take 30 seconds to dispatch them if they didn't notice me.

"YOU'RE TRYING AWFULLY HARD TO SELL THAT PITCH 'MINUTEMAN'. IT'S MAKING ME NOT WANT TO BUY."

My legs worked silently to carry me toward my prey.

"That's your choice, I'm just giving you the facts. Why do you need to know who he is if you're just going to kill him anyways?"

In all likelihood, they'd see me, so to play it safe would add another 15 or 20 seconds to that time.

"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HIM?"

So worst case I'd have these Raiders out of the picture in about a minute and a half, another minute to sweep the rest of the hill and 30 seconds back to Sanctuary.

Preston barked a laugh. "Protecting him? If only pal."

Even civilians can manage that right? Against these pathetic excuses for fighters?

"What would you do with us if we did turn him over to you?"

Their footsteps were so loud I could almost tell each of their exact positions. 20 meters to go.

"HAVEN'T MADE UP MY MIND YET."

10 meters.

"That isn't encouraging."

I slowed to a stop, one was nearly directly over me.

"THAT ISN'T MY PROBLEM MINUTEMAN."

My hand slid my knife from its sheath and the muscles in my legs wound tight.

"It is if we decide to fight back."

Time slowed to a crawl as adrenaline teased its way into my bloodstream. I drove my legs into the ground and sprung out of the ravine directly behind the bandit wielding the large caliber rifle.

"IS THAT A THREAT?"

My knife flashed like lightning and embedded itself edge forward up to its hilt in his neck as I clamped my other hand over his mouth. A quick twitch and I ripped the knife out of the front of the Raider's neck, cleanly severing everything forward of his spine.

"It is."

I lowered the body to the ground as the fountain of blood splashed over my right arm and shoulder.

"I THINK WE'RE JUST ABOUT DONE HERE THEN."

That's fine. The other rear guard began turning toward the sound of his companion dying as I buried my knife in his left temple. Unfortunately, the guy must have had his finger on the trigger. As he fell, he reflexively pulled his rifle's trigger and the opening shot of this skirmish flew straight up into the air. I guess it's fitting the shot was fired during the death throes of an incompetent, most likely drug addicted bandit.

The remaining Raiders spun in my direction as gunfire sounded down the hill. I slid back down into the ravine as bullets cracked by overhead. My shields would be able to shrug off small caliber rounds like those, but at this point putting my equipment in danger wasn't smart. I slipped the knife back in its sheath and snatched my pistol off its mag clamp.

I skirted the ravine a dozen meters before popping back up and dropping the two closest targets. Half down.

After repeating the same move once more, the final two Raiders turned and ran. I don't think so. I climbed from the ravine and put a round in the back of each man's head.

Once that group was finished, I did a quick scan of the immediate area before hurrying to the first corpse and liberated it of the bolt action rifle. I had to take a split second to appreciate my find: it was chambered in 12.7 MM with a heavy duty polymer stock and high powered scope. There were 5 rounds in the magazine and 10 more on the body. Not much, but unless I was fighting an APC, I don't think I'll need more.

Rifle slung over my shoulder, I began clearing the rest of the forest. Gunfire in the town picked up as I went and it sounded like the fighting was coming from deeper in the neighborhood. With how thick the area was with dead vegetation, it was another two minutes before I was sure there were no Raiders hiding close by.

As I reached the edge of the hill looking down into the town, it quickly became apparent Preston's estimation was off. I counted a dozen Raiders taking cover around the houses on the south side exchanging fire with the Minuteman's group. On top of that, there were at least 10 more still on the river's bank.

Best option here was a flank; if their basic strategies and inept tactics were anything to go by, their leader would be in that rear group. Circling behind them would let me remove him from the picture and make sure I wiped the rest of the force out.

I hurried to the southeast edge of the hill, directly above the river. After a quick check to make sure my prey was still in the same spot, I slipped down the incline and waded into the water.

The groups' gunfire was a constant metronome, each shot telling me to get a move on. I kept my head just above the waterline and began toward the rear guard.

Trudging through the muddy, rock strewn riverbed was strange. Somehow even the silty, brownish water felt wrong.

Not relevant.

Right.

30 seconds later I rounded the small outcropping on the southeast side of the island and put eyes on my target once again. Four of the Raiders had departed, most likely to assist in the assault. The remaining members of the rear guard were fanned out across the small bank, which was better decision making than I'd seen from them at any other point. Problem was they were all looking into the houses.

If there were any colonies or insurrectionists that had this level of tactical awareness, they were probably wiped out within the first few years of the War.

I took a few extra seconds to close with them; if they weren't looking, no point in taking difficult shots from range with a handgun (I had the sniper, but I wasn't wasting ordinance like that on these assholes).

Once I was within a dozen or so meters, I crept out of the water, took aim at the closest one and put a round through his right ear.

As the opposite side of his skull exploded in a shower of bone and brains, I took aim at the next closest and squeezed off a second round. At that point the others began turning toward me and I charged forward. With three rounds left in the magazine, I had to get a little more personal with the rest.

The first body just hit the rocky riverbank when I reached the third Raider in line. I caught his wide eyed expression, full of shock and fear as I drove my right elbow into the bridge of his nose. His head caved in under the force of the blow and while he was falling to the ground I took aim at another to my right and sent him to join his comrades.

Another was running at me, rifle swinging wildly. Her rounds found the ground at my feet, one went somewhere in the hills behind me, some sprayed water over the dead men behind me, but none managed to hit me.

As she got near, I grabbed the collar of her cobbled together armor and jerked her toward me and at the same time, brought my knee up and slammed it into her chest. Even through the titanium plates on my leg, I felt her ribcage turn to dust. I couldn't see what happened past that, but I know from experience that kind of trauma will turn whatever organs were on the other side into mulch.

The handgun spit out it's final two rounds before the slide locked back and two of the three Raiders tumbled to the ground. The final one, oddly, had his rifle slung across his back and was holding a knife. He was larger than the others, and relatively well built, but even without knowing what I am, he was giving up 10 centimeters and 30 kilograms. And I'm wearing armor. Maybe he was looking for some form of 'honorable fight'; it was something I've read about before.

Not my style.

I slipped my knife from the sheath under my arm and in the next instant it was buried in his neck. The light faded from the final Raider's eyes as I pulled the blade out and he collapsed to the riverbank.

With the rear guard, and most likely their leader, dealt with, I slipped a new magazine into my handgun and began my hunt through the houses for my remaining targets.

As with the rest of the Raiders, these ones had next to no unit cohesion or tactical awareness. They were spread sporadically through the houses, each firing randomly at different positions. Very few noticed me before I put them down and in the end, I tallied 10 more in just a few minutes.

Once I tracked the last one to a house on the southeast edge of town, cowering in one of the rearmost rooms, and ended his threat as well, I began back toward the safehouse. "All clear!"

"All clear", Nate's voice echoed.

"All clear", Preston replied in kind.

A soft wail accompanied the response.

So someone got hit? Wonder who it was. My gaze wandered around the houses as I walked back. Most had been riddled with gunfire from the roof to the sidewalk. These people couldn't shoot either. If one of them was dead, they didn't follow orders; these Raiders barely look like they'd ever seen a rifle.

The crying was coming from the safehouse. I ducked through the entrance and found out why: Jun was lying behind the living room's front window with half his face missing. That- that made no sense. The entry would have to be in the back of his head for that to happen… How had he been shot in the back of the head?

Marcy was sprawled over her husband's body, his blood covering her arms and face. She was muttering quietly to the dead man, caressing what was left of his head.

Her glassy eyes shifted from the body to me as I watched. I'd never seen her face emote much of anything, but now it was full of pain, confusion. Loss. "You son of a bitch. I have nothing left. NOTHING!" The woman stood from her dead husband, hands balled into fists. "You- if it wasn't for you the Raiders would have left us alone! They came here for you!"

Preston stepped forward. "Marcy tha-"

She rounded on him. "It is true! IT IS!"

Without my help you would have died in Concord. I didn't say anything.

As the Minuteman was about to respond, the distraught woman leapt at me. My right arm tensed for a strike, but before my body could move, I pinned my arms in place. She'd just lost the last of her family, the woman wasn't thinking.

That's something I know well.

I let her slam into my chest plate, pounding on it with closed fists like a toddler until Preston and Sturges recovered from their surprise. They rushed forward to pull her away, Preston's eyes wide the whole while. The moment they grabbed her, Marcy went limp, dangling in their arms like a ragdoll as if her muscles had ceased to exist.

"Kyle… Jun… why? Why did you have to leave?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I need you. I need you." The woman looked utterly defeated. Broken. Her world had not only shattered, but taken her along with it.

I uncoiled and now the adrenaline was wearing off, a sharp pain in my left shoulder reminded me it was still healing.

Preston finally detached his eyes from me and turned to Sturges. "Can you watch her for a few minutes?" The solemn faced engineer nodded a silent agreement. "Thanks." The Minuteman began toward me, expression a mixture of relief, sorrow, concern, and anger. "I'd- can we talk outside?" I shrugged and walked back into the early night, closely followed by the other man.

"What happened? I thought you were going to help us after you finished in the hills." Preston's barely controlled voice trembled around the edges. I couldn't tell if it was from adrenaline, anger, or fear.

"I circled around and took out their leader. No point if they come back with more." When I'm not here. "I swept the town after that."

Silence blossomed between us as the Minuteman waited for me to continue, eyes searching for something in my faceplate.

Despite the group still being largely intact, I got the sense Preston was about to go on another one of his tirades.

"Ah." He sucked in a breath through his teeth and held it for a moment.

I'm tired of these 'conversations'. I was about to begin back toward the safe house when the Minuteman looked to the gravel strewn ground at his feet and let out an explosive sigh.

"Are they dead?" He looked back up at me, eyes searching. I nodded. "All of them?"

"Yes."

A procession of fear, gratitude, relief, and desperation slipped across his face. "How many were there?"

Weird question. "30, including the Raiders in the hills."

Preston shuddered. "Wow… that's- holy shit. I guess we owe you our lives. Again."

Genuine gratitude? That's new.

"I did my job."

"Right. Your job." He nodded absentmindedly. "So now what?"

"Treat the wounded, put people on watch for a second attack. Wait until morning and take resources from the dead."

"Okay, I'll put Sturges and Dan on watch. I think something happened to Julian, not serious though."

I nodded and we walked back into the safehouse as the others began congregating in the living room. Each was watching Marcy hold what was left of her husband. She was mumbling, crying, and cursing.

Underneath the sobs I was just able to make out the broken woman crooning her now dead family's names.

"Jun… Kyle… I- you bot-" She choked on a sob. "I need you. Please -please don't leave me. Please don't leave me al- alone."

It was at that moment the realization dawned on me; that pain I felt when the group was gathered around the man who died when we first got here. I could place it in the days, weeks, maybe even months after the Covenant attack. Marcy was the image of that agony of loss. As I looked around at the remaining members of the group, each of them, including Nate, looked on with the expression that said they knew exactly what she was going through.

Oddly, the emotion that passed through my mind, if only fleetingly, was something akin to comfort.

After a moment of watching the group indulge in Marcy's grieving I looked to Julian who had his right arm over Alexandra's shoulders. Blood was dripping from the hem of his left leg. It didn't take long to find the wound: a small hole on the outside of his left thigh right over his knee. It was close enough to the edge it could almost be called a graze.

As Alexandra helped her son to the kitchen counter, Preston turned to the remaining two men.

"Can you guys take watch, we'll deal with this."

Dan opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to get something out, but no words came. Eventually he took a deep breath and nodded. Sturges gave one more look at Marcy before abruptly whirling toward the door and marched outside without a word.

I followed the engineer into the cooling night. He stopped in the middle of the street, fist tight around his handgun's grip. I couldn't see his face, but it wasn't a stretch to imagine his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. Dan stopped beside me, just as stiff. A twinge of empathy teased at the back of my mind, but a much larger part of it told me standing here without having eyes on the perimeter was a great way to get shot.

"I'll take the forest, Dan watch the southeastern bank, Sturges on the bridge."

Both men hesitated. "You can't give us a sec", Sturges asked, still staring at the ground between his feet.

"If we get caught off guard more will die."

Their stiff body language screamed 'argument', but they knew I was right.

Sturges was the first one to relent. "Fine." He never looked toward me before stomping toward the bridge, and a moment later, Dan began trudging to the southeast side of town.

I walked to the path leading into the hills above Sanctuary.

Should I have given them a few minutes?

What happens if more Raiders are around?

Are they going to be useful sentries with the state of mind they're in?

They can still act as early warning. They'll have time to mourn once we're sure the danger is gone.

Maybe…

I spent the rest of the night patrolling Sanctuary's northern perimeter. If Preston's estimation was reasonably accurate, we wouldn't have anything else to worry about, but it paid to be safe. He did underestimate their numbers.

At least it let me marvel at the unobstructed night sky.

It brought back memories of countless hours of torturous training with the rest of Gamma as well as on my own once I was split off.

Mendez and later Katrina both made a point of using 'real life' simulation training which meant multiple days in a maddening variety of environments from frozen hellscapes to burning deserts. The one constant between all of them was the sky: the thin layer of atmosphere that gave way to an unending expanse of space, stars, and galaxies staring back at me every time I looked up into their depths. Even now, it was awe-inspiring.

Now though… now I felt isolated. In my reality, we had colonized countless planets and most of my down time was spent up there, floating among the stars. I couldn't do that now; I was stuck with my feet planted on this dead version of humanity's home world without any way to return. Not one I know of.

No matter what I did, my thoughts always wandered back to that, not how to get back or who might want/need me back, but that I'm here in the first place. It seemed… odd.

I found myself back at the ravine standing over the Raiders I'd killed as the sun broke the east horizon. It dyed everything an appropriately bloody red.

It still didn't make any sense; why would their tactics be so poor? Even someone with rudimentary knowledge of combat would have put up a better fight.

Curiosity got the better of me; the Raiders in Concord had various drugs on them, so if these guys did too, it was possible their cognitive functions were impared. I rummaged through a few of the dead men's satchels. It didn't take long to find more aerosol dispensers and syringes. Even if they weren't inebriated while they were fighting, the amount they had on them leads me to believe they were regular users. With tactics as poor as theirs, Raiders would most likely only pose a threat to smaller settlements like this one.

The all too familiar sensation of being watch tingled at the back of my head. I turned to the slope leading back down to Sanctuary to see Nate walking toward me through the dead forest, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The man looked exhausted.

"Good morning. Get any sleep?" I shook my head. "Is that another one of your superpowers? Don't need to rest?"

More sarcasm? "No."

"Is that no, you don't need to rest, or no it isn't one of your superpowers?" The ex-soldier's eyes were locked on me with a fixation that only came from someone desperately trying to ignore something else. I looked at the group of bodies around me.

"I'll leave that up to you."

A smile split the approaching man's face. "I knew there was at least a little humor in there!" He stopped at the edge of the crowd of dead. The ex-soldier's tenuous grin faltered as he looked at the remnants of the Raider gang. Silence bloomed once again as he studied the results of my one sided fight.

Nate's expression told me he didn't know how to feel about what he was seeing. "This is pretty… terrifying you know? These guys, the ones down in town… that's a lot of people." I shrugged. I've never taken the time to consider what I do from someone else's perspective. "You said this was normal for you?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "We could have used you." His eyes found my faceplate again. "What was your war like?"

That was a loaded question; what was the Human Covenant war like or what was my war like? Mine carried me far past fighting the Covenant, hell I probably spent as much time fighting other humans as I did aliens before the war ended. My war was covert operations, strategic strikes, and high level assassinations. What ends those operations were moving toward… that wasn't my job to worry about.

"Humanity was fighting against the Covenant, a conglomerate of alien races that decided we were an affront to their religion." Images of the attack on my home flashed through my mind again.

"So… the Covenant were attack-"

"They were exterminating us."

Nate seemed to shrink. "Did you win?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Eventually."

A question found its way onto the man's face, but I could see his internal struggle with it. Once he did begin asking, the words snuck out, as if they were afraid to be heard. "Your family, they died during the war. That's why you didn't answer yesterday, right?"

More images. More shouting, more shooting, running, crying. Staring at the ground between my feet while I ran. Shoes, legs, shorts, shirt, stomach, hands, arms, chest. All covered in blood. Someone came up behind me, grabbed me around the waist and kept running. I didn't know where they were going. I hung there, limp as a doll while they took me somewhere. Anywhere.

"They died when I was young", I managed to bite out.

"Is that why you enlisted?"

You could say that. "Yes."

"I'm so-"

An apology? No. I don't need- I don't want someone feeling sorry for me. My life is what it is; doesn't matter what I or anyone else want or how I feel about it.

"No. I don't need your pity."

He shot me a confused, concerned expression but held up his hands. "Okay, I understand."

No you don't.

The smell of burning flesh and the sound of screams was so strong it was almost tangible.

What happened?

I have to shut this out, pack it back away. This isn't important to the mission.

The ex-soldier decided to change the subject, something I was more than happy to oblige. "You plan on leaving in the next few days?" I nodded. "I'm not asking for a babysitter, but I couldn't have done…" he looked at the Raiders again, "this. I'd like to get to Diamond City in one piece, maybe I can get someone else to help me out there but I think I'll need help getting there if yesterday was anything to go by."

The thoughts and memories continued pounding away at my concentration, but this wasn't the time to deal with them. I continued shoving them as far away as my mind would allow. "What happened to finding another option?"

His expression asked 'do I look stupid?' "I might be able to, eventually, but you're the most readily available and probably the most likely to succeed. I need my son back. He's-" The smaller man's voice broke and he tore his gaze away from mine. It took a moment, Nate looking anywhere except me, the tentative silence that once again blanketed the field of corpses ready to flee at a moment's notice. He took a deep breath and looked back up at me. "He's all I've got left. Everything else is gone. Everything. I know you can relate to that."

And there they were, the history I'd struggle for so long to put away, battering at my conscience once again.

God dammit. Now is not the time for this. Why do you keep bringing my past up? What right do you have to talk about it?

"No. You don't." I allowed irritation to seep into my voice. "Stop talking about it."

A strange mixture of emotions played out across the ex-soldier's face. Fear, confusion, anger, sadness, and several others fought for dominance over his features, none truly succeeding. "Right, sor- I'm not trying to pry. I just want my son back."

"I'll consider it."

Perhaps both sensing I was finished with the conversation as well as wanting to put as much space between himself and an upset SPARTAN as he could, Nate turned without another word and walked back toward Sanctuary. My eyes returned to the collection of dead around me. Being around enemies, regardless of their state, was easier. Conversations were short and generally limited to guns, knives, and blows. I was a master of those languages; I've won most arguments so far. The only constant between 'allies': they ask too many questions.

The early afternoon sun was shrouded by a mass of sickly looking clouds casting a brownish green haze over everything. I was sitting in the safe house's living room with several of the scavenged rifles lying disassembled in front of me. Most weapons the raiders had brought along were the cobbled together 'Pipe' weapons as everyone kept calling them. Those were about as crude as they could be while still working. I guess that fits their owners rather well.

Some were genuine, mass produced firearms; those were the ones I was working with. The group had collected about 15 in total, ranging from 10mm handguns to a 5.56mm assault rifle. I'd stripped each down and checked for damaged components. Most had one or two things that were either degraded too far to be safe or close to it. The worst one had been one of the 7.62mm bolt action rifles that had at some point broken or lost a firing pin. Someone made another with a bundle of wire. It floated freely in the bolt and went from either not contacting the round's primer when fired, to getting caught in the forward position and contacting it as the bolt closed. Accidental discharges were never a good thing.

The last weapon in front of me was the automatic rifle. It was a piston driven, magazine fed select fire rifle with a 450mm barrel, wooden handguard, and full wooden stock. The wood furniture was strange, but it was well maintained and seemed to be in good condition. I memorized where each component went as I slowly reassembled it.

Once I'd stripped each scavenged weapon and reassembled them with functional components, I was left with a a couple Pipe Rifles, three 7.62mm bolt action rifles, one of them with a low power scope, two semi-automatic rifles, two double barrel shotguns, two 10mm handguns, the assault rifle, the high caliber sniper rifle, and enough spare components to keep them running for a while. These guys also came with a massive amount of ammo.

If Sanctuary fell, it wouldn't be for lack of armament.

With the weapons stowed in one of the bedrooms alongside close to 1000 rounds of assorted ammunition, I headed across the street to the carport where Sturges, Alexandra, Julian, Murphy, and Dan were sitting. No conversation passed between them, but the atmosphere around the group had a tinge of relief, maybe even elation. Whatever it was, they didn't have the same somber expressions from the last week, the five of them almost looked happy.

Alexandra was sitting on the far side next to a work bench of some sort. Her head turned toward me the best it could. "Get enough sleep soldier boy?"

I nodded. "The rear bedroom is stocked with what weapons I could salvage from their armament. Should have enough spare parts to last you a while."

"That sounds like the beginning of a goodbye."

"Yes. I'll be leaving tomorrow."

Sturges cleared his throat. "You think we're all set to defend against another attack that large?"

I don't have enough patience to prepare you for that. "No but the risk of that happening again is fairly low, correct?"

His head inclined. "Yeah." A small smile spread across his face. "Sorry, maybe I'm just getting used to having you here. You do tend to make things easier, you know."

That's why ONI kept me around. That's why you kept me around.

"Are you taking Nate with you?" Alexandra wore a similar expression as when I'd left her in Concord.

"Haven't decided."

"Well what's holding you up?"

What he reminds me of. "Added time and risk."

She grunted. "Can I give you some advice?" I shrugged. "You suck with people. Take him or you'll never get anywhere."

Well… not what I expected. A short laugh escaped; never seen anyone outside of other SPARTANs talk to one like that.

Sturges was the first to recover. "We managed to squeeze a laugh out of you after all." The smile he wore could only be described as a 'shit eating grin'.

The youngest of the group decided it was time to add his voice. "Now we just need to get him to take his helmet off."

"Good luck."

Sturges feigned surprise. "Was… was that a joke?"

He and Alexandra shared a glance. "I think it was. He's starting to like us."

A small smile crept across my face. I don't know about 'like' but they aren't bad for civilians.

An idea slowly snuck into my head, like it might be banished from existence if it made itself known. What if they aren't just using me?

What were they offering in return for being saved?

It may be as simple as caring.

Caring? I don't know about that; the world hasn't seemed to care thus far.

Well this isn't the same world.

The thought brought on a strange, warm feeling I couldn't place, but it was… nice.

Some of the levity left and Alexandra fixed me in a more serious gaze once again. "You've probably noticed people around here don't do too well with threats. Doesn't matter how big and scary you are, most will shoot first, and you won't come across many who need saving like we did, especially if they're in Diamond City."

That's something I've already noticed, but coercion is my only tool for handling uncooperative parties. "And if he doesn't agree?"

"You should take him anyway. The guy's looking for his son." She cast a brief glance at Julian. "Don't know if there's anything else that needs to be said. Go talk to him first, he seems to like you for some reason, he'll probably help."

While the concept made sense, it was hard to get by the ex-soldier's constant questioning of my past. And as he asks about it, I can't help but see more and more scenes from the Covenant attack. Aren't I supposed to be able to separate emotions from the mission? I've never had to deal with a situation like this before. My handlers already knew my past, and I rarely had team members to worry about.

What if this turns out to be beneficial?

I stared at the question in my mind for what felt like an eternity. Beneficial? What good would remembering more about my family being killed, my home being destroyed do me? My mind didn't elect to answer the question. Besides, if the only objection is 'it may dredge up nightmares' get over it; he may expedite returning to the UNSC, if that requires an escort, so be it.

Standing here arguing with myself wasn't going to get me anywhere. I haven't spoken to him on the matter anyway so it may be a moot point. "I'll ask."

With little else to do the rest of the day, I occupied myself by cleaning my weapons, and gathering supplies in one of the many satchels I'd pulled from the dead attackers. By mid-afternoon, most of the group was back at work either rigging up more reinforcements or drilling with their new supply of weapons. They'd taken most of what I'd taught them to heart; it was gratifying to see. Last night's attack probably had something to do with it.

I pulled Nate aside after they'd eaten dinner. He was walking out from under the carport that had become the primary communal area as they finished.

"I'd like to talk."

The ex-soldier studied me, his stiff back betraying the apprehension. "About?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, if you're tagging along we need to come to an understanding."

His eyes widened. "You'll take me?"

I shook my head. "I'm open to the idea, but I'm not doing it for free. You're better with people than me, I'd like your help getting in touch with The Institute or The Brotherhood."

"I don't mean to be rude", he replied through a smile, "but a rock has better people skills than you my friend."

You don't need people skills when you spend most of your time around people you've killed or are about to kill. "They skipped that part in my training. So what's your answer?"

The frown that spread across his face told me the response before he voiced it. "It depends on what that would entail. My primary objective is to get Shaun back; the faster I do that the better." A sheepish expression slowly worked its way onto his face as he paused. "For multiple reasons. If what you said about cryogenics is true, I have no way of knowing how long I was out. I don't think it was too long since my-" he choked on the next word and stopped to take a long, ragged breath, "my wife wasn't decomposed, but who knows anymore?"

"I need someone who knows about The Institute: where they are, what they do, how I can contact them."

"And you expect me to know any of that?" The incredulity in his voice was only matched by his expression.

I shook my head. "Help me find someone who would."

With Diamond City being the 'largest' settlement around here, that would be the best opportunity to find a lead, but his doubt was well founded; even as I said it I knew the odds were slim.

Nate nodded. "Okay. I can't promise I'll get you an answer", he adopted a wry smile, "but I guess that goes both ways." I cocked my head. "Are you going to guarantee I'll get to Diamond City alive?"

"No."

"Then I guess we'll both have to do the best we can."

It may not have been the most conventional, but at least it was an agreement. "We're leaving at 0600 tomorrow. There are weapons in the back bedroom of the safehouse, I'll speak with Preston about supplies." The ex-soldier's face twisted into a strange grimace. "There a problem?"

"That room-" he shook his head. "No, I'll be ready."

I nodded before leaving to find the patrolling Minuteman.

Preston was on his way back across the bridge when I spotted him. The others had cleared the bodies while I'd slept; not much of the fight remained outside of the blood stains. "Nate and I are leaving tomorrow morning, can you spare us any supplies?"

The smaller man stopped and squinted at me. "You're heading out? Just when I was beginning to like you?" I shrugged. He smirked and shook his head. "How much do the two of you need?"

"At least a few days' provisions."

"We have three weeks worth for the group so a few days for two people shouldn't be a problem. I'll get Julian and Mama Murphy to set you two up. I'd guess you'll be taking some guns too?"

I nodded. "The large caliber sniper rifle, the automatic rifle, a handgun, and ammunition. I don't know what Nate is taking."

"Well", the Minuteman glanced over his shoulder at where the bodies had been, "I'm thinking we won't have any issues with weapons." His eyes returned to me, expression sober. "Do you think we'll survive?"

The question caught me off guard. Will they survive? In a climate like this, eventually they'll be killed by something; Raiders, Gunners (the mercenary group who had run them out of Quincy apparently), one of the dangers brought on by the nuclear war like mutated animals or rad storms, or even disease. If they wanted to survive, they'd need more people, supplies, and skills.

"For now. Long term, you need more people and the infrastructure to support them."

Preston nodded sadly. "That's what the Minutemen tried to do: bring people under a common banner to fight for survival." He scoffed. "Now look, I'm the last one and barely holding on at that."

I couldn't relate; until recently, I hadn't had anyone else to rely on, no one else to rely on me. I completed my mission and moved on. But there was one similarity. The look in his eyes was one I'd seen from countless UNSC personnel: the knowledge that there were no more lines to fall back to, no more reinforcements to come bail you out. If you fail, everything you've fought for is gone.

Even without the Covenant humanity is facing the same problems here. "Use Sanctuary as a base to expand. If there are other small settlements, combine efforts and centralize."

"Rebuild the Minutemen?"

I shook my head. "Build your own livable conditions. If that turns into a militia so be it."

"You haven't had to do this before." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't an accusation either.

"I've seen enough smaller communities to know what works and what doesn't."

His expression asked the question even before he gave it voice. "Where?"

"On missions."

"Wha- right." The Minuteman stared at me for a moment, clearly contemplating what version of 'not your business' I'd give him if he asked more. In the end he sighed. "Let's go get some supplies put together."

By evening's end, we had two satchels packed with enough food and water for almost a week. It was an assortment of boxed 'Salisbury Steak', macaroni and cheese, 'Pork 'n Beans', and several cooked items. I smiled while sorting through the contents of our kit; it certainly wasn't MRE's or any semblance of standard supplies. Sturges also gave me a bundle filled with used bottle caps.

"There's 150 caps in that. Don't pay more than 10 for a meal. I doubt you'll need to buy guns, ammo, or anything to repair them with what you're bringing, but if you do make sure you go to a large vendor, they'll have set prices. Might be a bit high compared to what you can barter but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess you didn't do much of that." I shook my head. He smiled. "You'll be fine."

"And if we run out?"

"There are odd jobs you can do, people who can kill other people while keeping someone else from dying are always high demand." He looked me over. "You could probably charge whatever you wanted. You can sell supplies you scavenge off your… victims if you come across another band of Raiders."

As… unsavory as taking on what would essentially be mercenary work was, I would most likely have to with how little seemed to be known about The Institute. I had no idea how long it might take to make contact, or how long it would take to convince them to help.

"Understood."

The next morning Nate and I were walking across the bridge as the sun rose over the eastern horizon once again. Nate has laid out the general route we would be taking on the bulky 'Pipboy' he had on his wrist; as much as I didn't want to stick to roads, the risks of traveling through what was left of the wilderness were probably worse.

The ex-soldier didn't say anything as he walked beside me. His attention was on our surroundings but, unlike mine, it was most likely on how it had changed since he'd been put on ice. The pockmarked road was lined with rusted hulks that had once been cars, the occasional storefront or house, and a lot of barren wasteland.

Part of me wondered what this place looked like before the war; what he was comparing this brown expanse of post nuclear war desert to. The cognitive dissonance must have been jarring.

I was almost hoping we would encounter one of the more tangible, non-radiation related threats. The Raiders hadn't been a real challenge, but maybe the Gunners or even one of the supposedly dangerous mutated animals that were supposed to roam the area would give me a better fight.

The sun was approaching its peak the first time Nate spoke. He had been struggling for the past hour or so, but I got the sense he wouldn't admit it until he had no other choice.

"I could use five."

The only real cover within a few hundred meters was a dilapidated structure on the right side of the road that had a large cover over it and a portion of the surrounding lot. The rest of our immediate area was more of the same: collapsed buildings, the occasional vegetation, and a lot of dead land. "Okay."

It wasn't likely someone would be occupying such an isolated building, but it was impossible to be sure. I kept myself between Nate and our temporary destination, rifle aimed through the broken front windows. As we neared, something shuffled in the back.

So there is someone here.

I motioned for the ex-soldier to stay close and crept up to the near side of the building. Who or whatever was inside hadn't moved again.

I glanced inside to see a long counter set at the back of an interior too small for the exterior size, so there must have been a back room. The noise hadn't been muffled so it came from behind the counter.

After several seconds of waiting, I silently stole through the blown out windows, carefully avoiding the broken glass.

Still no movement.

Three more paces and I was ready to round the counter's entrance.

I paused at the edge, counted off three heartbeats, and sprung around the divider.

It only took a split second to identify the source of the sound, but my mind took several moments to process it. A… dog was lying in the back corner, head resting on its paws, facing me, eyes closed. It looked strikingly similar to many of the dogs Innies threw at me.

A handful of seconds passed before it's eyes drifted open and as it realized I was standing there it let out a high pitched barking yelp.

The animal sprung to its feet and I slipped my finger onto the rifle's trigger. Oddly, the dog didn't lunge for me; every one of these I'd seen insurrectionists use attacked anyone besides them on sight. This one pressed itself further into the corner, ears flat against its head, fangs bared, and let out a low growl.

Broken glass crunched and I glanced up to see a confused looking Nate picking his way through the front of the building.

"Is that a dog?"

I looked back at the terrified animal and nodded. The smaller man walked around me and knelt at the counter's entrance.

"Hey buddy", he cooed, "what are you doing out here?"

He rustled through his satchel for a moment and pulled out a box labeled 'Salisbury Steak'.

"You hungry?" The ex-soldier peeled the package open and offered it to the dog. The only response he got was another growl.

"Back up some, give it a little space."

I looked down at him and after a moment he returned the gaze. "Oh come on, the poor thing is scared."

Are you trying to pick up strays? Whatever. I backed away from the counter, careful to keep the dog in my sights. Nate placed the box on the ground and followed suit.

"There you go bud. We aren't going to hurt you."

The dog's nose twitched as it sniffed at the food, but it kept its fangs bared and didn't budge.

"Can you give me a few minutes?"

"We don't need to bring a dog."

"Could you just give me some time? We're taking a break aren't we?"

"We don't need to bring a dog", I repeated slowly.

The smaller man shot me an exasperated look. "A dog can be helpful, especially if it's survived out here alone; it can raise the alarm if anything happens." He looked back at the cowering animal. "Plus, it looks like it could use some food."

That's… actually a pretty good argument. Dogs had sniffed me out more than once; they could be incredibly useful. The problem was Nate wouldn't use the dog like that.

"You're willing to use it like that?"

"We had canine units when I served; they saved me more than once."

"That isn't what I asked."

He sighed. "Yes."

I cocked my head.

After a few seconds, the ex-soldier relented. "Okay, yeah and I want a dog. No offense, but it would be nice to have someone else to spend time around besides a walking tin can who is about as good at conversation as one."

Dogs can't talk, and they aren't people.

"Besides, it isn't like you're my CO; if I want to bring the dog, I'm going to bring the fucking dog."

… This is one of the reasons I avoid talking with people. Whatever his actual reasons were, this dog would be acclimated to the environment and could respond to something I might not find noteworthy. That alone was reason enough to bring it along; the only issue was Nate getting attached to the thing might complicate the situation if it is hurt or killed.

Guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

"I'll clear the area."

A flicker of surprise crossed the smaller man's face. "Really? That was fast."

I shrugged. "I'll use whatever I can." I left the rest unsaid, but his quick grimace said knew what I meant.

"Okay then…" He went back to looking at the cowering dog and I slipped back out into the lot.

While Nate murmured to his new friend, I cleared the building's back area, and took a moment to eat and drink. 10 minutes later I re-entered the front of the building to see the dog sitting next to Nate, eating another steak from his hand.

"Didn't think I'd see a German Shepard after the apocalypse."

German Shepard? Is that what type of dog that is?

"It's a he, and he looks pretty young and healthy. I think his owner must have died recently, or he got lost."

None of that information was useful. "Are you ready to move?"

The smaller man shook his head. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Yes."

"Just making sure." He turned back to the dog and scratched behind one of its ears. "How about it bud, you want to come with us?" The dog's head cocked to the side as it looked at Nate. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

The ex-soldier climbed to his feet and the dog followed suit. He took a moment to sniff at me before I turned to leave the building.

Our trek's monotony saw the sun begin its journey downward. We neared the area he'd designated as 'Cambridge' as it started sliding behind the horizon. I wanted to find a way around the relatively dense area, but from what I saw on the map, that would add several kilometers to the journey.

Buildings became less sporadic, and the occasional tree turned into a consistent foliage and brown shrubbery. As the sun disappeared from view we found ourselves at the edge of a small town.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say you don't want to settle in town for the night."

I glanced down at the man who was scratching behind the ears of his new pet. "No."

"Well-" Just as the smaller man began talking, the odd report of a laser rifle sounded somewhere near the center of the small town.

My head snapped back to the collection of buildings in front of us, and I slipped into the shadow of the nearest building. For his part, Nate scrambled for his rifle and followed suit with the dog hurrying behind.

"What about now?"

Part of me knew I shouldn't engage, find somewhere secure well away from the fighting and let Nate rest. The rest of me wanted to figure out what kind of fight was happening in the middle of an abandoned town. This laser fire wasn't the slow, sporadic shots like the ones from Preston's 'Laser Musket'; they were quick and consistent which meant whoever it was had a functional laser weapon.

That interested me.

You won't be sleeping yet.

"We clear that and make sure we have a secure position for the night."

He nodded. "That sounded like it was coming from the center of town; that's where the Cambridge Police Station is. It mostly served the college."

Police station? If it's intact, that would make a good position for the night.

"How do we get there?"

After a moment's thought, Nate glanced at his Pipboy, then back at me. "We can go four streets straight into town, and the station should be a couple blocks to the left."

I nodded, checked the street for potential enemies, and slipped into the forest of collapsing buildings.

Notes:

So I haven't done a post-chapter author's note before, but I'm thinking about providing a short commentary on important parts of each chapter if anyone is interested in reading the thought processes that went into important characters and events during the writing. Let me know if and I'll see you all next time!

Chapter 5: A Taste of What's to Come

Notes:

Hail all, salutations from the realms of uncanny coincidences and lack of promises kept. This chapter is going up three weeks late because I've also got another major project going on at the moment, and some fuckery happened with that one so it took up most of my time. Anyways, now that we're here, it's time to meet the Brotherhood. This is where things are going to start diverging from the main storyline for Fallout 4. As always, let me know what you think and enjoy!

The gunfire didn't slow as we neared the police station, but it sounded one sided. Were they being attacked by animals? I wracked my mind for the information Sturges had given me on possible wildlife in the area, but it was useless until I had eyes on.

We were approaching a small intersection filled with what had been cars when Nate pounded on my shoulder. "The police station is one block to the right." I nodded and eased my way to the crumbling corner of a building at the edge of the junction. This close, I could make out the pater of countless feet and a multitude of strange snarling sounds past the laser weapons' reports.

I peaked around the decaying building.

Wait- what the hell?

Prefab steel fortifications surrounded the two story concrete block building, and laser fire was spearing out from behind them into a crowd of… people? They were dressed in what could only be defined as 'rags' over emaciated figures with cracking, pockmarked skin. The horrid collection was trying desperately to scramble over the reinforcements, ignoring the heap of dead bodies that had tried to do so previously. Even when one of them received a lance of red light that didn't prove fatal, they continued their assault without regard for the injury. It was difficult to tell with the writhing mass of bodies, but there must have at least been a hundred figures battering the police station.

I retreated from the corner and began scanning the surrounding buildings, streets, and alleys. Were there others?

Nate followed suit. "What's up?" His voice was barely audible over the battle.

"Large group of… people are attacking them."

"People? No guns?"

I shook my head "They're just throwing themselves at the police station."

"What the hell?"

That's what I thought.

Had Sturges told me something about this?

Feral Ghouls.

Humans mutated by extreme exposure to radiation.

That… doesn't seem right.

I didn't know much about radiation sickness, but I'm fairly certain it didn't result in- what had he called them?- radiation zombies. At least the feral ones.

"They're called Feral Ghouls; mutated humans that are basically wild animals."

"That sounds a little too Science Fiction to be real."

"It's what Sturges told me. They attack anything on sight and don't stop until they're dead."

"So… we have to kill them?" The question sounded juvenile.

"If we decide to engage."

"I- should we help? Do you think it's more Raiders? A group like Preston's?"

Laser rifles, prefab emplacements that didn't look weathered enough to be there more than a few weeks. No, my guess would be Brotherhood. Unless there's another group with access to that type of equipment, which would still be of interest even if it was someone else.

"We clear the Ghouls, and play it by ear from there."

As I was about to lower my rifle, a skittering from back up the road caught my attention. The dog noticed it too; his ears flattened and fangs bared as he stared at an alley 30 meters back and across the street. I pointed to my eyes then at the alley and signalled Nate to stay put. If we had enemies behind us we couldn't risk making noise and attracting the attention of that larger group. They were most likely too occupied with their assault on the police station, but it still wasn't worth the chance. I let the rifle dangle on its sling and pulled my knife.

The shuffle sounded again while I drifted noiselessly toward the alley's mouth. It sounded off- metallic. Could one of them be wearing armor? The noise made itself known for a third time as I reached the opening. If it was another group of them, I don't know if I can dispatch them quietly enough to avoid garnering the attention of the horde pounding at the gates of the police station.

Would many of them split off to investigate? If they did, we had more than enough ammo to deal with the threat, but would we be able to before getting overrun? Worse comes to worse, I can outrun the assortment of gaunt attackers, but what if there are more scattered around town? Odds are they would have been attracted to the sounds of the fight like their friends, but it was impossible to tell with something you've never encountered. Dammit, I hate operating without intel.

Oh well, we might just have to employ the old go to: move fast and hit hard. I glanced into the gloom ready to meet a face full of whatever the hell was attacking the police station.

Nothing.

All that occupied the alley was a dumpster that had almost rusted through, and a scattering of rubble.

The sound came again from behind the dumpster.

I stole over to the near side, waited a beat, then burst around the end-

And was greeted with what must have been a large- massive, hairless rat. It was eating some rotting meat when it's eyes flew from its meal up to me. The creature let out a frightened squeak and tore off down the alley.

What the hell.

With a shaking head, I returned to the mouth of the alley and signalled an all clear to Nate. He nodded as I trotted back over.

"What was it?"

"A giant rat."

He adopted a confused expression. "Giant?"

I shrugged, we had more important things to worry about.

"So how do you want to play this?"

From how Preston and Sturges described them, I doubt The Brotherhood would be willing to help; they were more focused on collecting technology than advancing it. Even further, they may decide my armor and even me are worth… procuring. On the other hand, since they are another of the major parties in the area The Brotherhood could have information on The Institute.

What if they're someone else?

They're still a group of interest considering their equipment; making contact with people like that are my best option.

"Eliminate these… things but keep our distance until we know who we're helping."

"Agreed." The ex-soldier snuck a glance toward the ongoing battle and shrugged. "You won't hear this often, but I say we just start shooting." I cocked my head. "50 yards, even at a full sprint will take what- 10 seconds for those things? I doubt many break off, they seem pretty dead set on getting inside the police station."

A straightforward shooting gallery?

"Alright."

With a smirk, he turned and propped his rifle on the broken corner of the building. I moved out into the intersection and crouched behind the burnt out remains of a car.

"I'll work from left to right. On your go", he called.

I sighted on the closest one to us, the thing looked like it had, at one point, been a woman. No hair and the tattered remains of what may have been a dress made it hard to tell. My finger squeezed the trigger and barked out a projectile that slammed into the back of its- her head just below the base of her skull. Nate followed suit and another toppled to the ground.

From then on it was monotonous work: aim, fire, aim, fire, aim, fire, reload. Every so often, one of the decrepit figures turned away from their battle to look for the weapon fire behind it, but I would put it down before we drew any more attention. Two minutes ticked off of my mission clock by the time the last attacker fell. Once it did, I double checked the mound of corpses, and scanned our surroundings for any potential stragglers.

"That was easy." I turned to Nate who was performing similar checks. "Those things were like zombies from old movies my dad used to watch."

I had no idea what he was talking about, nor did I care enough to ask; the difficult part was still to come.

As if reading my own thoughts, a gruff sounding man within the barricade began the proceedings.

"Whoever is out there, come forward with your hands off your weapons."

Nate and I exchanged a glance. "Should you do this or me."

It's why you're here. I nodded at him in return.

He gave me a look that said 'kind of expected that' and shrugged. "I don't think I want to walk toward a heavily armed group without my weapons. Thanks though."

The other guy didn't miss a beat. "What's your business here?"

"We heard your gunfire and wanted to help."

"Who are you with?"

"No one in particular, just passing through."

"You aren't Brotherhood of Steel." It wasn't a question

That answers that question.

"No… Is that a problem?"

"If you aren't Brotherhood, why would you come to our aid?"

I watched the revelation play out across the ex-soldier's face. "We could use some help too." Nate lowered his voice. "Do you think they'll give you anything?" I shrugged. "What do you think they're relationship is with the Institute?"

That was a good question. If The Brotherhood was as dogmatic as everyone had made them sound it probably wasn't good, but what if they had some sort of arrangement?

"What kind of help?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

The smaller man frowned. "We're looking for some… advanced technology, or someone who can help us with it."

"The Brotherhood of Steel isn't in a position to allow access to our advanced programs." The speaker's voice trailed off at the end of his statement.

Looks like Preston wasn't mistaken about them.

"Unless you're looking for The Institute." His voice hardened further as he made the suggestion.

"Well they don't like each other", Nate mumbled. "Only if they'll help us."

"The Institute will not help; their only concern is filling the world with those abominations." The statement was bordering on 'rant'.

I cocked my head as the ex-soldier looked at me. After a moment he offered a shrug.

"Abominations?" It was the other man's turn to pause. Apparently we were supposed to know what he meant.

"Synths." The word shot out with as much vitriol as one could laden a single syllable with. "You don't know what Synths are?"

"We aren't from the area." Another lapse in the conversation made me think this guy wasn't buying it. "Look- that was a pretty serious fight; so you have any casualties? I have first aid training and medical supplies."

Again, the statement was met with silence. His uncertainty was promising; judging from his prior responses he should have shot the offer down outright. They might be worse off than he was letting on.

"What kind of supplies?" I caught the small smile that split Nate's lips.

"Clean cloth, a little alcohol, MedX, and Stimpaks."

I still didn't like this; we don't know how many are inside, what their entire compliment of arms are, or if they're even willing to cooperate. Too many unknowns.

It's a path forward. Gather what information I can and… what was Fourier's saying? 'Butt puckered, head on a swivel'.

"Alright. Approach slow and in the open."

Nate looked at me. "Well?"

"Stay behind me, be ready to disengage if things go south."

He gave a wry smirk. "You'll be my shield? How courageous."

"You're no use dead."

The smaller man chuckled. "Well it's the thought that counts."

I stepped out from behind the former car I'd been using as cover, Nate following suit, and we walked toward the station, him a few paces behind. I caught glimpses of movement behind the fortifications and a small gate slid open next to the pile of corpses. No one moved to confront us. No one watching us from the opening. No guards on the barricades covering our approach. This outfit was operating on a skeleton crew, if that. As we neared the open gate the movement behind the perimeter ceased, but I had no way of telling where any guards may be positioned. We couldn't both walk in; if these Brotherhood members were legitimate soldiers, they were probably set up flanking the entryway. If this was a lure, it would be better to have Nate outside to stay out of the line of fire, or prevent anyone from blocking our exit.

A dozen meters from the barricades, I motioned for Nate to halt. "Take cover out here; we may need a quick exit." He nodded before slipping over to the side of a collapsed building, followed by his new friend, weapon's barrel constantly shifting as he watched for threats.

No more noise came from the police station as I stalked over the intervening space. Every instinct was screaming at me to stop, turn around and leave.

This isn't worth the risk.

What if I can get information from them?

And what if this goes sideways? I lose Nate? I get injured?

Nothing I've seen has been dangerous this far.

It only takes one bad move.

I stopped at the entrance to the station's perimeter and swept back and forth.

Nothing.

So they were either in the building or tucked up against the walls flanking the opening.

Turn around.

I'm here.

Before my mind could offer up more objections, I cleared straight ahead, ducked through the door, pivoted left, and dropped to a kn-

A small woman was standing a few paces away aiming a rifle of some sort at my head. Sh-

Shuffling behind me.

My rifle barked and a round slammed into the short woman's chest. While I dove to the side, I watched the projectile knock her to the ground; she must have had a ballistic plate behind the vest she was wearing.

In the middle of my role, a laser flashed through my vision and smacked into the ground behind me. That was a quick reaction shot. Twisting toward the shot's origin I brought the rifle back up and squeezed off two more rounds, the first crashed into the chest plate, and the second just below a set of thin lenses set in the helmet of someone dressed in the most ungainly armor I'd ever seen.

It's occupant fired again and the blazing red beam seared into my shield. Neither of my shots had much effect. Close the distance. As the rifle he was holding spit out another bolt, I tucked into a roll angled away from him before planting my feet and springing over the intervening half dozen meters. The other soldier was just beginning to move as I slammed into him, both of us tumbling to the ground. Whatever it was, the armor he wore was heavier than Mjolnir. My opponent tried to grab me once we stopped, his hands landed on nothing but air as I scrambled to my feet and aimed my rifle down at his head-

"Stop", a breathless voice shouted from behind me. It had to be the small woman I'd shot; the plate had caught my round, but it probably cracked a rib or two. I kept my sights trained on the soldier under me, he was the bigger threat, but some small piece at the back of my mind kept me from putting a round through the small slit over his right eye.

"Drop your gun."

"No."

"If you're here to help drop your gun or I'll put a hole in the back of your head." She still hadn't gotten her wind back, but the woman was trying her best to keep a steady voice.

An almost silent set of footsteps approached from the direction of the door.

"No."

"Drop it!" She was new.

Nate's stride stopped just outside of the opening. "Let's all slow down, no one should be shooting anyone." His voice was calm and level, with the detached air of someone watching the standoff from a vid screen.

"Who are you?"

I began edging around the downed soldier as he watched me, I never liked having a gun at my back. Nobody does, even in Mjolnir. The woman still had her weapon pointed in my general direction, but she was looking at Nate. The ex-soldier kept her firmly centered in his sights.

"I'm the guy you were just talking to; we aren't here to fight so why don't we all lower our guns."

"Tell that to your friend, he came in shooting, not us."

With a quick glance, the smaller man took in me and the downed soldier I had at gunpoint. "He… tends to act quickly. You're both still alive so let's keep everyone breathing through the same holes okay? I'll go first." Nate slowly held his left hand up and lowered the rifle. "D- Lieutenant?"

Let the soldier up? He's clearly their heavy hitter, it was smarter to keep him down.

Isn't this why I brought Nate? If it turns out to be a bad idea, next time I can pull the trigger.

What if it isn't that easy next time? This is their version of power armor; I caught this guy off guard, he could be a threat in a real fight.

True, but Nate said the people they put in the power armor were regular soldiers, regular soldiers have limitations-

"LT?"

Anything happens, he dies first. I nodded and slowly stepped away from my target. The heavily armored soldier struggled to stand as I did; it was an odd display, flipping onto his stomach, fumbling up to his hands and knees before finally climbing to his feet. This power armor looked much closer to the powered cargo exo's I'd seen Innies convert into heavy weapons platforms than Mjolnir. He looked me up and down, almost eye to eye.

"Who are you?" The tone was less confused, more accusatory, than I'd expect.

Nate took a few tentative steps into the perimeter. "We're just looking for some help."

"You said that and you still attacked us. You almost killed my subordinate."

"You were an unknown."

Ostensibly, the soldier was talking to Nate, but his glare never left me. "Is he your mouthpiece?"

He took getting his ass kicked personally.

To be fair, I did almost kill them.

Nate grunted. "He does the fighting, I do the talking."

"I'd like to hear that from him."

As silence settled over the area once more, Nate and I exchanged a glance. I shrugged. "He's better at it."

"Why didn't you send him in then?"

"I'm better at fighting."

"Weren't you here to help us?"

"Well", Nate grumbled, "we didn't exactly know how you'd react. Better safe than sorry."

"You-"

This conversation was beginning to drag, and the smaller man seemed to feel the same. "Okay, we had a misunderstanding but no one got dead. We-"

"Are you kidding? I got sh-"

"WE aren't going to get anywhere standing here arguing about it. If we have to continue discussing what didn't happen, let's do it inside where we're out of danger and can treat your wounded."

From the look he was giving me, I got the impression the armored soldier wasn't satisfied.

"You aren't getting inside until you tell me who you are."

"I'm-"

"Not you." He nodded at me. "You."

Is he afraid I'm from a competing party? The Enclave and Institute are the others mentioned when people saw me; it was clear he didn't like The Institute. What about The Enclave?

Does it matter? Nothing I can say will satisfy him.

I motioned to Nate. "I'm escorting him to Diamond city."

"Are you saying you're a mercenary? The Gunners don't have access to equipment like yours."

"That isn't what I said."

He shook his head. "I don't like being lied to."

Technically I'm not.

"I didn't. You seem fine without us." I began toward Nate, gaze trained on the soldier.

"Wait." The small woman was glaring at the heavily armored man. "We need help."

Something passed between them before he shook his head. "Not from an unknown par-"

"Rhys is going to die." Her features were a mixture of determination and desperation. "We need supplies. I can't lose anyone else."

Another tenuous silence settled over the four of us as the two Brotherhood members stared each other down. Is it really worth this much trouble? At best I can get intel on The Institute; they're clearly in no position to help me with resources, time, or research. Even that didn't seem likely given their relationship. And if that power armor was the best they could come up with, I doubt even under perfect circumstances they would be able to help me.

"Fine." He motioned at the entrance. "Go make sure Rhys is okay and he doesn't shoot our new… guests. I'll escort them in." The soldier's counterpart nodded and began limping toward the police station holding her chest. After she was inside, he bent down awkwardly and retrieved his laser rifle from where it had fallen. "She's right, we need help, but you're still an unknown entity. Don't expect me to treat you like anything other than a threat."

Nate shot me a loaded glance, I nodded in return. "That goes both ways." He turned and whistled back out into the street, an instant later, the clatter of his new friend running toward us preceded the dog's entrance through the door.

The interior of the police station was in much better condition than any of the other buildings I'd seen to this point. Inside the main entrance was a lobby that had been cleared of the garbage and debris I'd come to expect. At the back was the woman crouched in front of a seated Brotherhood member dressed in an orange and white bodysuit, hand over a wound just above his left hip. The soldier followed us into the lobby, I could feel his weapon aimed at the back of my head.

As soon as I entered the lobby, 'Rhys's' eyes screamed from the woman kneeling over him to me. Nate noted his expression too. "We need to get that dressed. Do you have any saline? Blood packs?"

The small woman turned her head to look at us. "We've got a few blood packs left."

Nate shot me another quick glance before ducking under his rifle's sling and placing it on the ground. His feet carried him toward the two while he began digging through his satchel. "Can I have one?"

"Yeah."

I watched intently as she stood and walked toward an adjacent room. My eyes fell on the man's sidearm. Nate seemed to have noticed it too and carefully shifted toward the Brotherhood member's left side. He pulled out a small bottle, a roll of gauze, and a Stimpak.

"How long ago were you injured?"

"20 minutes."

That's a long time for that kind of wound.

"You're lucky you haven't bled out yet." My charge opened the bottle and poured some of its contents over his hands and then the gauze. The small woman returned with the requested supplies. "Is this universal?" She nodded. "Thanks."

Nate sterilized the needle, worked any air to the top of the bag and handed it back to the woman. "Can you hold this up? Make sure the blood stays at the bottom." A few minutes later he had IV in the man's arm, wound cleaned and dressed, and administered the Stimpak. While that happened, I placed myself in the front corner of the room so I could watch everyone; the armored man still had his rifle trained on me.

"You should be okay, just don't do too much until the wound has had a chance to close."

His patient's eyes hadn't left me. "Thanks."

"I guess I should give you my name at this point; I'm Nate."

"And him?"

The ex-soldier followed Rhys's gaze to me. "Lieutenant?" His voice was tentative, maybe a little worry ringing it's edge, expression sending a silent plea to play along.

What good would giving my name do here?

What harm would it do? If I'm going to go through the trouble of bringing Nate along, I can at least give him the benefit of the doubt for now. He isn't asking me to do anything, really.

"Damon."

A subdued hiss came from the armored soldier as he shifted in place. "Who do you serve with?"

"No one now." It wasn't a lie, there is no UNSC here.

"Then why does he keep calling you by rank?"

"Force of habit", Nate interjected.

"So who did you serve with?"

"A militia in the south around where…" if I had to say from his confusion I'd guess he almost gave a landmark from before the War, but he has no way of knowing if that would give him up. Neither of us know how people refer to areas anymore. "Sorry, I probably shouldn't say where, there are still some of them around."

"And they have advanced technology like this?" The soldier motioned to me.

Nate smiled sheepishly. "Another reason I'm not going to say anything else. Sorry."

"I don't like that answer."

"It's all you're going to get. So what are your names?"

The Brotherhood soldier shifted his attention to Nate and took a step toward him. I sprung forward to block his path. I couldn't see his eyes, but I felt them drilling into my faceplate. I felt a spark of excitement flicker in the back of my mind; this power armor clearly wasn't anything like mine, but it would be the best challenge I've had since coming here. I was half hoping he would start the festivities.

"I'm Scribe Haylen. He's Paladin Danse. We were detached to scout the area a few months ago but…" She was behind me, sitting next to Nate and the wounded soldier, but I could hear the grimace in her voice. "Things haven't been going well. If you hadn't shown up that might have been it for us."

Danse's gaze never left me, but the disappointment was clear from his tone. "Haylen, I don't remember giving you permission to tell them anything about our mission."

"How is saying who we are going to help them, even if they're Institute, or Enclave, or whatever?"

Silence reasserted itself while I stared the 'Paladin' down. If he intended to attack, he was in a horrible position to do so; the armor he was wearing was cumbersome and bulky, I didn't have much room to talk on the size front, but in close quarters like this I'd wager I'm much quicker.

"Fine, but stay away from my men." Danse sidestepped around me and moved toward the group.

Nate stood and backed away from the approaching Brotherhood soldier before retrieving his discarded rifle and walking back to me. I watched the others as my charge approached. Haylen seemed to be willing to cooperate, but with Danse as her superior, I doubt we'll be getting anything useful out of her.

Something tugged on my left forearm and I looked down to see Nate peering back at me. He motioned his head to the far corner of the lobby near the entrance where a small nook was separated from the rest of the room. I nodded and he strode past me. After another once over, both Rhys and Danse were still staring me down, I followed the ex-soldier.

As I entered the small alcove, Nate slid into a sitting position against the wall facing the lobby and laid his rifle across his lap. "We aren't getting anything from them." I stood next to him and turned to the small group before nodding my agreement. "You think it's safe to stay here?"

"We don't know what might be outside at night."

He smiled. "Better the devil you know." I felt Nate's eyes move from me back to Danse. "What did you think of your first taste?"

"Don't know yet, I caught him off guard."

"Their titles scare me: 'Scribe', 'Paladin', that doesn't sound like a military outfit, it sounds like a cult."

"Agreed. We'll stay here tonight, but we're moving out at dawn. Get some food and rest."

"You don't want me to take a watch?"

"I'll be fine."

"Nothing to drink?"

"I've already had plenty?"

"When?"

I looked down at him and the dog lying to his right. "When you were playing with him."

"Suit yourself." Nate dug into his satchel and grabbed a parcel. The dog's ears perked up and he sniffed at the small package. "You want some too? Well at least I'll have someone to share dinner with." He fell silent as he began eating and I shifted my attention to the others who were talking quietly among themselves as well. I turned the gain up on my external microphones; eavesdropping was always a good way to gather information.

"-move like that."

"Not someone his size, and not in armor like his."

"It isn't anything like our power armor, where do you think it came from Danse?"

"I don't know, it doesn't look Institute, and they're more focused on synths than advanced combat gear." The 'Paladin' stole a glance at me. "I think we've got someone else in play here."

"Do you think it's safe to let them stay?"

Haylen rubbed the center of her chest. "Well… he could have killed us-"

"He had no way of knowing you were wearing armor, he tried to kill you."

The small woman grimaced and turned her eyes to me. "Yes but… I don't know Rhys, it wasn't that simple. Danse?"

"He came in firing."

No, I fired after realizing I had two weapons pointed at me.

"You even said it."

"Yes, that was shortly after catching a bullet in the chest. How does helping Rhys benefit them?"

Their conversation died for a moment, each of them taking turns looking between each other and us.

Danse broke the silence first. "It doesn't matter, they leave tomorrow and we figure out how to get to ArcJet."

"Do you think they might help?"

"Even if they would, I wouldn't risk it."

"So you're going to do it alone?"

"We don't have another choice."

"DAMON."

I stifled a wince and turned the audio back to normal levels. "Yes?"

"At least sit down, you're making me feel even more uncomfortable than they are."

Sit down? That isn't a good idea; they may have no intention of engaging us again, but that wasn't an excuse for carelessness. Things have a tendency of changing quickly in unknown situations.

"Finish eating and get some sleep, you'll be fine."

Nate grumbled but didn't say anything else. The rest of the night consisted of my standing guard while the ex-soldier and his new best friend slept… or tried to sleep. The dog had no problems but my charge's breathing never settled into the deep, rhythmic beat of sleep. Guess I can't blame him. Haylen helped Rhys limp into another room while Danse stood by the lobby's exit, glare fixed on me. At one point the Scribe tried to give him food and water, but he just shook his head and sent her back to watch over the other soldier.

I couldn't help but wonder if the 12.7mm rifle on my back would get through that thick chest plate; it had shrugged off the 5.56 without much trouble, but the bolt action rifle was a different story. It looked like steel instead of the titanium Mjolnir used for its hard plate which would explain why it was so heavy. On top of that, it looked like the hands and feet were actually hydraulic or pneumatically controlled extensions, so Danse was probably a regular sized man in the suit.

No soft armor, so it was layered plates at articulation points except for the inside of the elbows which looked like rubber or leather. It wasn't much bulkier than my armor, but the combination of extended limbs, more weight, inferior mechanical design, and a regular person operating it made the setup ungainly and slow. It could take a lot of punishment and probably had good power but I wasn't impressed; lack of maneuverability meant it was a specialized piece of equipment that could only be used in certain situations.

With the sky just beginning to brighten, Nate roused himself from his approximation of sleep and dug back into his bag for something to eat. He yawned while peeling back another wrapper and looked up at me. "You two just have an all night staring match?" I nodded. "You know, something bugged me about yesterday." My gaze shifted down to him. "You weren't trying to kill Haylen were you?"

"What are you asking?"

He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully before continuing. "Well, those raiders the other day, most of the ones I saw you killed with headshots, but you hit Haylen in the chest. Was that on purpose?"

Did I mean to leave her alive? I played the sequence back in my head; the shot had been a few inches high and to the left of her heart, it probably would have missed her lungs too. Why did I do that? I hadn't thought about it at the time, just reacted. Maybe it was because we wanted their cooperation and I'd subconsciously decided that would be easier if they were all alive, maybe not. The development worried me though; hesitating, not killing a target, that was asking to get killed instead.

"I shouldn't have."

"What- you shouldn't have not shot her in the head?" I nodded again. "What the hell kind of logic is that? I don't think they would have been very cooperative if you'd turned it into a canoe."

"They weren't cooperative anyway." And leaving a target alive is dangerous.

"Maybe not, but there was the chance they would be. And… you know… they're people."

Who could have killed us. I'm beginning to think he doesn't have the instincts to survive in a world like this. We're in hostile territory until proven otherwise; best option is to remove any potential threats, that's what I do.

"It doesn't matter now."

He stopped eating. "Uh, it does if that means you're going to shoot everyone we meet from now on."

"If they're a threat."

"Oh great. Look, Damon, I don't know if you get this yet, but I think you can afford to take some liberties the average soldier can't."

"Not how I work."

Nothing came back as Nate looked from me back down to his breakfast. He took another bite and slowly ate in silence for a few moments. What I said clearly bothered him, but that was something he'd have to get used to living in a world that wants to kill him at every turn.

"I think I'm starting to figure out what you do, between that slaughter back in Sanctuary, and your attitude now." He shivered, carefully avoiding my gaze. "You're a sweeper, solo or small team operations clearing out enemy emplacements, assassinating targets, that sort of thing." The ex-soldier finally looked up at me as he finished. "Right?" I cocked my head at him. "You have that air about you is all."

"Some of it."

"What else do you do?"

I exhaled through my nose and looked back at Danse. You have about as much tact as I do. I may not be an expert on the matter, but I'd been debriefed and 'interviewed' enough by my handlers to know how skilled one could be at drawing information out of someone, even if they didn't want to give it up. My style was usually more direct.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Natural curiosity I guess."

"Hmm."

He didn't continue, so I returned my attention to our 'hosts'. More quiet conversation drifted from Rhys and Haylen in the next room.

Danse turned to march through the lobby's exit. "Stay here."

With the Paladin's disappearance from the front room, Nate gathered his supplies and climbed back to his feet. "Can you do me a favor then?" I motioned for him to continue. "If we're in a… questionable situation again, can you let me take lead?"

"Not if it puts either of us in danger."

"I appreciate you care for my wellbeing but I can take care of myself."

He's treating this like a standard deployment, as if there are rules everyone plays by and most of the things he runs into outside of a city, maybe, aren't trying to kill him. This position isn't far removed from how I've spent most of my time fighting, either in the Covenant war or the Innies and Remnants afterward.

"This isn't your world anymore, and it isn't the same war you fought; ROE's have changed."

"So you're just going to kill everyone we meet?"

"If they're a threat."

I expected him to argue, that seemed to be his default, but he let out an explosive sigh instead. "You need to work this whole 'teamwork' thing. Let me do it, at least once. If it doesn't work you can say 'told you so'... and if I die you can tell it to my body."

Would I be able to cover for him when he makes a mistake? I guess it depends on the situation; at the very least it seems like most people in this world are fairly inept combatants, current company possibly notwithstanding. If Nate dies I'll have to figure it out then, finding someone else willing to help might be difficult but not impossible.

"Once."

"Thanks."

A quick check out of the boarded up front windows showed the pinkish brown (of course) glow of the sun closing in on the horizon.

"Looking forward to another day humping it. You know back before all… this", he motioned to the dilapidated room around us, "it would have taken about an hour to get from my house to Fenway." I cocked my head again, leaving the 'and?' unsaid. "I was just making an observation."

Leaden footfalls preceded Danse's reemergence. "It's time for you to take your leave."

"You sure you guys will be alright? It looks like you're in a rough spot, we can help."

We can help? People are beginning to make a habit out of volunteering me for things I haven't agreed to.

"We aren't in a position to accept help from civilians." He almost spat the last word, but I couldn't tell if it was spite for actual civilians, or his way of mocking us.

"We-" I watched out of my periphery as his gaze shifted to me for an instant. "Okay."

Hmmm, that was much less… verbose than I'd come to expect. Was he worried about me? Nate had something on his mind, was he planning something?

"Good." The dismissal was enough for me; I strode to the door and, after making sure it was clear, led the ex-soldier and the dog out into the still brightening sky.

Red streaks gradually turned pink as the sun continued its journey over the horizon while we picked through the dilapidated vehicles, collapsed buildings, and rubble that made up the edges of Boston's metropolitan area. The further we went, the more uncomfortable I got; there were far too many positions to clear, and blind angles to round. Even with most of the taller buildings destroyed, there were more than enough vantage points that would provide any potential sniper with a commanding view. More than once we had to backtrack and find our way around a collapsed structure and blocked road. At least it seemed Nate shared my reservations if his constant fidgeting and darting eyes were anything to go by.

From what Sturges told me, we could start running into Supermutants and Gunners alongside the Raider threat now we were in the city proper. Problem is I have no idea what it would look like. Supermutants were supposedly dumb, oversized cannibals and the Gunners were a pseudo-militant mercenary outfit.

We hadn't encountered any of the mutated wildlife or more Raiders, unless those guys outside of the trade post were, but they didn't seem like it. Maybe the threats were being exaggerated. I almost laughed; this is usually when things go sideways.

"You've been awfully quiet." Nate's voice drew my attention from our surroundings as we passed the entrance to what might have been a bank at one point. "You nervous?"

I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. "I'm watching for threats."

A grunt of disappointment flew my way as I glanced at the smaller man. "We've been traveling for two days now and you've barely said 10 words outside of fighting."

"Because I'm watching for threats."

"Did you use up your entire allotment of humor back in Sanctuary?" I didn't respond and after a few seconds he stopped fishing. "For as hard as this journey was supposed to be, it's quiet."

"Cambridge."

"I wouldn't have gotten involved on my own."

"We still have 10 clicks of urban environment."

"You think we're in for a fight?"

Maybe. "I don't know, which is why I'm watching for threats." What are you trying to do here?

"This is just… it's too- this isn't right. A few days ago being down here would have been normal: people, cars, traffic, noise. Now…" He looked at a partially collapsed building that had blocked one of the side streets. "I still don't know if I've accepted this is really happening."

Your situation is fairly straightforward compared to mine. "That isn't something you have time to worry about now."

"I don't know if I've met someone as socially inept as you." There was an edge to his voice; I probably upset him, but it was the truth, it isn't my fault if he doesn't like it.

I shrugged and continued in silence, he must have been looking for some distraction or a kind word, not finding it the ex-soldier let quiet reign as we made our way through the city ruins.

A gentle tapping caught my attention from above us in one of the dilapidated structures, a tower that must have been largely glass before the war. Now all that was left was a massive steel skeleton and crumbling interior. The noise was from maybe half way up, quiet enough to avoid Nate's attention. It was too irregular to be natural. I stopped and held up a fist.

The smaller man froze. "What is it?"

I waved him to the side of the street opposite the large tower. "Don't know, something may be in that building." I motioned to the once proud structure.

"Maybe we try avoiding a fight this time?" Our gazes met. "We don't know what's up there, and we don't know if fighting it will draw more attention."

What happened to being disappointed with how easy this is? Hadn't I thought the same thing though? Either way he was right; judging from what Sturges had told me it was either more Raiders, which would be boring but at least they were a known quantity, or it could be Supermutants. I was eager to fight one of them but without the ability to scout ahead, strategize, and the potential for unexpected events, there were too many unknowns to justify it. I nodded and scanned for an exit.

"This way." The smaller man motioned toward an alley a couple dozen meters ahead. I followed him down the rubble strewn street, avoiding as much crumbled building and gravel as I could.

As we neared the passage a tingling sprung up on the back of my neck.

"HEEEEEEEEEY!" The voice was odd: deep and nasally with a strange quality I couldn't place.

I was just about to turn back to the building when the first round cracked by my left shoulder. As the report reached us, I lunged forward, grabbed Nate by the back of his jacket and half shoved, half carried him as I ran toward the alley, shielding him from the incoming projectiles. The staccato gunfire of several automatic rifles tore through the dilapidated city and my shields caught a half dozen rounds before I shoved the smaller man into the cover of the alley and dove in after him.

My sights were on the alley entrance as Nate, who had stumbled to the rubble covered ground, found his feet again. "What the fuck just happened?" More rounds peppered the opening back out into the street. "Who is shooting at us?"

If I had to guess… "Supermutants. That was most likely the sound I heard." We need to go.

"We should get moving then, that gunfire is going to draw the attention of everyone around here."

He turned and jogged down the alley toward the next street, rifle at the ready. A few seconds later he called, "all clear."

I backed down the passage toward him, sights still trained on the entrance as the incoming fire slowly dwindled.

"Watch for mines or IED." The smaller man nodded and we made our way into the next street. I took point as we half jogged down the street. There were just too many damn spots for more Supermutants to be taking cover. Countless broken windows, destroyed walls, blind corners, deep shadows cast by the towering structures (or what's left of them) on all sides. It was impossible to clear them all, so we stuck close to one side of the street and moved quickly.

After several minutes of silent apprehension, I heard Nate take a ragged breath. He may have been ex-military, but he'd been out for over a year and put on ice for another 200. We had covered around 20 klicks, had two gunfights, and now we're running from gunfire. As much as I wanted to keep moving, the safer move was to give him my charge a breather.

I pulled up next to a relatively intact building and scanned the interior through the entrance. It looked like a lobby for some sort of office building with what had been chairs at one point scattered around the remains of a large desk in the room's center. Nothing made itself immediately apparent; the scattered debris was undisturbed, and a thick layer of dust covered everything.

"In here."

Nate looked at me then to the building's interior. I half expected an objection, but he climbed through the broken entrance without a word and looked around before settling into the far corner while his new friend paced around sniffing everything it could.

"That was exciting. What did I say about 'easy'? You said that was… 'Supermutants'? Who are they?"

With one more glance around for good measure I stepped through the shattered windows that had been the building's front. "Possibly. According to Sturges they are mutated humans."

"Wha- what does that mean?"

"They're big, strong, and hard to kill, but apparently not intelligent."

"Is that what that 'HEEEY' was?" I nodded. "Who announces themselves before an attack?"

The Raiders did it too, so if I'm lucky, everyone in this ass backwards world. I can always dream.

After a ten minute break I led the duo back into the street and continued toward our objective. The sun climbed further into the sky as we carefully picked our way through the minefield of potential enemies. After the brush with the Supermutants I wasn't going to take any chances; we used side roads, stuck to cover, and carefully avoided any largely intact buildings that provided good sightlines.

It was mid-day when Nate next spoke. "We're only a few blocks away."

I gave my surroundings another once over before turning to him. The smaller man was gazing at the buildings around us too, taking in the collapsed structures, blown out windows, and piles of rubble. The city was dead, but I could tell he was looking at it with eyes that saw what it had been only a few days prior for him. "This… this is crazy. It shouldn't-" He stopped and swallowed whatever he was going to say when he caught me studying him. "Sorry, I don't mean to linger on it." He shook himself like he was trying to get rid of a chill. "So do you have a plan for getting inside?"

… No, I hadn't thought about it; my default was either to find a back door or force my way in, but that probably wouldn't work here. "No."

"You were just going to leave that to me?"

"Yes."

The ex-soldier's eyes narrowed for a moment before he rolled them. "You need to work on your communication skills." After a few seconds without a response Nate huffed. "Well I don't know what they'd consider 'normal', I don't know if they accept new people off the streets, hell we don't know if these people are even trustworthy."

"This is a major hub for trade in the area." 'Major' is relative here.

"And?"

"They probably see new people coming through often enough."

Nate chewed on his lower lip for a moment before cocking his head. "Maybe we could pose as merchants."

Pose as merchants? How would that work? "We don't have anything to trade."

"No, but larger merchants wouldn't carry their wares with them, especially with people like the Raiders running around. We're obviously well equipped, so it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to say we have stockpiles somewhere else." He looked me up and down. "If people thought we had more sets of armor like yours it wouldn't be a hard sell."

"When they find out we don't?"

"That doesn't matter, we just need to poke around long enough to find our next lead."

You mean our first lead. "So I'm your escort."

An odd noise came from his throat as he choked down a short laugh. "Bodyguard. Escort has a… different meaning."

I shrugged. Whatever.

"We can use the same story I told the Brotherhood."

"Okay."

He continued staring at me for a moment; he was clearly thinking about something, like he wanted to ask a question.

"Yes?"

"You remember what I said last night- this morning? I don't know- when we were in the Police station?"

"You taking lead."

"Yeah, if something bad happens here we might be shit out of luck, so could you let me?"

If he wanted to put his trust in strangers that was his choice, but if it affected my ability to get back to the UNSC, that was a problem. In this environment it would be impossible to account for every shot and it would be easy enough for him to take-

"Because I can tell you're running through the risks in that tin can of yours, I'd like to suggest you not treat this like a battlefield. You don't seem to have much experience with that, but if this really is the largest 'city' in the area and a major trade post, it would make for bad business practice to shoot potential new merchants or customers."

Not a battlefield? I couldn't stop my head from turning to look at the destroyed city around us.

A sigh drew my gaze back to the smaller man. "I get it, but we can't treat it like that. This war was- it- it was a long time ago now." He closed his eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths. When he opened them again, they drilled into my faceplate with the same focus I'd seen when I first met him in Sanctuary. "You brought me to get you in touch with someone who could help; let me do that."

"Taking unnecessary risks is how operations fail."

"This isn't an unnecessary risk, how else are we supposed to get into Fenway? Non-violently." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Like I said: you brought me for this, you said how we got in was up to me."

Several dozen methods for entry paraded themselves through my head, but not many did so without at least a few dead bodies, and fewer still in a way that wouldn't lead to dead bodies later. Diplomacy isn't my thing, and what did I drag Nate with me for if I wasn't going to use him for that.

'Without trust, no one gets out alive.'

Right.

"We stay clear of open areas and keep our distance until we talk to someone."

"That sounds reasonable."

Nate began walking again and I followed several paces behind. It was only another minute or two when we came to a large parking lot filled with rubble and beyond it must have been the 'baseball' stadium that had been the object of so much mystery to this point.

I didn't need to see the smaller man's face to know he was gaping at the sight. Just as he was about to take a step out toward the parking lot I grabbed his shoulder and turned him back toward me. "We go around." The expression he wore reminded me of the one he'd had when he first saw his house in Sanctuary. "Focus."

"Bu… but- but this." He limply motioned at the stadium. "This isn't-"

"You can't worry about that, focus on getting us inside."

His face morphed from a mask of confusion and fear to one of anger. "Do you not understand what's happening here for me? You can't give me a fucking minute to process all of this- my world is gone. GONE! Two days ago this was- I was just here for a game a few weeks ago. Do you know what the word 'sympathy' means? Shit, do you know what emotions are?"

I thought he was passed this. We're standing here when a sniper could be watching us, hell that parking lot probably has guards patrolling it.

"None of that is helpful right now. We find a way around this."

"It doesn't matter where we go, there will either be a parking lot or avenue to cross to get to the stadium. I'm tired of this overly cautious bullshit, we're here; if this is such a large settlement this area is already going to be clear." He was clearly still agitated, but at least he was focusing on the problem at hand.

"The last-"

"Percent is always the most dangerous, I know. To be honest I don't really care at this point. I want my goddamn son back."

This is why I don't deal with civilians.

He tried to knock my hand off his shoulder, when I didn't let go the smaller man tried to shove himself away.

Would you just listen goddamnit? The point is to get through this ALIVE. If you die the only people who might be able to help are a day's walk away.

After a moment's struggle he stopped and fixed me in an utterly blank stare. "If you're going to force me to do this all your way, you might as well cut me loose; I'm not going to 'help' you."

My admittedly limited patience had been tested over the past week. I've gotten tired of trying to keep people alive despite their own mistakes. He wants to get his head blown off… I'll just have to figure out how to do this without him.

I released him and the smaller man wordlessly turned and marched out into the parking lot. He didn't make it a half dozen meters before a round cracked by and slammed into the broken concrete at his feet. With the number of buildings and echo careening from every surface, it was impossible to tell where the report originated.

Before another thought could make its way into mind, my legs coiled, ready to spring forward and grab my charge, but something about Nate's demeanor stilled them. The smaller man was completely calm, rifle resting on its sling, his hands in the air.

"State your business", a voice came over a loudspeaker somewhere on the baseball stadium.

"I'm a trader from down south. Myself and my bodyguard heard rumors of Diamond city and are here to take a look." Nate did a good job of sounding unfazed despite shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Have your body guard come out and we'll talk."

The ex-soldier turned his head to peer back at me.

Every instinct was screaming to stay in the relative cover of the side street. Stepping out into that open parking lot was asking to take a bullet. What choice do I have now? If I don't come out they'll think we're a threat and that can only make things worse. God damn it. I glared at the smaller man; if there was one thing I hate more than waiting, it's being forced into a position I don't want to be in.

With little other choice, I stalked toward my charge. Unlike him, I never took my hands off my rifle.

After watching me walk into the open with no small amount of surprise on his face, Nate turned back to the stadium. "We're both here, can we talk now?"

"Standby."

Shortly after the voice faded, several sets of footsteps began approaching from the far side of the parking lot. It was still several seconds before they would be in view thanks to the rubble mounds. Despite my head screaming at me to keep scanning, I tore my eyes from the sounding buildings and resumed glaring at the smaller man. The firm stare straight ahead told me he felt my gaze through the visor; I wouldn't call the tight lipped expression he wore 'afraid' but he was definitely nervous.

"Never force me into a position like this again."

"I didn't- can't force you to do anything."

You mentioned me when you didn't need to. Both of us know they would tell me to come out if they knew I was here.

I didn't voice my displeasure any further, it would have been pointless, and the guards responsible for the footsteps rounded the nearest pile of debris. Five of them fanned out around us; their armor was… odd looking, but at least more uniform than the Raiders'. It was a mixture of leather padding and sparingly used steel plates. Again, it didn't look like it would stop anything more than a 9mm, if the leather pads would even do that.

As they caught their first sight of me, they hesitated, but continued to establish a semi-circle between us and the stadium.

The man in the center spoke up. "You say you're a trader?" Nate nodded. "Where are you two from?"

"Down south. I'm more of a broker than anything and my clients are keen on their privacy. We have a lot we can offer, I assure you." He motioned his head at me.

The guard looked me up and down, I felt the others studying me as well, before he nodded. "We'll escort you inside, there some vendors you can talk to in our marketplace, but don't be trying anything stupid; there are guards constantly patrolling and our vendors are all packing."

Nate held out his hands. "You'll get no problems from us."

Without another word, the guard turned and motioned for us to follow, as we did, the other men formed up around us. It took every bit of self control I had to keep my rifle down and maintain a steady pace toward the stadium.

A few moments later we were standing in front of a large rusted gate built into the side of the stadium. It looked like the barrier was added sometime after the building's construction, probably when they occupied it; I don't know why a sports venue would need a 3 ton steel gate to protect its entrance under normal circumstances. Our escort's lead walked to an intercom mounted on the wall and keyed the microphone. "It's Olsen with a couple traders."

"Gotcha, gimme a sec to get the gate."

As the intercom clicked off, hydraulic motors started whining and the barrier began creeping open. My visor dropped to its lowest polarization and my eyes hurried to adjust to the almost pitch black interior. Through the large steel door was covered walkway toward a bright exit around 50 meters away that, judging by the sounds wafting our way, was the interior of the stadium.

Near the end of the passage were two shielded machine gun emplacements bracketing the opening. A quick look around the interior as we walked showed a blockade in every adjoining passage, ranging from welded steel sheets to piles of rubble. They'd arranged what would be an extremely effective killbox if someone tried to force entry. If they had other entrances around the stadium they would most likely mimic this one; not bad. It was a hell of a lot better than what I've seen thus far. It doesn't surprise me this place turned into what it is; good, defensible position with effective emplacements and crowd control measures.

The guard in front of us stopped short of the machine guns and turned back to Nate and I. "We don't confiscate weapons, but you will be under watch while you are here. Diamond City has a very long history of dealing with criminals, don't add yourself to the tally, you got me?"

"Absolutely", Nate responded, "We're here on business, I don't know about you but I find it harder to do that with a bunch of extra holes in me."

Our escort cast one more glance at me before heading back to the exterior. Nate paused for a heartbeat before continuing toward the entrance to Diamond City.

Notes:

So yes, the ending was a bit abrupt to this chapter, but it was either that or a 20k word chapter, and I didn't want to do that. I'm still debating on whether I want to go shorter/more frequent on the chapters, so let me know what you all want. See you all next time!

Chapter 6: The Beginnings of a Beautiful Friendship

We emerged from the tunnel into the stadium’s seating area with a clear view down to where the field had been 200 years prior. Now it was a collection of cobbled together structures that looked like they had been made from whatever their occupants could find, from wooden planks, to corrugated steel, and even what seemed to be random vehicle parts. Hell, there was an entire burnt out truck sitting off to one side of the group of structures.

Taken as a whole, the ‘town’ looked like a collection of items someone took out of a landfill, decided to build a poor facsimile of civilization, and lashed it all together with… well I’m not sure what. I bet if a strong wind found its way over the stadium walls, most of these structures would collapse.

Most of the ‘buildings’, for lack of a better, word were grouped toward the near side of the field while it looked like the far side was some form of farm. Similarly unstable looking structures were haphazardly strewn around the seating area, probably living accommodations.

People were strolling through the collection of structures, shopping, talking, eating, and more. With how small the area was, a thousand people, give or take with Preston’s estimation, looked as densely packed as any of the large cities I’d seen. It was oddly… comforting. I never made a habit of spending time around crowds, there were too many risks involved and few, if any, reasons to do so, but it was familiar. To this point this world has been so desolate, it was uncomfortable; seeing something resembling civilization was a nice change.

“This is so… wrong.” The soft, almost silent statement of disbelief drew my gaze from the ramshackle collection of wood, rebar, corrugated steel, concrete, and rubble to Nate. He was staring at the crowded playing field, wide eyed.

How many times are you going to do this?

“Someone will get suspicious if we stay here.”

With an absentminded nod, the smaller man’s feet began carrying him toward the bottom of the seating area where a pathway had been made to the center of the ‘town’.

After several seconds of walking he shook himself like a wet dog and squared his shoulders. “We need to find someone who knows the area, someone who can help track.”

Track his son? I can understand the urgency to get his son back, but I held up my end of the bargain; getting side tracked like that could add a significant amount of time to getting back, and there was no telling if Nate could find him even if the kid was still alive. “I agreed to get you here, I need someone who knows about the Institute.”

Nate stopped dead in his tracks and shot what was probably the most venomous look he had to give. “The fuck do you mean?”

I squared my shoulders to him; the look was something I’d seen countless times, from Innies, from the team of ODST’s I’d worked with, hell even civilians. Even if I hadn’t he wasn’t in a position to try intimidation. “We are operating off of the understanding if I got you here, you would help me find someone to help me get in contact with the Institute.”

“So what, you’re cutting me off here? Just humping me to the nearest civilization and dropping me off once I’m not useful anymore? We’re talking about my son.” The ex-soldier was fuming, probably a continuation of our earlier conversation.

“That’s all I agreed to. I have my own priorities.”

The borderline murderous expression slowly melted into one of astonishment. “You really have no sympathy do you? I’m looking for my son here; Shaun is the only thing I have left.”

Despite myself, I had to choke down a humorless, mocking laugh. Sympathy? HA! I never had the benefit of sympathy. Do I have any? Preston’s group is alive, you’re here and alive so I guess I have some, yeah, but it doesn’t get in the way of mission objective.

What is mission objective?

Return to UNSC.

If it’s possible.

If it is, that’s priority.

And if it isn’t?

The sooner I find out the better.

“Sympathy doesn’t have any place in operations, you were military, you know that.”

“Are you fuc- this- this isn’t an ‘operation’, this is about my child! Hell you don’t even know if you can get back!”

“I don’t know I can’t, so it’s my duty to find out.”

“Your duty is more important than a baby’s life?!”

“We have different priorities; his life is your responsibility.”

Nate sneered at me. “Now we’re here, what if I just refuse until you help?”

My back went ramrod straight and muscles loosened before I went deathly still. My gaze sharpened and I stared him down through the visor. For a moment, even the sound of the relatively busy town seemed to fade away. I wouldn’t kill him for breaking his side of the agreement; maybe it was his determination, the blatant vengefulness he’d displayed when I found him at the bunker, the military training. Maybe it was a combination of those things and a few besides, but every part of me was screaming this man was a threat. Threats are something I eliminate.

“I won’t be stabbed in the back.”

Nate’s eyes flashed wide; he scrambled backward and reached for his rifle, but froze, eyes locked on me. His right hand was halfway to the weapon’s grip in front of his chest, but I’d never released mine. I hadn’t raised it yet, but the instant he touched his, the man’s life was forfeit. The nearly animalistic fear on his face told me he was probably thinking about the fight with the Raiders three days prior, and he was smart enough to know that rifle would get him killed.

“So- so what do you want? You want me to stop looking for my son to help you?”

“I want you to uphold your part of our agreement.”

“If we have different priorities, and mine is to get him back, why should I put that on pause to help you which isn’t my responsibility?” Despite the shakiness in his voice, Nate managed to spit the last word like it was poison.

“Because it would turn you into a liability.” I let the implications hang in the thickening air between us. This is one of the few types of interactions I’ve had some experience with in the field. Frankly, my approach wasn’t much different from how I fight: prod at the opposition, give them impossible choices, leverage my ‘advantages’, and occasionally veiled threats were a great way to get what you want. Even so, this interaction would go much smoother if I had more experience with people in general.

“So you’re just going to force me to help before looking for my son.”

“I told you in Sanctuary: I don’t like being exploited.”

“And I told you, I’m looking for my son.”

“You aren’t the only one looking for something; this isn’t even my reality.”

Another flash: my house, gunfire, someone yelling my name and grabbing me before a loud tearing noise and a spray of blood. Then a jump forward, Fourier and his squad… my squad prepping for an operation. How were those memories connected? Why would they be a part of the same flash? I couldn’t place it, but both filled me with a feeling of overwhelming loneliness. I’ve spent most of my life alone; isolation isn’t new to me so why am I feeling lonely now of all times? It isn’t going to help here.

For his part, Nate had opened his mouth to reply, but his expression changed to shock and then melted into… something else just before the words came out and it slowly drifted shut again. His eyes had a strange curiosity.. “This is the first time you’ve sounded… anything but frustrated, really.”

The statement took me by surprise; had I sounded any different than normal? And did I normally sound frustrated?

“And?”

He averted his gaze for a moment and shrugged. “I don’t know- you sounded… upset.”

Upset? I didn’t feel any different than normal, outside of being pestered by more memories. “That isn’t important.”

After another pause the ex-soldier met my gaze again, suddenly all of the fire in his face was gone. He was thinking something, but I couldn’t place it. His expression didn’t say ‘pity’, but it was similar. “Alright, but can I ask you something?”

I gave a curt nod despite my irritation.

“If our paths go in the same direction, can you help me? I just want my son back.” The smaller man hesitated, clearly fighting with what he wanted to say next. Eventually the internal argument resolved and he sucked in a deep breath. “And I’d like to help you too, if that ends up being useful anyway.”

Help me? Once he finds me someone who can point me toward the Institute, how would he help me? And why would he want to? “Why?”

A sad smile crossed his face. “Maybe I’m just being sentimental, but I feel like it’s right for two people who have been ripped out of their worlds to stick together. Plus… I get the feeling we’re both going to need the extra help.”

You more than me. It was… intriguing; the man knew how to fight, and he was better with people than me, but having someone else would only slow me down, so the question is: will I need a guide once I’ve made contact with the Institute?

“We’ll see.”

Nate hesitated again before nodding slowly. Judging from prior experience, he had something else to say, but he was clearly still upset.

“Let’s start in the market, someone there might know who would have the information you need.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before turning to march down the rest of the stairs toward what, in another time, had been a playing field. The ex-soldier controlled it well, but I couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in his gait and slight shake in his hands. Somehow seeing the fear, this time directed straight at me instead of what I’d done, brought on a pang of… guilt?

I didn’t instigate the argument.

As I started after the smaller man, I did my best to push the emotion away.

 

Walking through the ‘town’s’ market was both uncomfortable and an exercise in frustration. There were dozens of people milling around the area, talking, shopping, eating, and whatever else people do in marketplaces, but they were so closely packed, it was impossible to keep track of everything.

On top of that, I’d never been so conscious of my size or armor. That was most likely because I’d spent the majority of my life in settings where it didn’t matter, but standing tall enough to be seen by everyone in the area didn’t help when they were also inclined to stare because of my armor. It felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were drilling into me from every direction, so much so that it took all of my willpower to keep from tearing off toward cover. I’d spent the last 15 years trying to keep as small a presence as possible, right now it felt like I had the same as a Scorpion MBT.

My discomfort must have shown because, despite his still present nervousness, I caught Nate smirking at me from time to time as we made our way through the crowd. Besides potential threats in the throng, my main concern was how people would respond to my presence. Neither Nate nor I knew what these people would do with me here.

After what seemed like a week of trudging through the suffocating marketplace, Nate stopped in front of a shop that was empty save a small brown haired woman in a ragged button up shirt. She was standing behind a few haphazardly nailed together pieces of wood that were probably supposed to serve as a counter. The clerk didn’t make any attempt to hide her half confused, half incredulous expression as she stared up at me.

My charge cleared his throat. “Hi ma’am. We’re new around here. Name’s Nate.”

Her eyes shot from me to the smaller man. “I figured.” Her scratchy voice was almost accusatory. “Where’d you two come here from?”

Nate seemed to have noticed her tone too, if his frown was anything to judge by. “From… down south. Did I do something wrong?”

“Maybe, don’t know yet, but if you're a synth, take your ass somewhere else.”

So whatever a ‘synth’ is, these people think the same way about them as the Brotherhood? Does that mean they distrust the Institute too?

I couldn’t ignore the screaming in the back of my head anymore; I turned away from the shop and back toward the crowd of people, many of whom were still openly glaring at me.

“I’ve heard of synths before, but I have no idea what they are. Sorry, we aren’t from around here.”

“You don’t know what synths are?”

“Afraid not, why don’t you serve them.”

I could almost feel the woman’s suspicion. “You want me to believe you don’t know what a synth is? What, you’ve never heard of the Institute?”

“I have, but I don’t know much about them either.”

“You said you’re from down south? Where about?”

Uh oh. Either he could lie and give her an area and risk getting his lack of knowledge exposed, or he could keep being vague, which would probably end the conversation. I don’t think explaining he spent the last 200 years as an ice cube would help his situation.

“The Appalachians, a ways southwest of DC.”

I didn’t know what either of those were, but it still sounded pretty vague, maybe that was the best option.

A young kid stopped in front of me, mouth agape in open astonishment. He didn’t look like he could have been any older than five. Same age I was when the Covenant attacked. I wonder if his parents are alive in this backasswards world. We stared at each other for a few seconds before an older man came and grabbed him, casting furtive glances back at me as they hurried into the crowd.

I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. A familiar anger swelled from deep in my chest. I didn’t have time to deal with it now though.

“How did you get up here?”

“Ma’am, is there a reason this is turning into an interrogation?”

“Like I said, I ain’t selling to synths.”

“It doesn’t sound like there’s a way for me to convince you we aren’t. It’s fine, I’m just looking for directions to someone who knows the area, and someone else who might be able to help me find a missing person.”

“A missing person?”

The split second hesitation before he answered wasn’t lost on me. I guess I scared him more than I thought; he was being awfully careful to keep my priorities at the front. “That’s personal business, but we’re also looking for someone who can give us info on the area.”

“Whatever. If you want to find a missing person, you’ll want to talk to Nick Valentine. He runs a Private Detective agency over there. He’s also a good person to ask if you need to know about ongoings around the Commonwealth. Most of us don’t leave Diamond City, too dangerous with the Mutants and the damn synths.”

“Thanks for the information.”

No response came as Nate walked past me and I followed him back into the maelstrom that was the crowded market center. It didn’t feel like any fewer people were staring at me now than when we’d first arrive, and considering how on edge they all seem it might actually be safer for Nate without me here. If even 10% of them were carrying, the attention I was drawing outweighed the protection I could provide. The only positive was the crowd seemed to part around us as we walked, like no one wanted to be within five meters of me.

As I was looking around I caught the ex-soldier glancing back at me again, this time there was less amusement and more concern in his expression.

We detached ourselves from the crowd and walked down an adjoined isle toward a large, neon pink sign that read Valentine Detective Agency.

“You don’t spend much time in crowds huh?”

I shook my head. The amount of incoming information was… difficult. I don’t know how people operate in a setting like that.

“You know what I said about this not being a battlefield?” Met his gaze. “That might help you here; I know what it’s like to come back from a combat environment. Too much going on, too many risks, too many potential threats. Saw a buddy lose it once at a VA event.” He shuddered. “Not saying it’s easy, but it will help.”

Don’t think about this place as a battlefield? That sounds like terrible advice considering the planet was turned into one. I could deal with a crowd on occasion if it was a necessity, but wouldn’t be letting my guard down even if I could.

“Let’s talk to this supposed expert.”

He opened his mouth, but it drifted shut without a word and he looked back at the small shack beneath the blazing advertisement. Yeah... I guess I did a good job of intimidating him. The thought was more uncomfortable than it should be, that twinge of guilt still floating in the back of my mind.

We arrived at the ‘building’ and he rapped on the wooden door hard enough it might spontaneously collapse.

“Hello”, a voice called from the inside, “can I help you?”

“Yes, my companion and I are new to the area; we’re trying to find our way around and need a missing person looked into. I was told Nick Valentine was the person to talk to about that.”

A moment of silence was followed by a quick rustling before footsteps approached the opposite side of the door. Whoever was on the other side hesitated again before undoing the latch and swung the door open. She was a tall, lanky woman wearing a pink scarf and worn khaki vest over a short sleeve shirt and skirt. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Nate smiled. “Hi ma’am, are you Nick Valentine?”

“You’re looking for Nick? No… I’m- I’m just his secretary, Ellie, handling paperwork, appointments, that sort of thing.” Her eyes fell to the ground. “Or I used to. Hard to run a detective agency with no detective.”

The ex-soldier frowned. “No detec- did something happen?” I couldn’t tell if the concern in his voice was for the detective or for his chances of finding his son.

Ellie looked back at the ex-soldier. “He was working a case, looking for a lost girl at a local gangster’s hideout. I told him not to go I-” her voice cracked and it took several breaths for her to regain her composure. “I told him not to go, that it was a trap and- and he just walked out of the door. He walked out with that same smile like he always does.”

“We may be able to help, do you mind if we come in?” It almost sounded like Nate blurted the words out before he could think about what he was saying.

For her part, the woman was shocked out of her depression for a moment. “Oh, uh, I don’t know if you can help but… but it would probably be good for me to talk with someone other than myself.” She turned from the door and plodded back into the building.

Nate was just about to take a step forward when he turned and looked at me, the question and uncertainty evident in his expression.

Is it worth the time?

I don’t have enough information to make that call yet and at this point, it’s still the best path forward. Hearing her out might glean some information on the area as well, even if this turns into a dead end.

I nodded. Nate walked into the dimly lit interior and I ducked through the door after him.

The shack had a desk at the far end with two chairs in front of it and one behind. There were a few filing cabinets arranged around the room with a few other chairs. Manila folders and loose paper were strewn around every flat surface. Light came from a hanging lamp that probably only provided around half what I would call ‘normal’ for a room this size, as small as it was. This interior was a whole new type of uncomfortable; I could barely stand up straight without my head hitting the corrugated steel roof.

Ellie was taking a seat behind the desk when she looked up and almost tumbled over backward in the chair.

“Holy- what- who are you?”

She didn’t see me standing behind Nate outside?

The woman’s eyes flew from side to side so fast it was almost comical as she looked me over. Maybe she had been too focused on Nate talking about what had happened? I know from experience how easy it is to tunnel vision in high stress situations.

I shrugged mentally; it didn’t matter, I just need to know what the situation is.

Nate looked from her, to me and back, the look on his face equal parts confusion and humor. He was trying very hard to hold in a laugh. “This is my travel partner.”

She stared at me for a few heartbeats before looking down and brushing at a few wrinkles in her skirt that weren’t ever going to come out. “Well, okay then, take a seat if you’d like.”

It’s strange she isn’t reacting the same way as everyone in the crowd or that shop owner. Is she just desperate for help? Does she not share their distrust of the Institute? Something else?

Nate sat in the prescribed chair while I stayed near the entrance.

“Why are you offering to help?”

The question wasn’t exactly accusatory, but it made sense she would have doubts about a stranger walking in off the street to help.

“Like I said, we’re looking for someone who can help with our… problems. We were told most people here don’t go out of the stadium often.”

Ellie nodded. “That’s true, Nick and the guards are the only one who do it regularly. We have traders that come in obviously, but those are usually caravans that stay on their routes. It’s a lot safer that way. Would you mind me asking what those ‘problems’ are?”

It was happening slowly, but the woman’s demeanor was changing; she was obviously still upset, but she seemed to have picked up a few ques from her employer.

“Well… we’re looking for my son, and for information on the Institute.”

Another short silence passed as the secretary studied Nate with a raised eyebrow. “That’s an odd combination, are you someone else who suspects the Institute of kidnapping someone?”

“I… don’t know, but that’s why we’re here.”

She looked between the two of us. I’m not sure I like the idea of going on a chase for someone who is most likely dead. Problem is it doesn’t sound like I have an alternative at this point. Maybe one of the guards would be able to help? Probably not, not if they have the same distrust of the Institute everyone else does. Ellie doesn’t seem as upset with the topic, so it’s possible she, and by extension Nick, have more information on them than the average person here.

That or they don’t buy the borderline conspiracy theorist story about them; Sturges had said he didn’t trust most of the stories he heard. I know how those work, hell there were probably some about me, and ONI definitely engaged in actions most would brush off as conspiracies. Somehow I doubt any organization that exists in a world like this has the capacity to operate like that.

“I want to trust you, I do, because if there’s any hope Nick is still alive, I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of it. It isn’t like I can tear off across the city to rescue him; I doubt I’d make it more than 20 feet from the gates.”

“You’re saying if the detective is alive we would have to fight our way to him?”

She nodded. “Yes, he went to the hideout of a gang called the Triggermen. They are in a Vault under Park Street Station but… well it’s a Vault, so there’s only one way in and it’s definitely going to be guarded.”

Highly fortified emplacement with heavy guard and underground too? The smirk that spread across my face wasn’t entirely involuntary. That is my kind of operation.

Aren’t I supposed to be looking for a lead on the Institute?

Yes, but I couldn’t lie to myself, the fights I’ve had so far have been… disappointing. These guys were at least intelligent enough to set up shop in a defensible position. Besides, this may be the best path forward, so what’s the harm?

Dying?

Well that’s just part of the fun isn’t it?

Losing Nate?

If he decides to come along, that’s his choice to make.

Nick might already be dead.

I won’t know until I get there. Isn’t that the same logic I’m using to justify pushing so hard to get back to the UNSC? I don’t know if it’s even possible.

Motion drew my attention back to the outside world. Nate was turning to me.

“Well? It’s probably the best we can do for now unless we get extremely lucky.”

“I’m not opposed; we’ll need more intel.”

A half worried, half amused smile flickered across his face as he turned back. “Fighting our way in won’t be a problem, but he’s right. First of all, why would you think he’s still alive?”

The woman stared at Nate, a look of open astonishment on her face. “You’re going after him? You’ll go after Nick?”

“If we can get him out alive, if he is still alive.”

“Right.” She settled back into the chair. “The gang he went after, the Triggermen, he and their leader, Skinny Malone, they have a history together from when Malone was in Good Neighbor.”

“Good Neighbor?”

“You- oh right, not from around here. Good Neighbor is another town a little ways away. Not quite as large but it’s a little more... rugged than here.”

“More crime?”

“Less law.”

“Okay so he runs a gang from the rougher part of town. Do you know how many are with him? What kind of experience they have? What weapons they have”

“They run like any other group in the area: raid caravans mostly, sometimes get into turf wars, that’s about it. I think they model themselves after older gangs from before the war, so they use submachine guns for the most part. I don’t know how many of them there are though.”

“Do you know anything about their hideout?”

She shook her head. “Just that it’s a vault.”

So an unknown number of targets, most likely better armed and organized than the Raiders I’ve fought, in a heavily defended position. I’ve worked with less.

“Alright, you mind if we talk it over?”

“Oh, no go right ahead.” A sad smile flickered across her face. “I guess I’m a bit surprised; I didn’t think anyone would help?”

Nate stood from the desk. “Thanks.”

The ex-soldier followed me back out into the brownish sunlight and ramshackle town.

“So what do you think?”

I shrugged. “It’s doable. Without any information on the target location or enemy numbers, there are a lot of risks involved, but I’ve had worse.”

“Okay, I’ll let her know we’ll do it.”

“We need to wait.”

Nate squinted at me. “Wait? Why?”

“We are doing this just before dawn, and you need rest.”

Considering I’d been awake for more than two days now, I could probably use a few hours of shut eye too.

“No, we need to get moving; if this guy is still alive, waiting might change that.”

“I want every advantage I can get with this many unknowns.”

“The longer we wait the further these bastards get with my son.”

“And if you get killed?”

“What, you don’t think you can wipe these guys out too?”

I cocked my head. It was a challenge, but the way he said it, the smaller man sounded like he resented me for what I’d done to the Raiders, or intended to do to this gang.

“Your survival is not a requirement for me to do so.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

My statement hadn’t been a threat, but it upset him all the same. I couldn’t tell if my irritation stemmed from my inability to interact with these people, or their inability to act rationally. The problem now is if things continue like they have been, I’m going to lose his cooperation and I’ll be back to square one. He’s probably still agitated from out in the parking lot. Then there was his episode in the seating area, now he’s clearly nervous. How do I calm him down?

Explaining it wasn’t a threat would probably be a good place to start.

Is it? Maybe, but I don’t know how to do that? How do I convince him? No answer presented itself from the now swirling mess of confusion and frustration that was my head.

Fighting is infinitely easier than this. Fighting is simple. Dealing with people has too many unknowns.

Maybe the best answer was the truth, but that would involve talking about prior missions.

If the goal is to pacify him, and that is the route with the best chance of success, take it.

I didn’t know if it was, but standing here arguing with myself wasn’t going to get me anywhere

“That wasn’t a threat; it isn’t uncommon for regs operating with SPARTANs on high risk assignments.”

The ex-soldier squinted for a split second before his eyes went wide with surprise. Was that wrong?

“Say that again.” The anger had left his voice, replaced with confusion and a sliver of disbelief.

Why?

“I’ve had regular soldiers die on high risk operations before.”

The surprise didn’t leave his face. “I- that’s the first time you’ve talked about the missions you did in your… uh… reality.”

My mind replayed my conversations with him to this point, searching for other mentions of my role. I’d more or less confirmed at least part of what I did when he asked back in Cambridge, but it was the first time I mentioned it myself.

“Your point?”

“Surprised is all. Maybe it’s that you’re actually trying to be- well I don’t think ‘sociable’ is the right word, but less, I think the best way to put it is ‘stick up your ass’.” He cocked his head for a moment. “That’s probably wrong too; I’m just surprised you told me something about yourself without me having to pry it out of you.”

Oh you definitely had to pry it out of me, just not the way you think.

Silence found its way into the conversation, or at least as much silence as there could be with the constant din of the town’s marketplace nearby, as Nate lost himself in thought. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell what was running through his head.

“And you complained about me somehow forcing you to do something”, he said eventually as he shook his head. It wasn’t the agreement I was looking for, but it wasn’t an argument either. If I had to put a word to it, I’d say his tone was resigned’. “Fine, we’ll wait until tonight.”

We re-entered the shack to Ellie’s nervous gaze.

“We’ll do it, but we’re going to wait until tonight.”

The woman’s expression melted into a mess of relief, sadness, and hope. “Oh thank you. Thank you so much.” She lurched forward in her chair like she’d suddenly remembered something and pulled one of the desk’s drawers open. “I don’t have much, certainly not enough to pay you for something like this.” She pulled a small bag out and set it on the desk in front of her. “I can promise we’ll help you with whatever you need afterward though, free of charge of course.”

The bag sounded like it was filled with more bottle caps when Nate took it from the desk. “I think we’ll be fine with that.” I nodded as he glanced at me.

She let out a breath. “So, I forgot to ask, but what are your names?”

“Well I’m Nate…”

The two of them looked at me.

“Damon.”

She nodded. “Thank you both for doing this.”

 

This just keeps getting better… The thought was only half facetious as I crouched in the entrance to one of the many collapsing towers surrounding the small park that Ellie told us would be the best point of entry for the subway. The clearing was a microcosm of what this world had become: dead trees, and patchy, dead grass mixed with piles of rubble strewn over the rusted and dilapidated ruins of what had been tables, chairs, and playground equipment.

“I haven’t seen anyone”, Nate whispered from his position on the opposite side of the doorway.

Thanks for the input. Scanning the area with NV had given me a much better idea of what might be out there. It was true there were no guards at the service entrance to the subway, but the ground was too thick for my optics to penetrate.

“Are you sure you just want me on rear guard?”

“It will be safer.”

“I don’t need you to worry about me.”

I glanced at the smaller man. “Safer for me too.”

A dissatisfied grunt flew my way. “So you’re saying I’m a liability?”

Nate seemed to be the opposite of Preston: the longer I’m around him the more argumentative he gets.

“In a fight like this.”

“You care to explain that one to me?”

He’s seen me fight several times; why is he trying to make things more difficult now? My gaze returned to the park. The ex-soldier was beginning to make keeping him around less and less tolerable. And he wanted me to help him find his son?

Why am I still dragging him with me? Or at the very least why didn’t I leave him back at the city and do this myself?

“Well?” The ex-soldier’s voice flew at me with the same venom it had when we first got to Diamond City.

“The best option you have is to follow my lead. This is what I do.” I did my best to convey I was done with the conversation; my next step would probably have involved some form of physical restraint.

For his part, Nate grunted but didn’t respond.

After a few more minutes of watching, the sky just began turning a shade brighter. I signaled for Nate to follow and slipped into the park. The ex-soldier was painfully loud crossing the rubble strewn street; it was almost like people were afraid of being silent.

We reached the small building that marked the entrance to the subway system. Light was spilling out of the entry way. It was coming from a pair of incandescent lights set in the wall flanking the double doors that served as entryways to the subway. So these people have electricity too. That was irritating; darkness would have made things much easier for me. Oh well.

I eased the door open a hand’s breadth and peered inside. Immediately beyond the door was a well lit trash strewn staircase leading to another doorway. Voices drifted up to me from whatever was on the other side. I caught maybe three distinct voices, but there may have been more.

Rifle trained on the doorway, I pushed the door the rest of the way open, slipped down the stairs and took up position to the right of the entrance. Inside looked like a lobby of some sort with rusted steel benches, broken down vending machines, and more trash scattered everywhere with the occasional crate.

The voices sounded like they were coming from a hall at the back of the room running by what must have been a ticket booth at one point in the distant past. I glanced behind me to see Nate still kneeling at the top of the stairs, watching the subway entrance. At least he was cooperating.

I was about to step through the doorway into the lobby when my head screamed at me to stop. Something didn’t look right about the entrance. My eyes roamed around the area again; no one I missed, not many places for anyone to hide. After a few heartbeats of searching, my gaze drifted down to the trash on the floor. There was a large pile of it spread on the other side of the door, but something about it was off.

I squeezed myself through the entrance and hugged the wall to the left, avoiding the layer of garbage covering that area. After another glance around the room, I carefully sifted through the assortment of food wrappers, cartons, and rags until I felt something solid.

Anti-personnel mine.

My eyes widened. Maybe I was wrong about this world; these people, who are supposed to be gang members, not only have access to security measures like this, but made good use of them.

Another razor sharp smile made its way onto my face. This would definitely be interesting.

Without knowing anything about it, trying to disarm the mine would take too long and be too dangerous. I looked back into the entryway; Nate was already watching me from the top of the staircase. I waved him down. Once he reached me I pointed to the mine. “They have this place wired, watch for traps.”

“These are gangsters?”

I looked at him pointedly. “With explosives.”

He shuddered. “Okay.”

While remaining vigilant for more traps, I slipped to the ticket booth and peered down the hall. There were three men standing in the hall, each of them dressed in rumpled black suits and matching hats, all cradling a submachine gun. At least that piece of info was right.

A dozen meters separated us, I could probably cross that before any of them could fire, but it would take one reflexive trigger pull and this incursion would become a lot louder. Was there anything I could do to get them to move toward me?

A soft ruffling came from the opposite corner of the lobby.

I wheeled on the sound, rifle up, but I was only greeted with Nate trying to get my attention with a crumpled piece of cloth. My irritation spiked again. What the hell is he doing? I’d already guessed he’d never done covert operations or infiltrations before, the guy was a ground pounder, but holy shit he doesn’t understand how these things work.

Just as I was about to turn back I noticed he was pointing at something. I looked in the prescribed direction-

Oh… I tamped down my frustration when I realized he was pointing at a maintenance door set in the far wall. If we could get that open without drawing the attention of the guards, it might lead us closer to the Vault that is supposedly buried somewhere in the subway system.

I crept back toward him, careful to avoid the mounds of trash, overturned benches, and scattered belongings. The door was rusted, which meant the hinges were most likely going to groan as the door opened. The question is how loud would they be? Nate stepped aside and turned to cover the hall. I placed my left hand on the door, rifle up, and carefully pushed the door open a fraction. The hinges shuddered, but didn’t squeal.

Before opening it any further, I searched the door jam . It didn’t take more than a few seconds to find what I was looking for: a string attached to the top of the door running to something in the room beyond. I slipped my knife through the crack and cut the tripwire.

With a quick doublecheck, I pushed the door open the rest of the way and swept the maintenance hall behind it. There was nothing but a rigged double barrel shotgun on the floor pointed at where an intruder’s head would be. Damn, these guys aren’t taking chances.

That set the trend for the trek down the maintenance hall. The problem was two fold really: the passage was so cramped I barely fit, and there were several traps along the way.

After several minutes of defusing traps, descending several sets of stairs, and generally wishing I’d just taken the direct approach, we emerged into a subway tunnel that was still under construction. Work lights, construction equipment, steel shipping containers, and dilapidated (really it was just collapsed) scaffolding was scattered everywhere.

There were also another half dozen guards milling around the area.

On the far side of the subway tunnel was what must have been the entrance to the Vault. The opening was shaped like a massive gear with three of the guards directly outside. The problem was there wasn’t much cover between here and there. A staircase that must have been the main entrance was to the left, and there was the scattered equipment, but the entire place was well lit and gaps between cover were too large to cross unnoticed.

Well… sometimes it’s just about being better than the other guy.

I turned to Nate who was still crouched behind me in the hall. I signaled for him to stay put; after I got a nod in response, I put together a quick plan of attack. I’d have to isolate the men at the door and be ready for those men from the entrance to come down the stairs. If I could put down the ones in here fast enough, I wouldn’t need to worry about two fronts, but how many were in the Vault? I could take cover at the staircase, dispatch those men first and confront the ones who leave the Vault from there.

A few seconds later I settled on my strategy and slipped out of the door. The staircase was a dozen meters away, I reached it just as the first target noticed me.

“Hey! The fuck are you doing in here?” He was standing on the station’s platform near the staircase; it was a little earlier than I wanted l, but with this kind of engagement it hardly mattered.

As I slid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, I shouldered my rifle and put a round through the bridge of the gangster’s nose. The others all started scrambling at the gunshot, but I put another down before they could get to cover. As that report faded, I heard the group of men from upstairs running to see what was happening. The three of them rounded the corner, weapons up, but I already had my sights on the top of the staircase.

My rifle barked and another enemy dropped, but as I sighted on the second, the remaining men opened up on automatic and peppered the bottom of the staircase with small caliber rounds. Several caught me and my shields flared in response. I fired twice more and their return fire ceased as they tumbled down the stairs.

I ducked behind the crumbling steps as more gunfire came from the Vault’s defenders. These men were definitely better than the Raiders, but they still weren’t professional soldiers; even Innies knew using weapons on automatic in a situation like this was not only ineffective, but potentially dangerous.

As the incoming fire slackened, I leaned out and took another gangster with a quick trigger squeeze. No sooner had the round connected than the others adjusted their fire and bullets cracked through the air I’d just vacated.

Nice response. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

No sense in wasting this opportunity just picking them off; it didn’t seem like any more would be coming down the stairs.

I leaned out once again and fired several rounds at my targets, but they were all well entrenched by this point, one below the station’s platform, one behind a steel shipping container, and two by the Vault entrance. Two peaked out of their cover to return fire. As they did, I rolled to my right, away from the staircase, and once I came up, I gave the trigger another squeeze and eliminated the gangster behind the container.

Before his body could hit the floor, I was sprinting for his cover. I slid to the edge of the walkway and dropped down next to the one hiding below the platform. The shock barely had time to register on his face before I brought the butt of my rifle down and caved the side of the gang member's head in, splattering the tracks with brain and bone.

Once I got to the steel container, I took stock of the targets in the area: still only the remaining two I’d originally seen. No one came from the Vault to help? That seemed… odd; these guys were well organized and armed. In a world like this, that would take more than just a dozen men to achieve and maintain.

“Who the fuck are you”, one of them shouted. “You know who you fucked with? You’re a goddamn dead man!”

Why do people feel the need to talk in a fight?

My response was a bullet through his head.

“GODDAMMIT”, the last one screamed. He started spraying wildly at my cover, rounds crashing into the thick steel, until his weapon clicked empty. I took that as my que to lance out from behind the storage container and sprinted for the Vault entrance.

My prey had only just dropped the empty magazine from his submachine gun when I slammed into him. The gangster tried to react, but before he could do anything, I swiped down and knocked the weapon out of his hands. I felt the distinct crunch of breaking bones and he doubled over in pain, clutching at this right arm as the bottom half of his forearm folded over itself in a compound fracture. He must have gone into shock immediately since no screaming followed him collapsing to the ground. Good, I might be able to get some information out of him.

“How many of you are there?”

The man’s face was rapidly draining of color as he looked from his arm, to his dead comrades, and up to me. “Wh- who- who are you? What do you want?” His voice was trembling in pain and fear.

“I want to know how many of your friends are in the Vault.”

“I… I don’t know- I don’t- Skinny took some of the boys out on a raid.”

“How many are left?”

“Ten? Fifteen?”

A door squeaked open behind me. I wheeled on the sound, but it was just Nate exiting the maintenance hall. He looked at the carnage around the subway station as he walked toward the Vault entrance.

I turned back to my captive. “Where are you keeping Nick Valentine?”

The gang member looked as confused as a person who was going into severe circulatory shock could. “Uh- wh- who? Oh, the fuckin detective? He’s uh- he’s in the Overseer’s office behind the um- the- the cafeteria.”

That was probably as much as I was going to get out of him, and all I really needed. We don’t know the layout of this place, but he wasn’t in any condition to give me details. I’ve got an enemy count and a target location. Also, depending on how quickly we could get in and out, I may avoid fighting the gang’s main force.

…. Not sure if that’s a necessity yet.

I brought my rifle back up and, before the gangster had a chance to look surprised, put him down too.

A quick sweep of the subway and an ammo check later, I was moving into the Vault. Scrambling was coming from inside the depths of the structure as the fallen gang members’ cohort hurried to join them.

Inside the massive gear shaped doorway a catwalk leading to another room filled with dozens of containers of varying size. To the right was a dark, empty observation room, probably a security checkpoint for people entering. Straight ahead was another, much smaller door set in a steel bulkhead. To the left was another door behind several more shelves and containers pushed up against the wall. Several sets of boots ringing on steel were coming from behind that one which meant it was probably where we needed to go.

I glanced over my shoulder at Nate who was still ambling on the other side of the Vault’s entrance looking oddly lost. “Cover.”

His head snapped up, eyes wide, and he scrambled to the side of the large opening.

Just as the pounding reached the opposite side of the door, I crouched behind one of the larger crates just off of the catwalk giving me a good line of sight through the door once it opened. Several moments of silence followed; maybe they were getting into position.

A grenade would be perfect for this.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than the door snapped open and gunfire poured through. It wasn’t directed anywhere in particular, but underneath the barrage of reports I could just make out the patter of footsteps scrambling through the door. It was a rookie tactic but effective… against most enemies.

Before they had an opportunity to get anywhere, I leaned out from my cover and sighted on the first man through. He was sprinting for the shelves while his allies sprayed through the door. I caught a few rounds, but I still managed to put a bullet through his left eye and sprayed his brains back through the door for his trouble.

The next man stumbled over his friend’s collapsing body and I double tapped him in the top of the head as he fell.

As the second man hit the ground, my targets’ gunfire paused for a moment. With the lull, I swung out from behind the pillar and slipped toward the door. The first gangster who peaked back out didn’t have time to register me before a bullet pierced the bridge of his nose and he dropped to the steel floor like a ragdoll.

I reached the doorway before any of the other men could make any other moves. I counted three ‘Triggermen’ hiding on the opposite side of the bulkhead; one on either side of the opening and the last one taking cover behind a crate near the back of the adjoining room. The last one had just chambered a fresh round as I ducked through the door. His eyes began widening as shot him.

The gangster to my right backpedaled trying to buy some time as he reloaded; I brought my left leg around in a snap kick to his chest and sent him careening backward into the wall.

To his credit, the last living member of the welcoming committee lunged forward, swinging his submachine gun like a club. I caught his right forearm, twisting it hard enough to crush his elbow and wrench his shoulder from its socket. He went unconscious from the pain almost instantly and collapsed to the floor as I released the mangled arm.

I put a round in his head and, while I was fairly certain the man I’d kicked was dead, I did the same for him.

With a quick check to make sure there were no more Triggermen, I swapped magazines and checked the bodies for anything useful. While their submachine guns were better suited for the close quarters, adding another weapon would make things cumbersome.

“Damon?”

I turned to see Nate walking toward the group of bodies wide-eyed.

“Look- uh, could we… you… slow down a minute? Can we talk?”

He was about to step past the two dead men at the entrance and into the room. My gaze shifted to the door on the far end that was still open. I blocked his path before he could move into a potential line of fire.

“We’re in the middle of a gunfight.”

The smaller man gaped at me. “This isn’t a gunfight. You’re- you’re just killing them.”

That’s the point of a gunfight.

“If you’re uncomfortable, find somewhere to hide.” I turned back to the room and began toward the open doorway.

“HEY! DON’T YOU FUCKING IGNORE ME!”

I didn’t bother responding. As soon as this part of the mission was finished and Valentine was helping me contact the Institute, I wouldn’t have a use for the ex-soldier any longer. Bringing him here in the first place was a mistake, but I’d have to deal with it for the time being.

As long as he-

Something heavy thudded into my back.

I spun back toward the man who was very quickly becoming expendable. He was staring me down, eyes wide and hands empty.

His rifle was laying at my feet.

“I said don’t. Ignore. Me.”

My mind pulled in two directions at once: the first was back into the mission, back to moving and fighting, something I had infinitely more experience and was infinitely more comfortable with. The second was toward the center of a quickly growing anger.

One one hand, if I continued without addressing the problem, he would only become more disruptive. On the other, I only have one way of addressing problems.

Neither side was making any progress as the two of us stared each other down. He was still scared, but something else fought past the fear.

“What do you want”, I hissed.

Nate flinched at the heat in my voice, but he didn’t back down.

“These are people, you’re just gunning down people.”

What is he talking about?

“They’re holding the target captive.”

“Yeah but- but you don’t need to kill them for that. I mean maybe to get control of the situation, but not all of them.”

He wants me to spare them? Why?

“That’s an unnecessary risk, they don’t have anything either of us need. Why do you care?”

He started. “Why don’t you?”

“I care about completing the mission.”

“And it doesn’t matter-“

“The longer we stand here talking the more we risk them setting more ambushes or killing Valentine.”

This was already outside my standard operating procedures; what I and most other SPARTANs excel at is moving too quickly for the enemy to keep up. That advantage was gone now, not that it was essential, but it made things easier.

“I- okay just- could you…”

Leave some of them alive? That accomplishes nothing besides leaving an enemy to stab you in the back.

I didn’t offer a response and turned to exit the storeroom. I found myself in a long hall with another steel door at the other end. There was an intersecting hall half way down, but both directions were blocked off.

Through the next door was another partially constructed cavern that had a catwalk running from the hall to another sliding door 20 meters away on the opposite end of the enclosure. Rusted construction equipment was scattered around the space as well as several more Triggermen who were already positioned for a fight.

I didn’t waste any time with these ones; Nate’s delay already had me irritated. I was short on patience and had plenty of ammo.

30 seconds, 10 rounds later, and 5 gangsters later, I was through the next door. I was greeted by another empty store room with shelves and crates lining the wall. Oddly, this room had what looked like an access hatch removed from the center of the floor and a ladder extending down 10 meters. The only door in the room was sealed, so it seemed the only way forward was down.

The ladder looked sturdy, but most weren’t rated for 500 kilos. That was without rust decorating the steel rungs.

Dropping into the room below wasn’t the issue by itself, but if there was anyone lying in waiting, they might get the jump. There was a shelf about half way down the shaft that would allow me to clear the room before falling all the way down.

My armored boots clanged on the thick steel as I dropped onto the ledge. I did my best to load my legs and absorb the impact, but I could only do so much before physics decided to have its way. It wasn’t like the gunfire wouldn’t have alerted any remaining defenders to my presence.

The room below had some form of terminal sitting on a desk to one side that looked too old for a museum. Besides that it was vacant.

I dropped through the ceiling and did one more sweep to confirm there were no enemies. Nate made his way down the ladder after me and once he was at the bottom, I slid the next door open to another hall.

Two more open passages and I found myself peering through another door into what looked like a mess hall.

The overseer’s office… My gaze wandered over the cavernous, open three story room to a port hole set in the far wall of the top floor. In front of it were several crates with two more Triggermen preparing themselves to join their dead friends.

“Who the hell are you”, one of them screamed in an odd, twangy drawl.

I sighted on the small crate he was behind and readied to answer with a trigger pu-

“We’re just here for-“ It took me a moment to realize it was Nate calling out from behind me.

As soon as I did, I whipped around, grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed the ex-soldier into the steel wall behind him hard enough to produce a resounding boom. If his shocked cry was anything to judge by, he was more surprised than hurt.

“What the fuck are you doing”, I spat, voice low.

“I’m- I just- there can’t be many of them left.” Nate was still pleading for their lives? Why? “Just let them go, you don’t need to kill them; they’re no threat to you.”

“And Valentine?”

“If you have them restrained, he’ll be fine too.”

“You here to get fuckin’ Valentine”, the same man called. “Who sent you?”

My glare dared him to respond.

The smaller man’s eyes were wide with fear. “What, you going to shoot me too?”

“You aren’t opposition.” But you’re working hard to get there.

“You remember what I asked yesterday?”

“This is a battlefield.”

“Because you’re making it one.”

“Well? Who sent you bastards?”

I released the man’s shirt. “Don’t interfere again.”

It took a moment to put the anger away he’d ignited once again. I took my position back at the door and peeked back into the mess hall.

The man who was talking was peering out from behind his cover. Maybe he thought I was willing to talk since I hadn’t fired yet. I rewarded his stupidity with a bullet through his head and splattered his brain all over the porthole in the wall behind him.

An instant later the second Triggerman started screaming and firing wildly. I sent him to join his companion in the next heartbeat.

While his body fell, I did a quick sweep of the room to confirm all targets were down.

“Hey”, a muffled voice called out from behind the window. “Whoever you all are, we’ve got maybe 10 minutes before Skinny and the rest of his boys get back. Big mouth should have the password to open the door on him. Staircase is at the back.”

I slowly walked out into the mess hall, carefully checking the multitude of positions Triggermen could be hiding in. We were on the second floor with the center open to the seating area on the deck below. The same opening carried to the third floor. On the left side of the cafeteria was the prescribed stairway.

“Bastard.” It was quiet enough to be considered a whisper, but I’m sure Nate meant for me to hear it.

Talking would have gotten you shot before you made it past the subway lobby.

I led him to the top floor. “Open the door, I’ll watch for more.”

The smaller man glared at me for a moment before he crouched next to the first man’s body and searched for… I guess a piece of paper with the password on it.

A few seconds he stood up with a small pocketbook and flicked through it for a moment. Eventually he found something that seemed to satisfy him. The ex-soldier stalked to one of those ancient looking terminals sitting on a desk next to the door and began typing.

As he did, I moved to flank the door and it hissed open a moment later-

And… something resembling a human was standing on the other side.

Whatever it- he was, he had torn grey, skin that might have been silicon. His neck and right hand had the fake skin torn away at some point and the exposed metal endoskeleton was bare to see. The thing I assume was Nick wore a tattered trench coat and wide brimmed hat over an equally poorly looking button up shirt, tie, and slacks.

Then there were his glowing yellow eyes.

The two of us stood on opposite sides of the doorway staring at each other. To be fair he was probably as surprised by me as I was by him.

“What the hell?” Nate’s voice sounded just as surprised as I felt.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Nick’s voice was mostly normal, but there was an odd, synthetic scratch behind the twang. “Who are you? And who sent you into this hellhole after me?”

Eventually common sense reasserted itself and I took a quick look around the cavernous mess hall before ducking into the dark office followed closely by Nate.

“Are you Nick Valentine?” The ex-soldier’s voice had lost some of its apprehension, replaced with a good bit of confusion.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Uh… Ellie asked us to help you.”

The detective’s glowing eyes narrowed. “Where’d you find Ellie?”

“At your agency in Fen- Diamond City. We needed some help but she said you were captured.”

While the two talked, I took a look around the office that had served as Valentine’s cell.

“So you hurried down here to help little old me on a whim?”

The only things of note were the large, wraparound desk in the center of the room with another terminal on it and a much larger, still ancient looking server set against the back wall.

“Well- no. Like I said, we’re looking for someone who can help us.”

A blueprint on one of the walls caught my attention. Exfil would be much easier if I knew this place’s layout.

“Help with?”

“A missing person. And finding the Institute.”

After a moment’s study a pang of disappointment slipped through the back of my mind; these prints were only for the immediate area.

“You and everybody else in this damned place.”

“Well? Will you help?”

I felt the detective’s eyes fall on me. “So who’s big, strong, and silent over there?”

Nate didn’t answer immediately; I glanced back to see him staring at me, a mixture of alarm and anger fighting over his expression.

“He’s the one who wiped out the people in here to get us to you.” His tone seemed like the ex-soldier was trying to inject the sentence with enough venom to kill me.

“Wiped out- you killed all the people Malone left here?”

I looked back at the pair and nodded.

The detective seemed both guarded and thoughtful as he studied me. “So who are you then?”

“Someone looking for help.”

“You’re looking for help? With what?”

My internal alarm started ringing around the same time Nate was asking for help, now it was blaring for me to get moving.

“We need to move if we don’t want a fight on the way out.”

The ex-soldier scoffed. “You sure you don’t want to shoot more people?”

Before I could respond, faint shouting and boots ringing on metal drifted through the mess hall and into the office. Shit. I glanced through the door again; they hadn’t snuck anyone into the mess while we were talking, so we still had time to prep.

“Too late.”

Both Nate and Valentine looked at me for a moment, confused, before the sound of approaching Triggermen was loud enough for them to recognize.

Nick spun toward the door. “Son of a-” He slipped out onto the walkway outside the office and grabbed one of the discarded submachine guns before hurrying back inside. “You two have a plan?”

Nate looked at me, eyes narrowed. “Shoot them?”

Some variation of that, yes.

“Stay behind me.”

The clammer of men pouring into the bottom floor of the mess hall stopped any response either of them may have had.

“Nicky! You still in there you son of a bitch?!” The voice had even more of that strange drawl every other Triggerman spoke with. Is it common around here? No one else I’ve talked to had it; maybe it’s something they do as a part of their gang?

And how is any of that important right now?

Right.

“Yeah I’m still here Skinny.”

“The hell do you think you’re doing? Got guys comin’ in here, shootin’ up all my boys. You got any idea how far this is gonna set me back?”

I peered through the circular window down into the cafeteria; there were at least a dozen men on the ground floor, probably more in adjoining rooms, but none on the second floor or walkway outside. That left a lot of options.

“I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your two timing dame Skinny.”

These people’s tendency to talk instead was something I could get used to. If I could get back down to the second floor, I would have perfect cover and as much mobility as I ever wanted.

“Awww… poor little Valentine.” This was a new voice, a woman, again with that same strange twang and drawl. “Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I’ll just run back home to daddy, shall I?”

I turned back to the other two. “Stay here, keep them talking.”

Valentine nodded. “You know it doesn’t need to be like this Skinny, let us go and we’ll leave you alone.”

I crawled out back onto the walkway and hurried toward the staircase.

“It doesn’t gotta be like this Nicky? You trying to walk after killing all my boys? Fat chance, only way you get outta here is in a bag. You and whoever you got in there with ya.”

Just as I made it to the stairs Nate decided to complicate things again. “Look… uh, Skinny, he’s being serious when he says we don’t want any more trouble. You don’t need to lose any more people do you?”

My jaw clenched as I came up into a crouch and began down the stairs. He really thinks he can talk his way out of this? Not only was he being delusional, but if we left these people alive, they would be free to come after us later. On top of that, these Triggermen were the best fight I’ve had since waking up.

“Yeah? And who the fuck are you?”

“I’m one of the people who came here to rescue Nick.”

“So you’re one of the bastards who did this? And you’re lookin’ to get let go now?”

“No, I never fired a shot. The other guy I’m here with did all this and he’s going to kill you and the rest of your men if you don’t let us go.” The ex-soldier’s tone bordered on pleading.

Pathetic.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and slipped toward the entrance we had used. At least he didn’t say where I am. Not that it was much of a comfort; I could feel my irritation creeping again.

“Oh yeah? You’re threatening me now?”

“No Skinny”, Valentine replied, “He’s trying to warn you. I don’t want this to go any further south. Skinny, we go back way too far for you to get put in the ground like this.”

“He’s right, I’m trying to save you and your men.”

“C’mon Skinny, there’s only a few of ‘em. Let’s take these bastards out for what they did to your boys!” Hmm, it sounded like whoever he was with might have been the one actually in charge.

“Don’t worry Darla, I’m handling this. Skinny’s always got things under control. Now that we got a good thing goin, there’s no way I’d ever let some private dick shut us down.”

I glanced back at the office’s window-

Nate was standing it in, holding his rifle up, pointing at the men gathered in the mess hall. He was far enough away they wouldn’t be able to see him… was he telling me to aim down at them? Why would I expose myself to that many armed enemies?

“Please just listen to me; enough people have died today, don’t you think? I’m going to come out with my hands up. You shoot me, I promise you, the other guy will get Nick out of here one way or another. I’m trying to save your lives.”

… You can’t be that dumb. You can’t be…

My mind was having trouble processing what was going to happen; Nate was about to willingly open himself up to over a dozen men who wanted to put a bullet in him, and in doing so he was forcing me to cover him.

Maybe I should shoot him instead and get it over with.

The thought was enticing, probably more than it should have been, but it felt wrong. It put me in another bind; if I didn’t play along, he’d walk out and get shot anyways.

We’re back here… I told you not to do this again.

He backed away from the window. “I’m coming out.”

The only thing that would keep him alive is the threat I pose.

He’s the one coming up with this bullshit plan on the fly.

He’s trying to save people.

By putting us all at risk.

There’s nothing I can do to stop him at this point. They’re clearly nervous; they don’t know if what he’s saying is true and they aren’t calling him on it. Now the only way we all walk out of here is to play along.

… God damn it. Why… Why do I keep covering for this asshole? Why do I keep putting myself in unnecessary danger to keep him alive?

I slipped to the edge of the walkway and took aim. One of the men, standing near the rear of the mess, was dressed in a black suit and hat. A woman in a tattered dress was beside him.

So those must be the two who have been talking.

Nate emerged from the office, rifle dangling on its sling and his hands in the air.

“See? I’m not here to fight anyone.” He pointed at me. “That’s the guy you have to worry about.”

The suited man, Skinny Malone apparently, and his companion turned to me, both scowling. The now customary surprise played out across both of their faces. It was quickly joined with unease and fear.

Every instinct screamed at me to pull the trigger. This is stupid; intimidation tactics have a time and place. Standing in front of a bunch of angry men with guns isn’t it.

“You the one who killed all my boys?”

Am I supposed to start talking with this guy now? This was so far outside of my SOP my mind could barely come up with objections.

I gave a hesitant nod, but my trigger finger twitched at the same time. It was almost yearning to be put to work.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps sensing the more Malone tried to talk with me, the more likely I would be to put a round through that ridiculous hat, Nate decided to reinsert himself. “He’s working with me to get Nick back to Diamond City.”

“You two Brotherhood? What do the Brotherhood want with Valentine?” The gangster’s voice had taken on a distinct nervousness. The men around him, and even the woman seemed to share the sentiment.

… There’s no way this works.

If the quick look of realization that flashed across the ex-soldier’s face was anything to judge by, he’d picked up on that too and found his path forward.

“Our business with him isn’t your concern, I’m just trying to keep you from making a mistake and losing the rest of your men.”

“How’d you find us?” The nervousness had morphed into full blown concern.

“Skinny… why does any of this matter?” Nate’s voice had lost the borderline desperation it had when he first jumped into the conversation. Hell it was almost condescending. “We are willing to leave without any more fighting.”

“Maybe I don’t want that. Maybe I think the Brotherhood needs to keep its nose out of other people’s business. Maybe I send your heads back to them as a message.”

“You know you’d lose that fight; the man back there just got finished wiping out a band of Raiders two days ago. Now he walks through your men to get to Nick?”

Malone hesitated, looking back to me before returning his glare to Nate. He was in a corner and he knew he couldn’t call the bluff (not that it would matter, he’d still die).

“Nicky.”

“Yeah Skinny?”

“How’d you get involved with the Brotherhood.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before the detective answered. “I keep my clients’ business confidential.”

The suited man glanced between Nate and I again. “Ah… Dammit… Fine. Get outta here before I change my mind.”

… What? My mind had to replay what he said several times before it registered. That worked? How the hell did that work?

The brief look of surprise on Nate’s face said he was thinking the same thing. “Good decision.”

He and Valentine exited the office and joined me on the second floor. We wordlessly made our way back out of the Vault. I noticed the detective glancing at the Triggermen’s bodies along the way.

Despite my best effort to stay focused on potential ambushes or traps, I couldn’t keep my mind from boggling at what had just happened. What had just happened? How the hell had Nate bluffed his way through that? I mean- us being a part of the Brotherhood or not didn’t matter in a fight, but without knowing much about them, he’d managed to use their fear of the group to get out without firing a shot. I should be irritated, but the emotion couldn’t work its way past the confusion and surprise.

And then there was Valentine… besides the obvious. He’d picked up on what the ex-soldier had been trying to do well enough to play along.

We emerged from the subway into the morning light, sun just rising above the jagged, collapsing skyline that had once been Boston.

“So you two care to tell me what’s going on?” The detective’s voice was guarded, but he couldn’t hide the undertone of confusion.

I turned back to the other two as they exited the double doors.

“Ellie asked us to look for you”, Nate replied. The ex-soldier sounded dazed, like he was as shocked his ridiculous play worked as I was.

“We don’t have enough to pay for something like that.” He looked at me. “Especially from people like you.”

“We’ve got a few things we need help with.”

“Such as?”

I cut in before Nate could respond. “Later. We need to get back to Diamond City first.”

“Damon, he des-”

“When. We. Get. Back.”

My voice was clipped, but I couldn’t find the exasperation to load. Despite that, Nate still stiffened; he knew what he did would annoy me, probably more than anything he’d done to this point. The smaller man was clearly outright scared of me now, but he didn’t know I was more surprised than irritated.

I didn’t know how to feel about someone who knew me relatively well being afraid of me. Sure I’d scared plenty of people before, enemies and allies… but Nate being terrified of me hurting or killing him at any point was… uncomfortable.

Despite that, he kept clashing with me. I guess it spoke to how determined he was.

The others in Sanctuary had been afraid, at first, but it felt like they grew more comfortable over time, especially after the Raider attack. Strange… that fight, and now this one seemed to have the opposite effect on Nate.

“Okay.”

Chapter 7: Hunting the Hunter (Sort Of)

Notes:

Accostings from the domain of strange mashups that probably shouldn't exist. As I went back through what I've posted thus far I realized that I, quite unintentionally, gave Damon a similar demeanor to Goblin Slayer (I'm a nerd, fight me). I feel like I'm kind of complimenting myself by saying that, I think GS is a very well written character but the comparison might be a little optimistic. Anyway, it's time to get after Kellogg (and screw the story up... but you'll see what I mean). Enjoy!

I led them back through the brightening city ruins to Diamond City. This area seemed fairly clear; maybe it was because the civilians operated in this area? Whatever the case may be, there were no incidents on our short journey back through the collapsing buildings.

Awaiting us were the crowds once we entered the stadium.

I would have preferred fighting my way out of the Vault.

Valentine's pace slowly increased as we neared his small office, the eagerness evident in his body language. Or at least I thought it was; I still have no idea what the detective is.

Synth?

Possibly, but considering I had exactly zero information on what a Synth actually is, it was just a guess.

Once we reached the shack tucked away from the marketplace, he burst inside.

"Ellie?"

I reached the door in time to see the woman look up from the desk, wide eyed astonishment on her face.

"Nick?" The secretary's voice was barely above a whisper as they stared at each other for a long moment. Eventually, she stood from the desk. "Oh my god! Nick! You're alive!"

She rushed forward and jumped into his arms.

The detective laughed. "Of course I am. You think I can't handle Skinny and his boys?"

Ellie pulled away from him and glanced at me. "No, that's why they had to come save you."

"Right…" He looked back at me as well. "Where did you find these guys?"

"They came in yesterday looking for you. They said they weren't from around here and need help."

"Yeah", he looked at me again. "You mentioned something about that. Look, I'm more than happy to lend you my talents, but would you mind giving me an hour or so to unwind? Being held hostage for two weeks can get a guy on edge."

As much as I wanted to say no, I at least knew enough about high stress situations to know forcing him to help wouldn't be productive.

I nodded.

A strange cough from behind me drew my attention to Nate. He looked like he wanted to protest, but didn't say anything.

"Thanks, come by in a little while and we'll get down to business."

A half hour later I found myself sitting in the stands, checking my equipment. My shields took a few hits, nothing made it through to armor, and my rifle hadn't had enough ammo run through it to need cleaning, but the post-op routine was at least familiar.

Nate was sitting a half dozen meters away with the dog, having retrieved him from Ellie, diligently studying everything but me. It reminded me of how he'd behaved after the Raider attack, but this time he was clearly upset.

In all honesty that wasn't my problem at this point; I'd felt uncomfortable about him being afraid of me, but the sentiment had passed. Besides, now that Valentine was able to help, I saw no reason to keep the ex-soldier around. Considering how scared he was of me, the protection I could provide didn't seem worth it for him either.

"You really don't know how to do anything else, huh?"

I looked up from the partially disassembled rifle and fixed him in my gaze.

"You just fight."

There was no point in responding; he knew the answer and I saw no reason to justify myself, especially given the circumstances. I didn't know why he was so concerned with it, he was trying to get his son back and I've gotten him closer to that than he would have ever gotten himself.

Most people aren't comfortable with killing.

I don't know that about this place; it seems like fighting for survival is part of the daily routine here.

The smaller man shifted uncomfortably. "You know, you could say something."

"Why?"

He huffed angrily. "Well, you just- between that little massacre and the one you had back in Sanctuary, you killed more people than I did in 16 years. Way more. And now you're just going to sit there like nothing happened?"

What else was I supposed to do? Why did it matter? The objective was to repel or eliminate the Raiders before, and now it was to extract Valentine.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know- some sort of response. Anything to suggest killing people means something, that it affects you. Hell, you looked like you were enjoying it."

Not particularly. I like a good fight, but nothing I've run into so far has been that. The Triggermen were far and away better than the Raiders, but they were still untrained gangsters at the end of the day. It wasn't as if they were the same type of challenge insurrectionists posed, not to mention the Covenant. No, that was completing the mission.

"It doesn't, it's a job."

His eyes shot wide and a strange grimace plastered itself onto his face. "So people's lives mean nothing to you? If you had to kill me to 'accomplish the mission' you wouldn't think twice?"

I cocked my head at the smaller man. Would I have regrets about killing him? I'd never given anything like that thought… if it was necessary for the operation, I did it. Who or what was in the way didn't concern me, just how to remove the obstacle.

Even so… I couldn't give a definite answer.

"Not sure. Do you plan on getting in my way?"

He hesitated a split second before shaking his head.

"Then you shouldn't worry."

An exasperated sigh exploded from the ex-soldier. "That isn't the point, you- you know what? Nevermind, you won't get it apparently."

I shrugged and resumed reassembling my rifle.

"Unbelievable."

Relative silence fell back over the stands, with only the bustling of the marketplace below breaking through its veil.

Nate's response was odd; I'd never met anyone who reacted like that to fighting. Maybe that was because the only people I've interacted with were ONI, ODST, or other SPARTANS, but what we did to complete an operation wasn't a point of contention; it was about whether or not we got it done.

I finished putting the pins back in the rifle's handguard and racked the bolt a few times to make sure it was functional.

No… that wasn't quite true; the ODST's I'd worked with before, they were upset about losing people during the operation. That was different though, those were their people they lost. As much as I thought they were wrong blaming me for the dead, I could understand the anger. The Raiders and Triggermen- that would be like getting upset about killing insurrectionists; it didn't make any sense, especially if they're trying to kill me too.

In all honesty, I'm not equipped to handle that type of internal debate; it isn't my job. I shrugged mentally, slipped a fresh magazine into my rifle and chambered a round slipping the sling back around my neck.

I had just as much reason to be upset with the ex-soldier; his antics put everyone's lives in danger. Did it 'save' the rest of the Triggermen? Yes, but it was an unnecessary risk and leaves a large, well equipped group of people that is now actively hostile. Removing the threat is always the correct choice in that situation.

No point in complaining about it now; once Valentine agrees to help, he won't be my problem anymore.

"You think Nick is a Synth?"

Nate was gazing toward where the detective's office was.

"Possibly."

"What else would he be?"

While I had wondered the same thing, it was obvious neither of us had a solid grasp of what this world's norms had to offer.

"There are a lot of things I still don't know."

"But given what we do it makes sense."

"Possibly."

He glanced at me.

"People's conversational skills usually improve the more time they spend around someone."

What about me says 'usual' to you?

"And?"

"Don't you think it's a problem the only interactions with people you're interested in is killing them?"

Oh, I'm not having this conversation with you.

I didn't respond, and eventually the smaller man huffed and returned his gaze to the collection of rickety buildings that used to be a field.

Times like these were always frustrating; I hated having too much time to think, and being around someone who enjoyed actively picking at me only made it worse. Now those questions were bouncing around my head maddeningly quickly. It wasn't the first time anyone has said something along those lines, and it wasn't the first time I'd thought about it. The answer was always the same though: I have a job to do, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it done. Right now the job is to get back to my reality.

But is that all that matters? Why shouldn't I think about it more?

Because it doesn't matter. Thinking about it always leads back to the Covenant attack, and that never helps.

Haven't I been hiding from that long enough?

What good would dredging that history up do?

Maybe help figure out why I don't think it matters.

Did the Covenant think it mattered? Did they care about who they were killing? How about Innies bombing civilian settlements? Did they care?

Image flashed through my head once again, this time it was new ones: the inside of a house… my house.

A spreading pool of blood.

The strange, metallic smell of blood clogging everything.

A group of Kig-Yar, Jackals, standing over…

They were standing over a mangled corpse, missing an arm. And a head.

They were standing over what was left of my father.

He'd been alive only moments ago. He was trying to protect us… Several dead Kig-Yar were laying just outside the front door.

But there had been too many.

And they sure as hell hadn't cared they'd just butchered my dad.

He was just trying to protect us, they were the ones who attacked; we'd never done anything to them.

They hadn't cared then, the universe didn't care about taking him from me. The images of what happened to my mom, or my older sister… they were still hiding in the swirling depths of a place I'd locked away.

But I knew they were dead too.

The Covenant hadn't cared they took everything from me. The universe hadn't cared it destroyed everything I knew. ONI hadn't cared I was some kid who'd seen their entire life literally torn apart, they just saw an opportunity. They turned me into a weapon and pointed me at whoever they felt deserved to be removed, and they didn't care who they were either.

So why the fuck should I care?

That same familiar anger took root in my mind, tinging those far too vivid images red.

Had I been what I am now, I would have killed every last one of them. I would have butchered every single Covenant asshole who came after us, torn them apart with nothing but my hands and rage. I've spent my fair share of time covered in blood, but that term doesn't do justice to what would have happened had I been there now.

… But I wasn't; I was just a useless kid, standing there, crying.

And those Covenant, those bastards who had destroyed my life, torn it apart with their bare hands and claws, even now, after I'd killed so many of their comrades, were still towering over me.

They. Didn't. Care.

My mind was a torrent of burning rage and ice cold certainty.

But it matters. What I do still matters.

The thought exploded through my head like a gunshot, piercing the veil of anger that had fallen over the world.

I should care.

And here I was again, this internal conversation that I explicitly tried to avoid, leading to the same place it always does.

And my answer was the same: if it doesn't help the mission, it doesn't matter. I'll leave the rest for everyone else to sort out.

I glanced at Nate, who was still staring into the marketplace, annoyed. He was aggravatingly good at dragging these memories out. Another reason to get the hell away from him.

Right now, my focus needed to be on Valentine and what he could do for me. As usual, this conversation wouldn't get me anywhere, so stow it and keep moving.

What was Valentine? Nate had suggested he was a Synth, which I'd thought about earlier, but it didn't make sense: if he was a Synth why was he living in a city that clearly didn't trust him?

What else could he be?

The name suggested Synths are some type of synthetic life. If these people thought Nate might be one, they were close enough to real people to be mistaken for one. Valentine certainly had human-like features, but there was no way someone would confuse him with a real person. Whoever had made him was certainly trying to imitate human characteristics, so it was possible he was an older version. That still begged the question: if he was a Synth, why would the people here trust him enough to allow him to stay?

There's too much about this I don't understand.

Though I knew the questions I had wouldn't answer themselves, I spent the remaining time until Valentine was ready, running through them over and over.

Eventually I stood and began back toward the small office, Nate in tow. He was still frustrated, but I couldn't be bothered to care at this point. My own aggravation notwithstanding, there was no reason to be concerned with it; I'd gotten what I needed out of him, he had what he needed from me, our arrangement was over.

Once we reached the shack, I rapped on the wooden and steel door. After a few seconds of silence, I heard a set of footsteps approaching the door and it swung open to reveal Ellie. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, but she was smiling broadly as she greeted us.

"Come on in, I think we've had enough time to catch up."

The secretary turned back toward the desk where Valentine was already seated.

I ducked into the cramped shack and followed her, Nate still behind me.

"Ah, my hero and his sidekick", Valentine called as we reached the desk, "take a seat and we'll get started." I couldn't help but wonder which of us he was calling 'hero'.

Nate maneuvered around me, carefully avoiding my gaze, and took one of the offered chairs. The detective cocked an… eyebrow at me as I remained standing. I'm not sure if he actually expected me to sit in the other chair; it looked like it might collapse on its own.

"Well let's start with the most obvious question shall we? Who are you two?"

The ex-soldier shifted, stealing a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "My name is Nate, I'm looking for my son."

Valentine nodded. "And what about your friend here?"

The other man declined to answer; I guess he was of the same mind. "Damon; I need to contact the Institute."

"Okay, that's what Ellie told me, but it doesn't answer my question. Neither of you are from around here and you", the Detective looked at me, "aren't anything I've seen before, and I've been around the block."

I shifted my weight but didn't respond. The fewer that know who and what I am the better.

After a short staring contest, Valentine gave up and returned to the man sitting in front of him. "Well, big, strong, and silent isn't talking, what about you?"

"That's par for the course. What do you want to know about me?"

"Where are you from?"

"Here." I couldn't see his face but I could hear the frown in the ex-soldier's voice. "Well… here before the war."

Valentine squinted. "Before the war? You don't look like any ghoul I've seen."

"I'm not, I was in a Vault. Speaking of… if you don't mind me asking what- what are you?"

"Oh me?" The detective offered a small smile. "I'm a Synth. Synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. Been out here on my own for a long time though. Don't remember anything about the Institute unfortunately."

That seems convenient.

"A Synth? I thought people around here didn't like Synths."

The Synth let out a mocking laugh. "They don't. Hell, they barely let me hang around until recently."

"So why don't you remember the Institute?"

"Don't know. Woke up in the middle of nowhere and that's where my memories begin." The detective shifted. "But enough about me, as much as I love trips down memory lane, you two interest me; I'd like to see what I can do for you." He looked at me. "If you're willing to cooperate."

Nate nodded.

How helpful would Valentine be finding the Institute if he didn't remember anything about it? Or was he lying about that?

"I know you're trying to find the Institute, but they're about as mysterious as it gets, even to me and they built me. I won't be able to lead you directly to them, but we may be able to track down some leads. That's going to be a lot of leg work, and digging around in areas I wouldn't risk… I'm assuming you can provide the muscle down the road."

I nodded.

"Okay then, for now let's focus on the missing person." His gaze returned to Nate. "When you're trying to find them, the devil is in the details. Tell me everything you can, no matter how… painful it might be."

Nate's shoulders sagged. "Shaun… he-he was less than a year old. Why would anyone take him?"

The detective nodded. "A good question. You said you were in a Vault? Was he taken from the Vault?"

"He was."

"So this was targeted, they were after you, but why your family in particular, and why an infant?" The detective's voice was strange, almost like someone trying to hold a conversation while concentrating on a difficult task. "Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it… What else can you tell me?"

"My wife was-" The ex-soldier's voice broke. He sounded the same as he had when I met him, and when he first saw Diamond City. His voice was thick with pain and emotion. It was something I could relate to, but given the circumstances I didn't understand; it wouldn't help him here.

"My wife was… murdered. She was trying to keep them from taking Shaun and they… they just…"

"It's okay", Ellie jumped in before he could finish. "You don't need to say anything more."

Valentine nodded again. "So we're talking about a group of cold-hearted killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. That confirms it. This isn't a random kidnapping. Whoever took your kid had an agenda." He paused for a moment in thought. "Hmm… There's a lot of groups in the Commonwealth that take people. Raiders, Super Mutants, the Gunners." He glanced at me. "And of course there's the Institute. Them and the Gunners would be the only large group with the organization to pull something like that off, and the Gunners don't have the knowhow to do it."

The ex-soldier cocked his head. "So you think the Institute is responsible?"

"Well… they are the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them."

The more I hear about these people, the more like ONI they are. Do I want their help?

If they can make synthetic intelligence, that's probably the closest I'll get to UNSC technology; they may be my only chance.

Even so… getting away from ONI was one of the positives to being reassigned to a SPARTAN IV unit.

And that doesn't matter right now.

"It's easy to see why. Those early model Synths of theirs stripped whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way." Nate stole a glance at me out of the side of his eye. "Then you got the newer models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows."

Yeah… that's ONI. Or at least their version of it.

I was never involved in anything of those, but there were several operations I had POC's in colonial leadership positions. It wasn't often, but it made me extremely uneasy; they were just as likely to turn me over to the Innies their colonies were harboring, but at the same time, it meant people in those colonies were always being watched by the same set of eyes that were at my back. Neither of us ever had the chance to escape from them, no matter how far we went.

I guess that's one thing I had in common with those people.

"What do you mean 'infiltrate'?"

"Find their way in, become a part of the population, maybe even become a town leader or mayor. Worst part is no one knows their motives, not even me." Valentine frowned. "This speculation is getting us off track; tell me more about the kidnappers."

"Well… one of them, a woman, was wearing…. I think she was dressed in some kind of hazard suit. The man… had some sort of metal brace on his arm."

"Maybe some kind of improvised armor? A lot of hired guns do that to look tough." He frowned again. "The hazard suit is interesting, not many nerds can afford something that fancy. What else can you tell me."

I may not have known much of the situation, but considering the circumstances it seemed like the Institute was the most likely culprit. They had advanced (for these people) equipment, specifically targeted someone in a secured fallout shelter, and were able to gain entry to the sealed facility.

The Triggermen were in a Vault.

That Vault was still under construction. It was possible this was chance, but it didn't seem likely.

"The bastard-" Nate voice turned to ice as his shoulders stiffened. "The bastard who murdered Nora- who murdered my wife. I'll never forget that voice, low and rough, like sandpaper running across your face. The gun he shot her with, I didn't get a good look, but the sound… it was so loud, it ha- it had to be something big."

"So a large caliber handgun, probably a revolver… a tough and commanding voice can get you far in the violence business. It isn't much to go on though; is there anything else you can tell me?"

"The man… the one who shot her- he came right up to me. Bald head. Scar across his left eye."

Valentine leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. Apparently he knew who that was.

"Wait… you didn't hear the name 'Kellogg' did you?"

"No." Nate shook his head. "No names."

"Hmm… it's way too big of a coincidence…" The detective turned to his secretary. "Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?"

She glanced down at the clipboard she was holding. "The description matches. Bald head. Scar. Reputation for doing dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is."

Oh? Dangerous mercenary work… if he has a rap sheet with someone like Valentine and a reputation for hard jobs, he's probably been at it for a while. That sounded like someone who could put up a good fight, and if he's connected with the Institute…

But I could already see this leading to another problem: this is all with respect to searching for Nate's kid.

"And he bought a house here in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?"

Ellie nodded. "Yeah, that's right. The house was in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was about 10 years old."

The ex-soldier bolted upright, back ramrod stiff. "You said he still lives here? He's still in town?"

Valentine held up his hands. "Slow down… they both vanished a while back, if I'm remembering right, but that house is still there…"

Silence swelled in the small office as the detective paused. It was obvious where this was going, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated the situation. My best lead to finding the Institute still involved Nate. Now there was a bad joke.

If I'm going to keep saying 'it doesn't matter how the mission is accomplished' I can't complain about this.

Oh I can complain about it alright; Nate was going to get himself killed at some point. If I'm not careful, he could drag me with him. If I'm going after a reputable mercenary, I couldn't have him ad libbing and trying to talk him down.

Oh please, has there been anything worth worrying about so far?

Not really, but it only takes one.

Eventually, Valentine removed himself from his musings and stood. "Let's you and I take a walk to Kellogg's last known address. See if we can snoop out where he went."

Ellie frowned. "Security doesn't really go to that part of town, but you two should still be careful." Her concern was palpable.

The detective smirked. "I always am…" He looked at me. "Besides, aren't you going to come too? This is probably going to be your best bet to find the Institute."

Nate stood and glanced at me, expression equal parts curiosity and fear.

So he still wanted to tag along, at least in part.

I already knew the answer, but that didn't make it any less annoying to say.

"For now."

"Good", Valentine replied through a smile. "See Ellie a Synth and…" he motioned at me, "whatever the hell he is, everyone will be too afraid to come within 100 feet of us. We'll be fine."

"Uh huh."

"We'll be back soon."

I followed the two, and Nate's dog, out into the afternoon light of the cramped alley. Valentine led us toward the west side of the stadium where several larger structures were constructed on stilts and gantries.

As we walked up the pathways, the wooden planks and thin steel supports groaned worryingly under my equipment's weight, but they held.

Some small portion of my mind found the capacity to entertain at least a bit of excitement; I finally had some form of lead on the Institute. The rest was quick to remind me there were no guarantees this would take me anywhere. And I'd be dragging Nate along with me too, if I decided to go this route.

I glanced at the ex-soldier; he was following closely behind Valentine, stiff and quiet. Is there a way I can pursue Kellogg without carrying a liability like him with me? I could tolerate him slowing me down, but his interference in the Vault was going to get one or both of us killed.

He is looking for his son.

My mind raced, trying to come up with an objection. His son would probably be dead or unreachable after this point.

If I can get to the Institute, wouldn't I be able to get him there too?

And why am I worrying about this now?

It's the right thing to do… besides, wouldn't I want this if I were his son?

… My family is dead.

And if they weren't.

They are.

My internal argument was cut short as we turned onto a gantry that ended at another cobbled together structure. Like everything else here, it was pitted wood beams, particle board, and corrugated steel slashed together into a cube. To its credit, this was the largest one I'd seen so far.

Nate tried to push the door open before glancing down. "Do you know how to pick a lock?"

Valentine joined him at the door and knelt to study their query.

Do we need to do this non-destructively? If this guy is as good as Valentine says, he'd know we were here either way.

"I could if I had enough time, but this is a pretty serious piece of kit. We might be off getting a key from the mayor."

"The mayor?"

"He has spares for all buildings."

… I'm not that patient

"How would we get one from him?"

"Very carefully."

I approached the two. "Back up."

"You know how to pick a lock", the detective asked as they turned to me.

"No."

"The idea is to not draw attention. Kicking the door in isn't 'not drawing attention'."

"I just need to break the lock."

"True… and how do you plan on doing that?"

Is it going to turn into a debate every time I do something?"

"Very carefully."

"I'd feel-"

"Just take watch."

Valentine squinted at me, but before he could respond, Nate inserted himself into the conversation. "He isn't going to say anything else Nick. Let's go."

The ex-soldier stalked back toward the gantry followed by Valentine after he stole a quick glance between the two of us.

The door was wooden with a steel door frame. The easiest way to open the door would probably be to tear it straight from the door. This was something I'd seen before: high quality locks on poorly secured doors. It's something I've never understood.

I braced my left hand against the doorframe and forced my right hand into the door jam just over the lock. Once I was able to get a grip on the door's interior I pulled.

It wasn't more than a half second before the wooden door let go and I came away with a handful of plywood. I ripped another chunk of wood from around the lock before grabbing the broken edge and pulled the door open.

I walked into the dark interior, rifle up. Valentine had said the mercenary had been gone for a while, but I wasn't taking any risks.

The shack's interior was bare except for a cluttered desk in the center flanked by an unstable looking staircase that led to a loft above, a couch and table in the opposite corner, and a worn down chair to my left. Fortunately, there wasn't much a person would be able to hide behind. The platform above was just high enough to prevent me from seeing over the edge, but the stairs would probably collapse if I tried to climb them.

As I finished clearing the first floor, the others entered behind me.

"Check upstairs."

"You can't", Nate asked in that same mocking tone.

Do I really have to drag this guy along?

"No." I looked pointedly at the staircase. "Those stairs wouldn't hold me."

"Right."

While he climbed into the loft, I looked around the building's interior. Something felt… off. This room was much larger than the inside of Valentine's office, but… it didn't seem like it matched the structure's exterior.

"This can't be all of it." I turned to see the detective studying the room as well. So he was thinking the same thing.

Valentine continued looking around until his eyes settled on the wall to the right of the entrance. "Is it me, or should there be more room over there?"

"It's clear up here."

Neither of us responded to the ex-soldier as we stood in front of the wall in question. My mind served up an image of the building's front; the door had been near the middle of the structure, yet it was maybe a meter from this wall. There should have been another two or three meters here.

I pounded on the wall, my gauntleted hand producing a hollow boom. The exterior walls were thin, but not that thin.

Valentine nodded. "Yep, there's something on the other side here."

"What's going on", Nate asked as he climbed down from the loft.

"Look for a switch, button, pressure plate… something to open a hidden door; there's a room on the other side of this wall.

"... Why?"

I began searching the wall for any circuits, seams for a hidden door, or rails for a sliding section of wall.

"There's a room behind that wall."

"Like- we're talking about a secret room? Are we in a spy movie now?"

"This is probably the Institute- ah, I think this is something."

As he spoke, a click came from behind me and, following a gentle hiss, the wall split open as part of it slid away. Behind it was another room maybe a third the size of the main area, this one a store room, walls lined with shelves full of supplies. An overstuffed leather chair sat in the middle along with a small table covered in bullets and an ashtray.

"Yeah… we're definitely in a spy flick now." Nate's voice had an odd element of wonder that took the place of at least some anxiety he'd been carrying for the past day.

"Gotta give him credit, Kellogg knows how to make an impression." Valentine walked past me into the new room. "Doesn't look like he's boobytrapped the place."

I followed him into our new discovery. There was plenty of food and water on the shelves; that could prove useful. The boxes of ammunition that sat on the rearmost shelf along with the consumables hidden away behind a secret door said this guy was using this as a safehouse. I doubted he would leave the place like this if he'd bugged out.

"How long has Kellogg been gone?"

Valentine glanced at me. "Don't know… he was here when I left for Vault 114, so less than two weeks I guess." He looked around the room. "You think he might be on a job?" The detective had ostensibly asked me, but it sounded like he was thinking aloud. "Hmm… I wonder…"

The Synth strode to the rear of the room and pulled a small cabinet from under a shelf. "Guys like Kellogg are good, but it makes them predictable." He pulled the front of the cabinet open. "If he is working with the Institute, no way he doesn't have insurance readily available."

While he sifted through the contents, Nate began searching the shelves. Valentine was convinced this guy was a top tier gun for higher; I'd fought plenty, even hunted a group of them down once. This didn't seem right. The high security lock, hidden supply room, and stowed material, yet no intrusion countermeasures? No traps, no incendiary devices, no explosives?

"Bingo."

My attention shifted from potential land mines to the detective. He was looking at a map of some sort.

"Looks like we have operational locations… hmm…" Valentine stood and walked back into the main room with what looked like a rudimentary map. He placed his find on the desk and glared at it. "This doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

I followed Nate over to the detective. The map was clearly of the area with several circled locations accompanied by short labels for each.

"The landmarks are wrong." I looked at Nate who was studying the map too.

Valentine's eyes darted from the desk to the ex-soldier. "You're right, notice anything in particular?"

"Yeah… some of these are reversed." He pointed at one of the circled locations. "This one says Arcjet, but it's where Fort Hagen should be, and vice versa. Same with the police station and the Airport. There's a lot more… why would they be reversed?"

Arcjet? That's where the Brotherhood was going. We're they engaging the Institute there?

The Synth pointed at a few other labels. "Not all of them are, most places look like they have the right names."

"Some of these are written in different colors too, only the flipped ones."

My eyes roamed over the different landmarks as they spoke; it was difficult to tell what was what when I didn't know the area.

"Blue… green… purple… yellow… re- that's weird… is this…?" The ex-soldier's eyes widened. "Hold on, this is old school map encoding. We- we trained with these in case we had to take missions with no support or comms. This is exactly the same keying we used- that bastard- he's at Fort Hagen, or something important is there."

Him drawing a conclusion that quickly had me curious. "How do you know?"

The smaller man looked up at me. "Flipping landmarks means high value, different colors are the types of location; Hagen is yellow, that means control or command."

Valentine shook his head. "So Kellogg used a centuries old cypher to encode his map… he's one clever bastard."

Their reasoning was… sound, but it didn't indicate Kellogg would be at the installment, just that it was a stronghold.

One step at a time. If Fort Hagen is occupied, chances are I'll find something useful.

"Are the distances here accurate?"

Nate went back to the map. "Looks like it; Hagen is about 15 miles from here." That made it an almost four hour hump with no delays. "We can make that today."

"Whoa." Valentine held his hands out. "Look, I know you're eager to get after them, but getting yourself killed ain't gonna do your kid any good."

"No. I can't let them get any further."

Which means if I do decide to bring you, you'd be more of a liability.

"From what you've told me, you've been fighting nonstop since you got out of the Vault. As difficult as it is, and believe me, I've had my fair share of missing persons cases, you have to give yourself time to recover."

"The longer I wait, the harder this is going to be." Nate glanced at me. "We can handle this."

We? My ire flared again. You're assuming I'm going to carry your ass until you get your kid back? Especially after the shit you pulled in the Vault? Then there were the memories he kept dredging up…

"I didn't volunteer."

The ex-soldier's eyes widened. "What are-

"You're expecting me to handle the fighting and cover for you; I never volunteered for that."

"But-"

"I also remember you taking issue with how I do things."

A flash of recognition and disgust crossed his face as whatever emotions he'd buried under the determination resurfaced. "So what do you want then?"

"You don't have anything to offer."

"This is your best chance at finding the Institute."

I nodded to the map. "I know where their forces might be, that's as much as you know." The ex-soldier blanched and followed my gaze to the desk.

It was a few seconds before Nate looked back up at me, but when he did, his expression had changed. "You aren't leaving me behind. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have gotten this far."

"I fulfilled my end of our agreement."

"I don't mean to intrude on this … disagreement", Valentine said slowly, "you two are heading in the same direction." He turned to me. "Why ditch him?"

"Because he's a liability."

The ex-soldier gaped at me. "A liability? Because I'm not some fucking monster who's only solution to a problem is killing people?"

Is calling me a monster supposed to be an insult? Join the club.

"Did you know the Triggermen would cooperate?"

"No bu-"

"You put everyone in danger because you didn't want their blood on your hands." Even though I would have been the one fighting. "Playing nice when there are no rules will get you killed. I'm not getting caught in the crossfire."

The ex-soldier's unease and anger were back in full force, breaking through the excitement of the last half hour. He stared at me wide eyed, jaw set, and muscles taut.

"Look", Valentine said, voice exploding into the tense silence like a gunshot, "Nate, much as I hate to say it, this isn't the pre-war world. Kellogg and the Institute won't be talked down. Neither will Raiders, Supermutants, Ferals, or any of the other threats we have in this wonderful city. I want to help, but if you want to chase your son across the Commonwealth, you're going to need to understand what that means." He motioned at me. "He seems like a mean son of a bitch, but he also seems very good at keeping the people he wants alive breathing."

I'd say I'm better at making the people I want dead stop breathing; two sides of the same coin.

I couldn't help but think Valentine was trying to force me to carry him along.

"You're taking his side?"

"It ain't about sides, it's about surviving. It's something you learn after a few years of living here… if you make it that long." The detective looked back at me. "That being said, you'd be smart to take him. Travelling alone is a bad idea, no matter how deadly you are. Take it from someone who does that for a living."

Why does everyone want me to babysit this guy?

"I'll be better off alone."

Valentine frowned. "You aren't kidding about not wanting to help him, huh?"

"Not if it makes things more dangerous."

Nate's eyes narrowed. "Fort Hagen is the best lead I have to get my son back. I'm going."

A throat clear drew my attention back to Valentine. "Before we get any further into this productive back and forth, I'd like to suggest a solution." I nodded. "You and I head out there."

The ex-soldier grunted. "I already said-"

"I know you want to go yourself, I get it", the Synth motioned at me, "but he's our only chance to take down Kellogg, especially if he has Institute backup.

"So then why do you need to go?" Nate practically spat the question.

It was obvious; I'm a soldier, not an investigator. He wanted me to handle the fighting while he looked for information on how to move forward. As long as he wouldn't interfere with the fighting side of that relationship unlike the ex-soldier, it was… palatable.

"To make sure we get the leads we need from this little field trip."

"You just want me to, what, sit on my ass? When the bastard who killed my wife is within my reach."

"Look friend, Kellogg isn't someone you take lightly. He's dangerous, maybe the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth. I'm sure you can handle yourself, but this guy's been killing people for a long time."

"I was in the Army for most of my adult life." Nate's voice slowly climbed while he spoke.

"Like I said: this is a different world."

The ex-soldier threw his hands up. "This is my fight. Not his." At this point he was practically shouting. "Kellogg killed my wife. It doesn't mean anything if some psychopath who doesn't care about mass murder is the one to put him in the fucking ground. It's just another body on the pile for this bastard." He waved an arm at me.

There was a grain of truth to what he said; killing my first Sangheili had felt great, empowering. Now… they were all just a part of the job. Unfortunately, I couldn't begrudge him that emotion, that need to get back at Kellogg.

"Well, what's more important to you: dying for revenge or getting your son back?"

"I'm not some goddamn invalid who needs other people to do his work for him. I. Can. Handle. It."

"And if you can't? What happens then? Why wouldn't you take the damn near guarantee." He pointed at me. "Unless you care more about killing Kellogg than you do saving your son."

"I- it…" Nate faltered, looking from the detective to me and back. A pang of sympathy flashed by; revenge is something I can understand. I was too young to take it from the Covenant who attacked my home. Things like that couldn't factor into operational decisions though, and if letting him have that revenge involved dragging him through another, potentially more dangerous firefight, I'm not playing along.

Isn't it hypocritical for him to lecture me about 'valuing human life' just a little while ago when he's aching to kill this guy?

"Stay here with Ellie, let us handle this."

Nate's mouth worked open and closed; I could see the gears whirring furiously trying to come up with a retort.

"What about you?" Valentine looked at me. "Is that okay with you."

Valentine probably wouldn't be that useful in a fight; he knew how to handle himself, but at some point, numbers win. He'd already ceded that responsibility to me. The detective would be an invaluable asset for information too.

"As long as you don't get in the way during a fight."

He chuckled. "I didn't get to see you in action, but I saw the results of your handiwork; your bad side is the last place I want to be."

"Agreeable."

"Good." The detective's gaze settled back on Nate, nervous. "Can you work with this?"

He sneered, mainly at me. "You aren't giving me a choice."

There's a reason for that.

"I can't relate to what you're going through, but I promise, if there's anything there that will lead you to your son, I'll find it."

The day was beginning to fade into evening by the time we were done in Kellogg's house. We'd taken as much from the hidden supply room as we could, within reason, and made our way back down the gantries and to the small shack that was the detective agency.

Nate radiated silent fury the entire time.

As much as it pained me to admit, I found some small piece of myself feeling sorry for the man. I knew that feeling: wanting- needing revenge, but unable to take it. The first time it reared its head… it had been a year or so into training, when I started to feel a part of the world around me again, finally. Something had been festering at the back of my mind for a while, but it wasn't obvious. We had been drilling squad tactics, specifically against the Covenant; that meant watching a lot of combat footage. During one of the drills, something snapped and I went after… what was his name? Julius? The oldest and largest kid in the program. I got my ass beat, was in the infirmary for three days. I had plenty of time to lay there, thinking, feeling how powerless I was. Hating every instant of it. Those Covenant bastards were still there, towering over my shaking, cowering body. I hated them for that; I hated I couldn't do anything about it.

If I'm being honest, I still do.

It doesn't matter now though, my target wasn't Covies, it's an Institute hired gun with a reputation for being extremely dangerous.

We deposited the supplies in the shack's side room.

"It might be a little late to head over to the fort now, besides, I have a policy to go at least one full day between being shot at. Sorry for not having enough beds."

Most times it felt more common for me to sleep in deep forests or sewers than in a bed, so the places I'd slept here so far have been damn near luxurious.

Nate shrugged. "I've spent plenty of nights on the floor, another one won't kill me." His voice had lost some of its venom, replaced by an almost automatic drone, but I could still feel the seething anger underneath, most of it directed at me.

If he was better at following orders I wouldn't be opposed to working with him; or at least bringing him along.

It didn't matter, at this point I was finding the Institute; if his son was tangentially related, that's for him to worry about.

"He's an expert in pretty much any type of combat, but the guy is known for setting traps and ambushes." Valentine looked around at the slowly brightening landscape as we walked through the suburbs of what had been Boston. The houses here were in even worse shape than the ones in concord; most were just piles of rubble on vacant, brown lots.

"Does he have any patterns?" The path we were taking had us on a regular trade route, so according to the detective, we wouldn't have to worry about being assaulted by one of the area's attackers or wild animals.

My head was still on a swivel.

"Not many I know of; he uses a .44 magnum revolver for gunfights up close, but I've heard stories about him being a crack shot with most long guns." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Guess those are to be expected if you're going to survive in his line of work."

As nice as it is to know as much about my target is, it wasn't a disappointment. Improvisation is usually more fun. However, one thing I was interested in learning…

"What kind of forces does the Institute deploy?"

Valentine chuckled. "That's a good question. Usually it's Gen 2 Synths, but if we're especially unlucky we'll run into a Courser."

I waited for more, but the detective didn't elaborate. That isn't useful information.

"Explain."

I caught him cocking an eyebrow out of my periphery.

"What do you want to know?"

"Physical capabilities, armament, tactics."

"Well… second generation Synths aren't too different from regular people when it comes to fighting. They have limited intelligence, so they won't do much on their own. Basically, they'll only do whatever Kellogg tells them to." He paused for a moment. "Most of those use basic laser weapons."

As we passed a collapsed apartment block, my mind brought up images of both the cobbled together 'musket' Preston used as well as the much more purpose built weapons the Brotherhood soldiers had. The Minuteman's weapon was a product of his environment, making whatever he had work; the Institute would most likely use something more similar to the Brotherhood's armament.

"And Coursers?"

"They're different; those bastards are third gens, but… more. The gen threes are impossible to tell apart from a regular person, and then the Institute went and suped these ones up: stronger, faster, smarter, better trained- or programmed I guess I should say, and ruthless. From what I've heard they spend most of their time hunting down rogue Synths in part because they're very good at not dying."

I glanced down at the detective. "Does that mean I need to worry about one hunting you?"

Valentine shook his head. "Don't know why, but the Institute has left me alone for a long time now."

Why do they have Kellogg on their payroll if they have purpose built soldiers?

"What does Kellogg do for the Institute then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Does Kellogg give them something Coursers can't?"

"He-" the Synth paused again. "That's a good question…"

We walked through the crumbling suburbs in silence as the question hung in the air. It would make sense for the Institute to use him while their regular forces didn't have the ability to reason and strategize themselves, but it sounded like they'd fixed that problem. If they have the capacity to make even more effective models…

"How often do you come across information about Kellogg?"

"Not very often, especially not lately, but it used to be consistent at least; maybe one or two times a year. Him moving into Diamond City was the first I'd heard about him in a while."

"Did you stop hearing about him around the same time Coursers were deployed?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't tell you for sure but… you're suggesting the Coursers replaced him, so if we really are looking for Kellogg, there's a specific reason. Him moving into Diamond city, especially with a kid in tow, and leaving suddenly wouldn't happen by chance. He left about three weeks ago…" He fell into silence again, thinking.

I had a feeling I already knew where this was going; there was no way the Institute could know Nate would remember Kellogg specifically, but they knew he'd been there and the ex-soldier had probably seen him. If Kellogg left three weeks ago, that put him two weeks ahead of Nate thawing out. There are a lot of variables in play, but if they assumed the ex-soldier would look for his son, he would probably come into contact with the mercenary at some point.

"They want Nate to hunt him."

"I was just about to say the same thing. Nate said he woke up about a week ago?" I nodded. "So this is a set up. Question is, who is it a set up for?"

With the parties in play, it was him, Kellog, or both. It wouldn't make sense for them to want Nate dead, or if they did there were much easier and faster ways to go about it. That ruled out 'both' by proxy, so did they want to eliminate Kellogg? Again, there were easier ways to do that, unless they wanted to make it look like a job gone wrong.

"If they wanted Nate dead, they would have done it while he was still a popsicle. That means they wanted him to find Kellogg…" The detective stopped. "I don't like this." I turned to him. "We're being led along." I cocked my head. "Think about it: if they just wanted to off Kellogg, sure he's a tough SOB, but the Coursers would be more than capable of handling him. Someone at the Institute wants Nate to find his way to them, and they want him to put their hired gun in the ground along the way."

"Why wouldn't they contact him directly?"

"Don't know… you're asking me to speculate about the most mysterious group in the Commonwealth there, not like I have much experience with them."

"They're sure he'd be able to do it?"

"There's no way they'd know about you?" I shook my head. If this was set up at least two weeks in advance, I hadn't even dropped into Concord yet. "Then they must know about his past, his time in the Army- do they know about him from before the war?"

The alarm started going off in my head again. "We need to keep moving." I began walking and the detective followed.

"If they knew about the Vault, and targeted his family specifically, it stands to reason they'd know about his history." I felt his eyes on the back of my head. "And then you show up. Seems like a massive wrench is about to be thrown into the works."

Yep.

"Well… at least we'll be doing the first part of their plans, but still why Kellogg? And why let Nate go after him? To let him get revenge? That just doesn't make any sense."

While it may have been interesting, it wasn't mission essential, so I'd leave that speculation to him. Knowing I was walking into a controlled situation was what I needed. My job was to make it a little less controlled for whoever had set this up.

"Unless someone has it out for Kellogg and knows Nate would have the motivation to go through with killing him." He paused for a moment. "He seemed pretty upset about you killing the Triggermen, do you think he would have a problem putting Kellogg down?"

I glanced at the Synth. "Why?"

"Is it possible they don't want Kellogg dead? If someone in the Institute set this up, it would have to be high level; would someone like that want to kill Kellogg like this?"

I shrugged. "With what it sounds like he does, it isn't hard to make enemies."

"Even among your allies?"

Faces flashed through my mind, regs, ODST's, even some of my handlers. Their expressions ranged anywhere from distrustful to downright hateful; them being allies didn't mean anything. "Especially among allies."

"You have experience with that?"

Really? I didn't respond.

"Yeah", Valentine said after a few seconds, "that was a pretty lame attempt, too direct. You strike me as the type of guy who needs a bit more finesse."

No, I don't like anyone asking about it.

After a few more minutes of walking through the decrepit, crumbling suburb, we came across a large building, or what used to be one, scattered across a massive lot. It must have been a school, or community center. Several emaciated dogs roamed through what was left of the structure, none as well kept as Nate's German Shepard. They noticed us immediately and retreated into the collapsed building.

Valentine cleared his throat (is that something robots have to do?). "Alright, we're getting close to halfway there. We're going to break off the trade path soon, so we might run into some Supermutants or Ghouls. Raiders and Gunners tend to stay out of this area and we're still too close to the city for the more dangerous wildlife to give us any trouble."

I nodded. There still hadn't been a chance for me to see what Supermutants could do. I doubted they would have any semblance of tactical forethought, but their physical prowess might make up for that.

"Can I ask you a few questions?"

What is it with people needing to talk all the time?

My gaze shifted to the detective for a moment before I returned to studying our surroundings.

"I can't stop you."

"I doubt that. Maybe a better question is would you play along."

"Probably not."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. Let me start by painting a picture for you."

I sighed quietly, but for some reason, his constant talking wasn't anywhere near as aggravating as Nate's. Maybe it was his much lower volume, or that so far it had all been pertinent to the task at hand.

Something tells me that's about to change.

"I've been roaming the Commonwealth for a long time, seen a lot in my time. Even ran into the wannabe military outfits that replaced whatever pathetic excuse for a government we had pre-war. Hell I'd say I've met every group we have in the good 'ol US of A that could claim to have advanced pre-war tech."

I thought so.

"You my friend aren't from any of them. So I've been thinking… where did you come from?"

"How is this relevant to finding Kellogg?"

"It isn't; I can't do any more on that front, but you… you're a mystery I haven't seen before, and I'll be damned if I waste an opportunity like that."

Well if you want to pursue that, you won't get much help from me.

"You and your armor aren't anything like the pre-war stuff and what the Enclave and Brotherhood use: T45, T51, T60, X-01, and 02. It's design is completely different, and someone your size, that armor would have to be tailor made for you. It has to be powered with how heavy it is, but you don't have any of the odd, jerky movements regular power armor does. Your movements are too fluid to be anything close to the regular tin cans we see around here. Hell, even for a regular person." He paused for a moment and I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my head. "That suit is way better than anything we could dream of making. Now there are plenty of things that could explain it, but most of them are full of crazy conspiracies and crap."

He paused again, clearly waiting for me to provide some commentary. Like I said: you want to go down this road, you're going to do the driving.

"So we're going to play that game huh? That's fine. I love diving into a good mystery."

The detective fell silent again. He had provided some useful information: there were at least 5 variants of power armor, and two different series. Which did the Brotherhood use? And which was the more effective version? He'd also essentially told me all power armor here is driven by regular people, so they would have limitations I could count on. If that was the case, my initial guess back in Cambridge was correct: these suits would primarily be focused on heavy protection and raw power. At least that was something I could draw on previous experience for. The protection provided by those suits wouldn't be on par with that of the combat frames insurrectionists had. The hard armor on those had been titanium, or in some extreme cases, tungsten carbide; these ones were hardened steel which meant I didn't have to get creative, I just had to have a big enough gun.

I glanced down at the sniper rifle's sling over my chest. Would that be enough? Do they have AP rounds? 12.7mm rounds can dig through a centimeter or two of hardened steel, how thick were the plates on those suits?

Both of us were quiet for the next few miles, but I occasionally felt Valentine peering at me. I'm sure he was spending more time trying to figure out what I was than how to get to the Institute at this point.

Good luck with that one.

By the time the sun had risen all the way, we were out of the infill surrounding Boston and into the more sporadically 'populated' outskirts of the city. Every quarter mile or so we would encounter a collapsing house or crumbling development along the pock marked and eroded two lane street. It was a relief to be out of the densely packed towers or houses of the metropolitan area; fewer obstacles and better sight lines.

Still haven't engaged any Supermutants…

As we approached another cluster of houses, something looked… off. Several of the houses had doors left ajar, which wouldn't necessarily be a concern if the weathering on the edges was the same as the rest of the door and the surrounding house. Even from 50 meters away, I could see many of them still had paint or bright, unmarred wood where there should have been eroded splinters.

I scanned the area again, looking for more evidence of habitation. It only took a few seconds to find one: the front of one of the houses facing me had its front wall collapse at some point, and a body was lying in the rubble. This one wasn't the discarded bones I'd come to associate with the landscape, but a still lumpy mass of flesh…

My mind flashed back to Cambridge, and the feral ghouls attacking the police station.

I motioned for Valentine to stop.

"Feral ghouls." I pointed to the collapsing house.

"Ah… good eye. They like to sleep in spots like that. Don't know if it's to trap prey or they just don't have the mental capacity to do anything else anymore. You think we should go around?"

They hadn't been an issue in Cambridge, and I doubted there would be a horde anything close to that one here; there weren't enough structures to hide them all. It would be quick and… I could use a little warm up.

"No. Stay behind me, don't fire unless you have to."

I crept forward, eyes darting between each house, looking for more ghouls lying in wait. I spotted four more: another in the same rubble pile as the first, two others on a nearby front porch, and one more resting in the brown, sickly looking grass in front of another house.

For his part, Valentine seemed much more accustomed to sneaking around than Nate. It made sense considering his profession. His steps were still too abrupt and loud, but they were better than the ex-soldier's had been.

We reached the lawn of the closest house where I spotted the first two ghouls and I motioned for the detective to stay put.

None had moved in response to our approach. I slipped to the front porch-

And stopped just before I began climbing the steps. That's something I hadn't considered...

Would the crumbling wood be able to support my weight? There was no way I made it up without making enough sound to wake the neighborhood.

If quiet isn't possible, go in fast and loud.

I could almost hear Katrina's voice.

My legs drove into the ground and I lunged up onto the deck and over to the first sleeping ghoul. The porch groaned under me, flexing worryingly, but it held.

Just as the two prone figures began stirring, I dropped to a knee and plunged my knife in the neck of the first. Blood gurgled passed the blade as it struggled to breath through the blood pouring down its trachea.

I jerked the knife out and blood splashed from the wound, covering my first victim. The second was scrambling to get its feet under it. I swung my arm around and drove the knife between the ghoul's ribs into its heart. The thing flailed on the ground, clutching at my arm as I pulled the knife back out.

Pattering of feet from inside the house caught my attention as more of these things roused themselves. I looked up to see three of them careening through the dilapidated interior toward me.

My legs drove me forward to meet them. I crashed into the first two, knocking them both to the ground. I stomped down on the first's head, crushing it in a shower of blood, bone, and grey matter, as the last one lunged at me, arms outstretched, reaching for my throat. I turned my shoulder in and drove it into the emaciated figure's chest, stopping the thing cold with a wet snap. It dropped to the ground with the other two, trying to get its feet back.

The other I'd slammed into was just regaining its footing when I drove the knife down and punched through it's right eye and into its brain. I felt the tip of the knife collide with the back of the Ghoul's skull right before the berzerker collapsed to the ground.

With the last one still scrambling on the ground, I put it out of its misery with another jab of my knife into its neck-

Gunshots sounded outside accompanied by the detective's distinctive voice throwing profanities at whatever was attacking him. I sprung back out of the house to see two dead Ghouls in the middle of the street with another two hurrying toward a retreating Valentine. The gunshots were going to draw any other Ghouls in the area, but I had told him to fire if necessary.

The detective put the other two down just as they reached him but with the fading reports, the sounds of dozens more scattered around the neighborhood punctuated the problem.

I slipped the knife back under my arm and jogged over to the synth while double checking my rifle.

"We need to move."

"Agreed." Valentine swapped a fresh mag into his 10mm handgun. "Lead the way."

Bare feet pounding on pavement preceded several more rounding the intersection ahead of us, stumbling over one another in their haste to greet us. My rifle was up and a half dozen rounds later, the small group was disposed of. Concern started to creep into the back of my mind like a dark mist with the sounds of many, many more coming from every direction.

I set off at a jog toward the edge of the housing development, fast enough to cover ground, but slow for Valentine to keep up. We may not get away from the Ghouls, but at the very least it would funnel them into one direction.

Only a hundred meters or so separated us from the far edge of the neighborhood, but in the 20 seconds it took us to reach it, both of us were constantly warding off encroaching Ferals. I blazed a path ahead while the detective kept the rear covered. It was… refreshing to see Valentine adapt to the situation so quickly, something I had yet to get from Nate. It was probably a result of the Synth spending who knows how long surviving in a climate where everything, including said environment, was trying to kill him.

It was something I knew all too well: if you couldn't acclimate quickly, you die. Even in the midst of a gunfight, I remembered my DI's favorite line during her 'real world sim training'. "You fail at this, you're gonna leave someone else to clean up your mess, and that would be a major fucking inconvenience."

Trips down memory lane could wait considering the circumstances.

The final intersection was too clogged with cars to comfortably ford through it. The pile of burnt out, rusting vehicles looked like they had a mass collision right before nuclear fire swept over the area. It was an oddly eerie reminder of what happened here.

I skirted around the mass of vehicles and just as I was passing a house to my right, a Ghoul lunged out of the shadows behind the half collapsed building. I batted it aside with the butt of my rifle before putting two rounds through its chest and continuing toward what would, hopefully, be a more defensible posit-

Another careened out from behind an adjacent house and slammed into me. I shoulder checked it like I had before, but before I could put it down for good, another group crashed into my back. The writhing bodies knocked me off balance, which annoyed me more than anything else. These things were mindlessly flinging themselves at me, no strategy outside of 'hey let's run at the guys with guns'.

Even as I regained my footing, several latched on to my armor and tried to pull me down.

Get off of me.

I grabbed one that had wrapped itself around my right leg by the back of the neck and tore it from the limb. I swung the bastard down on second that was grasping for my helmet. Another received a gauntleted punch to the side of its head, and I snatched my handgun before pressing the muzzle to the fourth's head and splattered its brain across the side of a rusted hulk that had once been a car.

Fights like this are annoying.

While extricating myself from the small mound of dead, I finished off the first Ghoul I'd knocked down and clamped the handgun back to my thigh. Valentine was just catching up when I did a quick ammo check on my rifle and began forward once again.

We continued another 50 meters to so past the last intersection before coming to a stop and turning to engage what was left of the shambling group of Ferals. The trail of dead, withered bodies leading out of the neighborhood seemed to make up the majority of its former population. The final dozen Ghouls only took a few moments to dispatch before relative quiet fell back over the area.

After the Triggermen and now these things, with only 3 full and one half mag left, I was running worryingly low on ammo for my rifle. If Kellogg had Institute forces backing him up, I could always scavenge ammo or weapons from them; if he didn't… well ammo probably wouldn't be a problem then.

After a minute massed in silence, and then another, it seemed reasonable to believe no more Ghouls would be coming after us.

"Let's move." I turned and began toward Hagen once again.

"Wha- just like that?"

Yep.

"No more are coming. I don't want to find out if anything heard that."

After another moment's hesitation, I heard the detectives footsteps join my own over the broken pavement."

"Damn", he muttered, "the guy might have been right."

Nate? Nate might have been right about what? Are we supposed to do something else? What good would that do them, they're dead and even if they weren't they were basically animals?

People always assign too much sentimentality to things that don't need it. If someone or something else is trying to kill me, it's they're problem if they end up dead, not mine.

The sun continued its journey into the sky as we trudged through the broken ruins that dotted the landscape. Outside of the occasional wild animal, nothing else made itself known. Still no Supermutants or Gunners, but it sounds like those groups tend to stick to the city.

Maybe Valentine would know why we haven't seen them?

"I thought Supermutants were supposed to be in the area."

"They are… I haven't been this way in a long time, it's possible they put up their settlements in other areas." He frowned. "I know they've been getting more bold with their intrusions into the city, maybe they've set up closer to the Fenway."

Even with as little as I knew about this place, that sounded like it could turn into a problem. "Would they attack the city?"

"Hard to say with those giant bastards, but they're always looking for any opportunity to kill people, so I wouldn't be surprised. I'd be more concerned about the trader routes for now, but that's a problem for another day."

That's true.

"Anything else you can tell me about Kellogg or who he might have with him?"

"Are you worried about him? I don't know if you should be."

"Why?"

The detective glanced over his shoulder; the neighborhood carpeted with now dead Ghouls was well out of sight, but I knew that's what he was getting at.

"It only takes one mistake."

"Really? Seems like you're pretty good at fighting without a plan."

Another montage of images and sensation flashed through my mind: fights with friends when I was young, winding up crying my way home with a new collection of cuts and bruises. Hand to hand training with other III's and DI's; broken bones, dislocated shoulder, fractured jaw. Fighting Sangheili, the first one I killed, I was almost in worse shape than the bastard was by the end of it.

"Getting your ass kicked teaches you to never take an advantage for granted."

A look of astonishment crept across the detective's synthetic features. "You've gotten your ass kicked? By who?"

I met his gaze with silence. You don't perform many interrogations, do you?

"Ah, right, too obvious. Well… I don't think there's much else I can tell you to prepare, mostly because I've never had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of his traps. Probably wouldn't be here if I had. At least, I haven't ever met anyone who was."

If that's the case, the safest approach would be to assume Kellogg's goal is to kill Nate when the ex-soldier comes for him with as little risk as possible. That means a sniper kill or direct engagement with the Synth forces that would likely accompany him. If we were altogether wrong about the theory the Institute wanted Nate to eliminate him, it's possible we were walking into a trap. The most sure fire way of taking care of the problem would be rigging the building, but that seemed extreme for the threat Nate posed.

I would have to do a lot of scouting before I went in.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. The lack of noise I'd come to associate with modern, relatively urban environments was disconcerting, and another stark reminder of where I was and what happened here. Cities always have some form of background noise: people, vehicles, industrial equipment... any combination of random noises you stop noticing after a while. Plenty of my deployments were in extremely urban environments, it was something I'd grown accustomed to, and this is Earth of all places.

The feeling of intense isolation wormed it's way back into my head.

Notes:

I ruined it! I know, I know, a big part of the story was the MC's revenge for killing their spouse. The problem for me, and how the story has formed, is Damon is utterly pragmatic (though there are definitely some emotional issues happening), and Nate goes against that in his mind. Besides, let's be real here, realistically Kellogg would whoop Nate's ass canonically, it's something that has always bugged me about Fallout 4. So what did I do to fix it? Threw a SPARTAN at the problem (hey, if it's good enough for the UNSC, it's good enough for me). I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 8: The Man With Nothing

Notes:

Regards from the estate of odd fantasies and impossible happenings (seriously though, what's up with how the physics of Fallout work? Ghouls? Two headed cows? Deathclaws? Where did those things even come from?). This chapter is technically late, but this is when I was planning on posting it, I just forgot to update my profile with the date. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter (not as much editing it but...) and it's one I think a lot of you will look back on as a catalyst for many things to come. Anyways, as always, let me know what you all think (leaving constructive reviews is always appreciated) and enjoy!

Fort Hagen wasn't what I'd come to associate with the word 'Fort'. Those were usually strongholds with self sufficient eco-systems surrounded by fortifications and defenses strong enough to stop anything short of an army. This was… not that. Instead Hagen was just a large structure set in the midst of a small town with little by way of emplacements or physical defense outside of several unmanned machine gun nests and what looked like automated turrets placed atop the building. The 'fort' itself was clearly military: too large, concrete, and as ugly as they possibly could have made it.

Scouting the town I counted 12 active automated turrets slowly rotating back and forth on their perches. The four obvious exterior entrances were all barricaded; with enough time I could probably clear one of them away, but that was a great way to end up dead. That left two other options: the entrance to what looked like an underground parking structure or potential roof access I couldn't see. I didn't like either. There was no obvious means for detection around the building, which meant each of those turrets had their sensing equipment built in, so crossing the wide open area surrounding Hagen would be risky. Destroying the turrets would eliminate that problem, but alert any forces in the area to my presence, and that put any roof access out by proxy. So the only reasonable approach would be through any sublevels connected to the parking garage.

And Kellogg would know that.

Have to give it to him, for a small scale engagement, he picked a very good hideout.

A common misconception about these situations is it's always best to leave the smallest footprint possible. In some cases that's true, but in others having an extremely well fortified position like this works better. If you know you're probably going to be tracked down, better to have a well established defense than concealment.

A diversion might be useful.

I slipped out of the small town and back down a small hill to the half collapsed building where Valentine was waiting. Inside, the Synth was idly checking his handgun. He looked up expectantly as I entered.

"A dozen turrets and every obvious entrance is barricaded. No quiet way in."

"Uh… Quiet?"

"Easiest way is if we run interference."

"... And you want me to do that."

I nodded. "Destroying a few turrets would draw attention." I unslung my rifle and offered it and the few remaining magazines to him.

He arched where an eyebrow should have been. "This is a bit more than I signed up for."

"The other option is brute force."

"You can't make that work?"

Why does everyone argue about this? It's like they all think they have tactical expertise. Between Nate's annoying persistence and the group in Sanctuary constantly questioning every decision (at least until the Raider attack), patience was gone at this point.

"Help me or don't."

The detective looked from the rifle in my hand back up to me. "And when they come after me?"

"Hide until I draw their attention, watch the perimeter to make sure Kellogg doesn't escape; I'll get you when it's secure."

He hesitated, still glancing between the rifle and me. Eventually the Synth took the weapon and ammo, but his reluctance was clear as day. "So if you're going to make me do it your way, what's the actual plan?"

"Pick off the turrets on the east side of the building, I check the parking structure below Hagen. If this is a trap, it or the building's roof access should be unblocked."

"You want to get caught in the trap?"

You wanted me to brute force my way through this, what's the difference?

"Your diversion should slow any response."

"What if it isn't just Kellogg or Synths? What if it's a bomb or something else you can't just shoot?"

It wouldn't be the first time someone has tried to blow me up.

"I'll worry about that."

The detective hesitated again before letting out an overly dramatic sigh. "You know… your buddy didn't say as much, but I get the feeling he thinks you're a pain in the ass to work with. I gotta say, I agree. We're going into a fight with the likes of Kellogg, and the best you can give me for assurances is 'I'll handle it'. It makes things difficult."

I don't work with people enough to worry about making them comfortable. Realistically, as long as they did what I needed them to, it wasn't a problem.

Well clearly if I have to rely on civilians for help, it's going to become one… or at least a larger one.

Relying on civilians for help… that's rich.

It's what I'm doing.

"I know how to assault fortified positions, and have fallen for enough traps to know how to deal with them." One in particular came to mind: it was my fourth or fifth deployment, pacifying a small time Innie outpost near a mining colony in the Jericho system. I wasn't well known enough in their circles to prepare specifically for me, yet, but they were aware of other SPARTANs hunting them (I've heard more than a few stories about my predecessor). A massive IED was rigged to blow part of the station to hell and I didn't recognize the retreating insurrectionists and sealing bulkheads until just before it went off. The only reason I didn't die was because my handlers had given me an EVA pack for the op. I managed to get out of the station and maneuver outside of the blast zone, but it still knocked the shit out of me.

"What does that look like, if you'll humor me?"

"If they shoot at me, it means they probably won't try to blow me up."

"I doubt Kellogg cares about Synth casualties."

That's why I said 'probably'. It didn't seem likely Kellogg or the Institute would go through the trouble of rigging a relatively well fortified position like Hagen to blow just to kill Nate. There were much more efficient ways to deal with him, and it didn't seem likely they would know about me, or have the time to set something like this up to eliminate me.

But there was always a calculated risk in an op like this.

In any case, I wasn't interested in continuing the argument.

"They wouldn't sacrifice a position like this when a bullet would work. If anything happens you'll be out of the way."

Valentine hefted the rifle and grunted. He must have realized I was done with the conversation. "Fine."

"Stay out of sight for a few minutes. I'll move on your go."

Once we reached the top of the hill, I pointed out the turrets on the building's east flank before circling to the south side. The sun was beginning its journey down toward the horizon by this point; we may have to stay in the area for the night depending on how this went; I hadn't seen much wildlife so far, but I didn't feel like chancing it with so many other unknowns.

A minute and a half ticked off of my HUD's clock when Valentine fired off the first shot. It was quickly followed by two others, a pause, and then three more. After the third burst, I bolted from my cover, sidearm in hand, and rushed to the parking garage's main entrance. One of the two turrets on the near side of the building tracked and spat out a short stream of rounds, but they impacted the ground behind me and I had covered the intervening 20 meters before it could let off another.

I raced down the ramp and into the dark interior, eyes screaming around the enclosure for signs of a potential trap; no trip wires, no mines, no more turrets, and no enemy combatants. The only things in the parking structure were rusted hulks that used to be cars, some debris and rubble from a partially collapsed wall, and an unbarricaded door set in the far end.

Kellogg definitely set this up; the way in is too clean.

The thought slipped through my mind as I slid to a stop next to the building's entrance. Funny part was, it gave away the mercenary was either too used to dealing with amateurs, or wasn't as experienced as I gave him credit for. If he wanted to make this look real, he needed to make whoever was breaking in work for it, just make it a bit easier than the other points of egress.

Unless…

I ran a gauntleted hand over the seam between the door and frame, but I couldn't find any signs of a trap. That didn't mean there wasn't one rigged to the other side. Kicking the steel door in wouldn't be the issue, but if it was wired to blow, that could be problematic depending on what kind of explosive Kellogg used. What I needed was something heavy enough to break the door down I could throw from a distance…

My eyes roamed the dim garage back to the pile of rubble. Several pieces looked large enough to do the job. After 30 seconds of sifting through the collection of ex-building pieces, I came away with one that weighed around fifty kilos. With my prize in hand, I took cover behind one of the hulks, a dozen meters from the door.

If the door is rigged, and the explosion was powerful enough, it could collapse the rest of this place on my head.

Other than the wall, it looked pretty intact. Worrying about it now wouldn't do any good.

I hefted the chunk of concrete, drew the muscles in my core and right arm taunt, waited a beat, and hurled the large piece of rubble at the door. It slammed into my intended target just above the door handle and shattered, but the debris transferred enough energy to the steel door to deform it with a sharp groan before the latch gave way and blew open-

Just in time for a distinct ping barely loud enough for me to hear over the impact sound.

Ah. I flattened myself to the ground as the doorway exploded. The concussion slammed into the former car I was using as cover at the same time as the countless pieces of my makeshift battering ram that had been further broken down by the explosion. Dust was thrown from the door, rained from the cracked concrete ceiling, and swirled through the parking garage like a hurricane as small chunks of rock, and what sounded like the door, began pinging off of the car. My shields flared as some of the shrapnel slammed into me.

Thankfully my cover and armor absorbed most of the concussion that would have probably knocked me unconscious; an enclosed space like this, that kind of explosion, even if they hadn't been caught in the blast, anyone in the garage would most likely have died from trauma.

I guess whatever the Institute had planned for Nate or Kellogg, the mercenary intended to win.

Couldn't blame him, in fact I respected the attempt, but unfortunately for him, he wasn't fighting the ex-soldier.

As the dust from the explosion began to settle, I came up in a crouch and glanced into the door through the ruined car's cabin…

There were several figures stalking down a long hall on the other side of the ruined doorway, wearing plain white armor, cradling something that looked roughly like the laser rifle Danse had used.

So he wired the door to blow and had forces prepared to clean up any potential stragglers.

I couldn't help the excitement beginning to well up in my chest; this guy was giving me the first real fight since I dropped into this hellhole.

With my handgun perched on the driver side door's window sill, I sighted on the first of the two targets who had just reached the destroyed entrance. If these were Institute forces, Synths, that armor would definitely be better than the cobbled together mess I'd seen so far; pistol calibers wouldn't get through it.

The first round slammed into the lens over my target's right eye. Those must not have been reinforced because the bullet punched through and into the wearer's head. It dropped to the floor, but there was no penetration through the back of the helmet, that didn't necessarily mean it couldn't but it seemed like my guess was correct.

The other three immediately returned fire on my cover, but instead of the bright red beams I'd come to associate with laser fire, these were an intense blue. I squeezed off two more rounds that both careened into the next Synth's (presumably) head; it flinched, head snapping back, but neither made it through. The sniper could probably make it through, but I didn't want to use that unless absolutely necessary. Valentine said these things had similar physical capabilities to regular humans.

One more shot exploded from my handgun and hit the lead Synth in the arm, throwing it's aim off, and I charged forward. I closed the dozen meters before it could recover and straight kicked the thing in the chest, sending it tumbling back through the door, into its advancing companions. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of armor and limbs as I ducked into the tight passage. I sent another round through the lenses of the first unit, but the next two were already recovering and the next two shots slammed into their helmets.

It would be difficult to hit their eyes with them moving around, the handgun wasn't going to cut it here.

I lunged forward again and caught the barrel of the first Synth's rifle as it took aim again. With a sharp twist and pull, I wrenched the firearm from its grasp. Most people chased the weapon, but this thing pulled back and launched a fist at the side of my head. I shunted the blow aside and brought the rifle back around, slamming it into the side of its previous owner's neck. The impact produced an odd screeching noise as the Synth crashed into the concrete wall and collapsed to the floor once again.

As the last one backpedalled, trying to put some distance between us, I threw what was left of the destroyed rifle at it. The Synth ducked under the flying weapon, but I was on it before the thing could recover and drove a knee into its chest. A loud crack accompanied the Synth careening back down the hall and crashing to the ground as its chestplate shattered. I brought my handgun back up as the Synth began struggling, groggily, to its feet and put a round through its right eye.

My last shot's report had just begun to fade when I heard the sound of boots on concrete coming from the parking garage. I wheeled on it, sights trained on the ruined doorway-

And just stopped myself from putting a round through Valentine's head.

"Whoa", he exclaimed, letting my rifle sway on its sling and held his hands up, "I don't need any more holes in me."

I checked the hall behind me for more approaching Synths before turning back to the detective who was studying the explosion marred concrete around the entrance.

I told you to wait for my signal. Why are you here?

"I said wait."

"I heard the explosion, whole building shook. I didn't know if you were still alive."

So you decided running blindly toward an ambush was the best course of action?

It didn't matter now, he's here, as long as he didn't get in the way it wasn't an issue. Hell, it meant I wouldn't have to go back and get him.

"Don't take any unnecessary risks, don't get in the way."

"Huh. So you want your gun back?" He held up my rifle.

Do I? My gaze dropped to one of the discarded energy weapons. What about these? Do they have the power to penetrate that armor? What are they like to handle? Might as well see what they're like while I have the chance.

I shook my head as I leaned down to pick up the rifle. It was incredibly light, the gun felt like it was made of some sort of polymer or composite. There was a large cell on the top left that was the same as the 'Fusion Cells' Preston had used to power his Laser Musket. A quick search turned up six spares between the dead Synths. Without an adjustable stock, it was too small to shoulder comfortably, but the conventional rifle I'd been using had the same issue.

After a moment to familiarize myself with the weapon, I took aim at one of the Synths and fired. That blue light speared out of the muzzle and through its faceplate. I checked the back of its head for overpenetration, but it only punched through the front of its armor. At least I wouldn't have to aim for the eyes every time with this. I caught Valentine studying me incredulously while I tested the rifle, but I didn't feel like explaining; it wasn't hard to figure out what I was doing.

Without knowing how many shots were in one of these, I replaced the Fusion Cell with a fresh one and waved the detective through the entrance. To my left was a staircase heading up into the building, and straight ahead was a door… huh… another door. While it was unlikely Kellogg would have that door wired as well, I didn't want to take chances in a confined space like this.

I might end up needing to go through the door regardless.

That's a bridge I can cross when I come to it.

Waving the detective forward, I lead him up the stairs into what looked like a lobby-

That was occupied by yet more Synths. Unsurprisingly, with all the explosions and gunfire below, they were prepared for any potential intruders; the moment I peeked around the corner at the top of the staircase, a blue lance speared past my head and burned into the wall behind me. My aim snapped to the bolt's origin and I put my own shot into the offender's head before I ducked under a barrage of incoming fire.

I felt a tug on my back and turned to Valentine. "I can give you cover when they stop shooting."

Didn't you want to stay out of trouble?

If he's willing to offer… "On my go." He nodded.

A few seconds later, the incoming fire slackened to a trickle; I sprung up the final five steps and hugged the right wall around the corner while the detective swung to the left. Two Synths were positioned on either side of the narrow passage and another was behind a mostly collapsed wall in the rear.

Valentine opened fire, tagging the one on the left while I put the one on the right down and hit the rearmost one in the arm. The detective's target wasn't dead, but the shots gave me time to fix that with another blue spear through its head.

The last one tried to return fire, but as it did, I squeezed my confiscated rifle's trigger once more and sent a bright blue laser searing into its jaw.

I passed a closed set of double doors to my right and another set of stairs on my left and did a quick clear on the next staircase before continuing into the room. The enclosure's decorations were… strange; they looked historic, even for the tech these people had. In fact, they seemed familiar. Why?

Concord.

The museum Preston's group had held up in, it was full of historic military paraphernalia.

So is that what this place is? A kind of museum? That would explain it's odd layout and location.

Not important.

My attention snapped back to potential threats. The shuffling above and around me said there were still plenty of Synths do deal with, and I still had no clue where Kellogg might be hiding.

The next ten minutes were spent fighting my way through the main floor, and another above searching for anything that might point me to Kellogg. As it turns out, each of those Fusion Cells provides 30 shots. Found that out after I turned a corner and ended up face to face with another turret sitting in a cubby when I pulled the trigger and nothing happened. I just managed to duck back through the door I'd entered before the emplacement began peppering the already dilapidated wall with weapon's fire.

Valentine had been right when he said the Synths weren't smart; they're tactics were rudimentary at best and generally consisted of high volumes of fire.

The excitement from before was starting to wane. Maybe Kellogg will put up a better fight.

Eventually the detective and I found an elevator being guarded by a ceiling mounted turret and a squad of Synths. Those didn't last much longer than any of the others. But that presented its own problems. More than a few times, I've set traps in or on elevators to catch targets in a practically indefensible position.

Well he isn't here; I haven't seen another exit for this elevator which means there's more to this fort than I'm seeing. That meant I risked the elevator or the door. I'd rather deal with another bomb than being trapped in a small metal box.

Valentine was looking at the elevator with an expression he was thinking the same. "So… I don't know about you, but with Kellogg, I'd rather not get in that coffin."

"Agreed; we'll breach the other door in the basement."

"You think that one's got a bomb behind it too?"

"Possibly."

"Well…" The detective turned to me. "How are you going to get through with being blown up?"

Breaking it open with another piece of rubble would be difficult; while the door into the parking garage had opened inward, the interior door swung the opposite direction. I could still kick the door down, but with how powerful the first bomb was, that wouldn't end well. I didn't have access to any breaching charges but…

I pulled one of the Fusion cells from a pouch and placed it on the ground. Waving Valentine away, we backtracked to the room's entrance. I took aim and placed a lance of blue energy into the power supply which rewarded me with its own vibrant blue eruption as whatever it used to store energy reacted violently with the shot. All that was left once the light faded was a burning hole in the already pockmarked wooden floor.

"I see, you're going to pop the lock with that; gotta say, I've never seen anyone use a Fusion Cell like that before. Didn't know they could."

Improvisation is your most powerful tool. I think that one was Katrina.

"Let's move."

A moment later, I was balancing three cells between the wall and the door handle while Valentine took cover in the parking garage and watched for any stragglers. I didn't know how more than one would react, but it couldn't be as dangerous as the bomb on the first door.

With my makeshift breaching charge in place, I squeezed myself back down the hall and ducked out of the door into the parking structure.

What if this one is bigger?

Why would he rig this door with a larger charge than the first?

Breach the first, get dealt with by the Synths. If the threat is too serious, blow the whole place.

That wouldn't make sense, especially if Kellogg is here; it's a lot of resources to lose for one person.

I'm one to talk about that.

I think it's a bit different, the Insurrectionists trying to kill me and Nate's quest for revenge.

Even so… "Take cover outside."

I felt Valentine's eyes fall on me. "Why?"

"If this one is wired too, you don't want to be in here."

"And you?"

I glanced at him. "Someone has to crack it open."

"Are you-" The detective stopped mid question. "Nevermind." He made his way up the ramp, slowly checking for more hostiles.

This could get… interesting.

Wouldn't be the first time.

30 seconds ticked off my clock and I decided that should be enough time for Valentine to get clear. I sighted on the small collection of yellow cells, took a deep breath, and put a shot into each.

Turns out when multiple cells are together, they react much more violently. Instead of the quick burn of the one I'd detonated before, these ones went off like a small hand grenade and once they were finished, there was a hole the size of my hand where the door's latch used to be.

Nothing…

A moment passed as the door slowly drifted open with a gentle creek, but no explosion this time.

Well, I guess I was right.

Beyond the door was another hall running perpendicular to the first. No sounds followed the small explosion, but that didn't mean anything. Several seconds passed in silence as I waited for any potential counters, but nothing came.

Eventually, I heard Valentine begin back down into the parking garage; the Synth was trying to be quiet, but there was only so much you could do in a place like this. A moment later he rounded the final corner and peered into the now open door. This was normally the point these people seemed to always make some comment, but as we waited, the detective remain silent. I guess he learns quickly.

After a minute passed and nothing made its presence known, I grew impatient enough to say the hell with it.

They don't want to make the first move… I'll make it for them.

I signaled for Valentine to stay put as I slid back through into the short hall and stopped just behind the next door's threshold. My hand almost reached for the small fiber optic camera I usually kept with me for situations like this; it really is the little things that make life easier.

With another instant's hesitation, I leaned around the corner to the left, stolen rifle ready to meet whatever threat lay beyond-

I recoiled from the door as a hail of small arms and laser fire poured down the long hall from a turret and pair of synths positioned through yet another doorway.

There was no way of knowing when their ammo would run dry, or if that might give time for more forces to show up. Sometimes, this is what having shields is for.

A quick lean out, rifle up, I speared one of the Synths through its head as one of their beams splashed into my shields directly over my visor. I retreated back around the corner and blinked the spots from my vision. Even with the visor polarizing in response, that was really bright; I felt like I had just stared at the sun.

After a few seconds of waiting for the blotches swimming around the hall to subside, weapons' fire still filling the space, I aimed down toward the second Synth and placed a shot into its neck… but the damn thing didn't go down. I let go of a second, hasty shot at the same time as a smattering of rounds from the turret hit me, that got pulled wide and hit the thing in its arm.

Damn. I leaned back away from the gunfire. I must have missed whatever vital points that thing has; are all if they are constructed to resemble humans, it must have a spine. The shot had been a little off right. It was wounded though, the gunfire had slowed to only the turret peppering the opposite end of the hall with bullets.

This time I stepped out into the hall in full, squared the automated gun in my sights and placed a trio of blue lances through its bulbous center.

With the gun out of commission, I finished the second Synth before sprinting down the hall, clearing another room on the left and the end of the passage with the smoking remains of the turret and two Institute fighters.

"Clear", I called back to Valentine. Directly ahead was another set of stairs leading down into what looked like would be a sub basement. So this place is more than I originally thought.

I caught the detective studying the results of the gunfight as he stalked down the hall from the corner of my eye. He looked like he wanted to comment, but he again remained quiet.

Good, that's another positive change from Nate.

Down the staircase was a steel security door, but no more Synths or turrets. Odd… I noticed an odd fixture in the ceiling just on the other side of the door; it almost looked like a chandelier, but with strange looking nodes instead of lights. Some sort of arc generator?

As soon as I opened the door, my suspicions were confirmed as small bolts shot from the nodes and contacted anything around the room that would conduct electricity.

These are some impressively creative traps.

One arc struck me and drained my shields enough to set off a low energy warning.

If Nate tried to do this himself, Kellogg would have walked out of here without firing a shot.

Once the trap exhausted itself, we continued down the staircase, I dispatched another turret set behind a security door just in front of a set of steel double doors.

"You aren't who I was expecting."

I wheeled on the voice; but there was no one besides a startled looking Valentine and myself. It sounded like someone had run sandpaper over a block of wood and somehow made a sentence out of it. After a moment of searching, I saw it was coming from a speaker set in the ceiling just on the other side of the security door.

I glanced at the Synth. "Kellogg?"

"I assume so."

"You know who I am, but who are you?"

So this is Kellogg. That's all the info I need. I checked the double doors for any obvious traps before pushing them open to a room filled with computer banks, but nothing shooting at us.

"Not gonna answer huh? I've met people like you before, the quiet professional, no talk all business. Killed most of 'em."

I almost chuckled. No you haven't. I led Valentine down another staircase into a dilapidated hall, this time with a pair of Synths at the far end. Dispatching those, I found myself at another set of doors.

"To be fair, I doubt any of them would have made it this far, so I must say I'm impressed. By the way, that armor, never seen that before, and I've been from one coast to another."

At this point I was in my rhythm: breach, clear, move, repeat. I dispatched several more ceiling mounted turrets and Synths as we made our way through more of the building, Kellogg talking all the while.

"I guess it doesn't really matter. I see you have the old Synth detective from Diamond city, so are you here to track me down from that newly thawed popsicle?"

Down another level, more turrets and Synths. They weren't noticeably harder to put down than the average human, but they were well positioned and good fighters. That combined with Kellogg's traps and turrets,by this point it was the first genuinely enjoyable fight I've had since arriving. Things had gotten much better than the fight upstairs.

"I'm surprised he found someone to do his dirty work for him, let alone someone like you. I don't know who you are, but I can tell you you're getting involved in something you don't understand."

If only the bastard would stop talking…

After a few more rooms and more dead Synths, I found myself locked behind another security door, but this one was remote operated, with no physical latch on the locking mechanism.

"I'm not opening that door until we've had a little chat my friend."

Talking isn't my thing. I glanced back at the detective. He nodded in return.

"What do you want to talk about."

"So. You use that relic as your mouthpiece?"

"He isn't the most interesting fellow to hold a conversation with Kellogg, I'm much better at it."

"Valentine? That's your name right?"

"You got it."

"Well then, if the silent killing machine won't talk, maybe we can have a civil conversation."

My gaze roamed the small room we were in; it looked like some sort of upscale medical suite office with a large desk at one end, a hospital bed in the middle and several shelves lining the walls. Is he trying to stall for more forces? There was nothing obvious in the room itself, but Kellogg has made it clear he is very good at organizing traps.

"About?"

"About the mess you and your armored friend are getting involved in."

"Unfortunately I owe him and the man whose son you kidnapped."

The security door was the same as the others, about an inch thick steel set in a reinforced frame; the latching system looked like a pair of bolts that retracted into the door. It would be simple enough to break down, and this talking was making me uncomfortable; the longer we waited here, the more opportunity Kellogg had to organize an escape or counterattack. I doubted he would surrender any information we needed willingly, so capturing him would work just as well without risking his escape.

"Well, as I'm sure you've guessed by this point, his son is with a very loving family: The Institute."

Or… not.

"We had."

"He's a bit older than the human popsicle would expect, but he's healthy and happy."

"Sorry, but considering how bad the man wants his son back, I don't think your… assurances are going to be enough."

"That isn't my problem, detective."

"So what now then?"

"Well, I was expecting the loving father, not some detective and his armored killing machine. The other guy, I could live with fighting; he wants revenge, I want to stay alive. Those motivations are as basic as it gets… ones I can understand. You two-"

I straight kicked the steel door near the latch. The door let out a shrill screech as the bolts holding it in place sheared off in the frame, the steel beneath my foot deformed like tin foil, and the security gate burst open with a resounding boom.

Scrambling feet came from somewhere beyond the door as I ducked through the twisted frame and swept down a hall and up a short staircase to another security door. I didn't slow as I leapt up the half dozen stairs in a single step and drove my left shoulder into the steel gate. It crumpled under the force of the impact before bursting open and I dove to the side as conventional and laser fire poured past me into the hall.

My eyes flitted around the new room, taking in the mass of desks and computer banks. Three Synths were adjusting their fire to my new position, all of which had the same laser rifle I was cradling; I didn't see any turrets which meant Kellogg was most likely in here as well.

I took aim at the nearest Synth as their aim fell on me and squeezed the trigger. My blue lance pierced its head as my shields flared in response to the others' fire. There wasn't any time to be fancy, Kellogg was clearly trying to escape at this point. I adjusted my aim as the two continued firing, rapidly draining my shields. My next shot dropped the second Synth and the third speared the final one just as my shields depleted.

As the last Institute fighter fell to the ground, a pair of gunshots rang out in the large room and I felt the rounds slam into the composite armor over my core. It did a good job of dissipating the impact, but whatever Kellogg was firing had punch. It didn't knock the wind out of me, but it certainly hurt.

Even as I rolled to the side, I zeroed in on where the shot had come from: a desk near the rear of the room, a doorway behind it. As I came out of the dodge, I sprang over the next set of desks and as soon as I landed, I caught sight of the mercenary, taking aim at me once more. Diving forward, I could almost feel the round scream by, just over my back.

With one last leap, I closed the remaining half dozen meters between Kellogg and myself. He backpedaled, trying to adjust his aim again, but I knocked the large caliber revolver out of his hands before he could bring it back around. He changed tact in an instant, sidestepping and reaching for a knife at his waist. I stepped forward, putting my right leg between his and looped my foot behind his left ankle before driving my forearm into his chest. I didn't hit him hard enough to break anything, just enough force to knock him off balance where my leg and gravity did the rest, putting the mercenary on his ass.

I brought my rifle to bear and sighted on the bald man's head. "Enough."

Kellogg froze, his hand half way back to the hilt of his knife. He shrugged. "Probably wouldn't do me any good anyways." He raised his hands. The man wasn't much to look at; he wore a leather outfit similar to some of the Raiders I'd seen, but with some sort of mechanical armature on his left arm. He was average size, with the scar Nate had described over his left eye.

His eyes said he was studying me the same way. "You're a big fucker, and I've never seen someone in power armor move like that. Who are you?"

Valentine's cautious footsteps climbed the stairs into the large room. "Is everything dead in there?"

"It's clear", I responded, my gunsight still on Kellogg's head. Had he intentionally aimed for where he thought my armor would be weaker? Or had that been chance?

"So now we're on to the interrogation, huh?"

"No", Valentine called as he approached from behind me, "someone like you, I doubt you'd give me anything."

"Depends on what you want."

The detective stopped beside me. "Is that so?"

"Sure is metal man."

"So how do we get to the Institute?"

"You don't." The mercenary shifted, left arm reaching down for something.

My finger slipped onto the trigger. "Stop."

Kellogg hesitated. "Relax tin can, I know when I'm beaten." He pointed at his left pocket. "There's a drive in there, take it. Should answer some of your questions."

Valentine stepped forward and knelt beside him. "What's the drive for?"

"Just take the damn thing."

Why is he giving up this easily?

"You're just giving us the answers?" Guess Valentine had the same reservations.

"Yeah, I am."

After several seconds' hesitation, the detective reached for the man's pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular box about the size of my palm.

"Take it to Doctor Amari, she's the one who made it for me."

"Okay but what is-"

"I've played my part in this, you won." The mercenary looked at me. "Or at least this guy did. I'm done with all this bullshit." His voice was odd, not just resigned, almost relieved.

"What do you mean?" The detective looked confused, but… I'm pretty sure I know where this is going.

"I thought I was the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth. Guess you proved me wrong." He chuckled. "It's about damn time. Glad it's someone like you who finally put me down, not some random lucky punk off the streets." Kellogg paused, something crossing his face for the briefest instant. "Not the goddamn Institute."

I thought so.

"One professional to another, just make it qu-"

I squeezed my stolen rifle's trigger and burned a hole straight through the bridge of the mercenary's nose.

Valentine jumped back as Kellogg slumped backward onto the rubble covered ground.

"What the hell did you do that for?" The detective's voice was equal parts shock and confusion.

Besides removing the threat? He wanted me to.

"He wasn't giving us anything else."

"We could have-" he stopped mid-sentence and composed himself. "Yeah, you're probably right." The Synth looked at the small device in his hand. "Best thing that could have happened anyways; at least this bastard won't be around to hurt anyone else."

I looked down at the dead body that had been Kellogg a few seconds ago, something oddly close to remorse blooming somewhere in the back of my mind. I didn't regret pulling the trigger but… I could relate to how he felt in that moment. He was tired. I'd guess from the peaceful look in his glazed over eyes, he'd probably been tired for a long time.

Enough.

"Let's move."

"Right."

I walked toward the doorway at the rear of the large room which led back to the collapsing hall I'd fought through before.

"You think that elevator is safe?" Valentine motioned to the lift at the far end of the hall.

It was probably his escape route.

That odd sense of discontent lingered… but why? What about the mercenary made me feel so… wrong?

"Probably."

I crammed myself into the elevator with Valentine and the support cables groaned as they began pulling us back up to the surface.

What about Kellogg sits so wrong with me?

It wasn't him being a hired gun, I'd fought plenty of those, both human and Covenant. Was it his relationship with the Institute? He clearly didn't like them, and they used him like a disposable asset until they didn't need him.

Sounds a lot like ONI again.

Despite that, he fought to survive until the end, until it was obvious he couldn't win.

Even when he was so ready to die.

The elevator dinged and the rusted mechanisms ground the doors open. Beyond them was a small room with another security gate beside a computer.

Valentine extricated himself from the cramped elevator and walked to the terminal. "Let me see if I can open the door before you kick this one in too."

As the detective spoke, an odd drone began filling the room. It wasn't coming from the fort, it sounded like an angry beehive rolling over the hills in the surrounding landscape. It sounded like helicopter props. I ducked out of the elevator and approached the security door. The drone slowly grew louder, but it was strange… it sounded like there were several distinct props.

"Got it." Valentine backed away from the terminal and the door swung open. I peered through the opening into the now evening sun and checked the immediate area; there was nothing in the area that could produce that drone.

"What's that sound?"

I shrugged, still searching for the possible source.

And then I found it.

With a suddenness that almost startled me, the droning grew in volume to almost deafening as a massive airship emerged from over the hill to the west. It was accompanied by several other, smaller aircraft that looked exactly like the one I'd seen crashed in Concord… a Vertibird.

"PEOPLE OF THE COMMONWEALTH", a voice blasted over a loudspeaker on the airship. "DO NOT INTERFERE, OUR INTENTIONS ARE PEACEFUL. WE ARE THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL."

My mind flashed back to the moment I looked up to see the bulbous form of a Covenant frigate hovering over the small city I had called home. The moment the first plasma fire began raining from the sky. The moment Covenant forces began killing their way through the civilian populus. Running, hiding, running more when they got close.

This isn't that. These are humans, no plasma bombardment, no seemingly unlimited resources, no genocide.

Not yet.

This wasn't the Covenant, but I couldn't help but imagine the parallels. If my first encounter with their recon squad was anything to judge by, they might be just as fanatical.

"What the hell is going on?" Valentine was standing beside me, staring up into the bottom of the massive airship as it passed by. "The Brotherhood are here… what do they want? We should get back."

"Not yet."

"Wh- why?"

"The Brotherhood might have patrols along their path; we need to wait until nightfall."

My concerns about the wildlife could wait, the detective was right about getting back.

"Does the Brotherhood have any particular reason to chase you?"

Other than their interest in advanced technology?

"Nate and I made contact with their scouting party."

"Uh huh… and why do I get the idea 'made contact' means someone ended up dead?"

I shook my head, still studying the mass of aircraft flying overhead. "Not dead. They had armor."

"Ah, so attempted murder instead of murder; that's a lot better." My gaze switched from the convoy down to Valentine. "Alright, fine, we wait until nightfall. Just to warn you, that's when some of the more… interesting wildlife comes out."

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting in the room I had just killed Kellogg in, leaning against the wall opposite the entrance with Valentine across from me. The mercenary, or at least what I knew of him, still bothered me. But again, why? What made killing him different from any of the others? Was it his relationship with the Institute? It definitely reflected mine with ONI. But that didn't seem like enough reason to feel like this. Was it killing him the way I had? It shouldn't have been; he certainly wasn't the first person I've executed. Was it his attitude when I'd beaten him? The mercenary had just seemed so… content with my rifled aim at his head. Like he had been waiting for someone to do that for a long time.

Then why had he fought against it so hard?

The question sat in my mind like an anvil, waiting for the hammer to strike.

But I didn't have the answer.

Why does the answer matter? He's dead, I'm alive, and I can keep moving forward.

Is everything about 'moving forward'?

What else is there?

Clearly a lot since I don't understand why I'm uncomfortable with how Kellogg died.

… How did I get here? Trying to figure out the motivations of someone I killed. Am I going to do that for every person I've put down? If so, I'm going to be here for a while.

Have I felt like this every time?

"Hey, I've got a question."

I pulled myself out of my musings. Valentine was studying me from his place across the room from me.

"About?"

"You."

I took a slow, deep breath; he wasn't going to let this go.

"You were a child soldier, weren't you?"

What? Where did that come from? I hesitated. The guess had me intrigued.

"Why?"

"Well, you've got the same poorly developed social skills I've seen in a lot of folks from… rougher areas. Of course, you could just be horrible with people, but the fact that you're so well versed in fighting, and nothing else, makes me think that's really all you know."

I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the broken ceiling. He isn't wrong.

"Even so, most of them find some form of social skills eventually."

Not if all they do is fight.

"So that leads me to another question: how old are you?"

My eyes roamed the random cracks in the ceiling. That was a good question… I was born in 2538, but I don't remember when… and now it was late 2557, right? That meant I was 19, close to 20. I glanced at the detective who was studying me intently. We have a couple more hours until it's dark, if I don't give him something he won't leave me alone.

"Around 20."

Silence bloomed in the dilapidated room as Valentine gaped at me. People were always surprised when they found out; hell, I was the youngest member of Fourier's squad by almost a decade. But that didn't matter, I had more combat experience than most non-SPARTANs. Comes with the territory when my version R&R was a weekend on ice (I guess that means, biologically, I'm even younger). ONI wasn't one to give breaks and I didn't want any; the more time I could spend fighting, the better. It gave me less time to think.

"Wha- that doesn't make sense. You're only 20?" I nodded. "Why do you act like you've been fighting for decades?"

Because I have.

"I've seen a lot."

"How long have you been doing it?"

"A while."

"That isn't an answer."

I shifted my gaze to the Synth once again. Does he think I owe him an answer? "I don't need to give you one."

He held his hands up. "Sorry, you're right. So you were a child soldier then?" His tone was questioning, but he wasn't actually asking. "Were you conscripted?"

Another flash, this time it was more running, my mom half dragging me behind my father and sister. We were trying to get back to our house in the outskirts of the city… why? Why hadn't we headed for evac?

Technically, I volunteered.

"No."

"You weren't conscripted, but you were a child soldier…" He fell silent again, probably thinking about some other question to annoy me with. Why was I playing along?

Explosions, plasma bombardment, gunfire. We made it to the transit out of town and were heading away from the city under siege. Had the evac centers been compromised? Were we going back to the house to wait for a UNSC rescue? The local militia was the only standing defense our colony had, and I doubt they would have been prepared for a Covenant assault.

"Something happened to your home when you were young, didn't it? Nothing else makes sense; you weren't conscripted, but you didn't have a choice but to fight."

He was only half right: my home was destroyed, but I had a choice. I could have been put into foster care, waited for adoption somewhere else, to be taken to a new home that would get destroyed by the Covenant yet again. The next time though, I'd probably die too, like I should have the first time around. Like everything I knew had.

No, I chose to fight. Though… besides revenge, I'm not sure why.

That might be all there is.

… Maybe.

"The question is who attacked you? Was it Raiders? The Brotherhood? The Enclave? Gunners? There are plenty of people out there who do that sort of thing."

No- it wasn't any of your half-assed post-apocalyptic wannabe soldiers.

We were home, but there was gunfire everywhere, both plasma and conventional. Shouting. Running. A scream.

It was something you people could never imagine.

An explosion. Splintered wood flew everywhere. Someone landed on me… or what had been someone before the left side of their torso had been blown away.

"Then of course there's the possibility you weren't that lucky. It could have been any number of mutated freaks out there."

My mother rolled the body off me and pulled me to my feet- but- but something was wrong. As she did, she screamed, but the scream was cut short as a Kig-Yar jumped onto her shoulders and tore her throat out. Her blood flew everywhere. In an instant I was covered in it, and she fell to the ground in front of me, several more of the aliens piling on her. Someone else yelled before a sickening tearing sound I now know was a plasma sword cutting through flesh silenced them.

Image after image, sights, sounds. Smells. They flew through my mind like water through a broken dam.

"Were you on your own for a while afterward, or did someone find you right afterward?"

There were only a few of us left. I couldn't remember the faces of the others… I was too preoccupied watching in horror as the Kig-Yar tore into the bodies of the dead. Blood covered everything: the floors, walls, me, aliens. This sticky and slippery crimson mess that smelled like death itself. I watched them pile onto the broken bodies that had once been my family: my mom, my dad, my sister. There were others too, friends, other families, people I'd known for my entire, short, life. Awful, wet tearing noises filled the air, more blood- more blood spraying everywhere.

"It must have been someone with advanced tech."

I didn't realize… the Kig-Yar, those avian bastards- they were eating the dead. Treating the people that had been my life like… just food…

LIKE THEY WERE JUST FOOD.

"Could you at leas-"

I shot to my feet. "ENOUGH!"

The detective started. "Whoa, hey, calm down. I didn't mean to hit a nerve."

My muscles were clenched so tight, it felt like I would tear every ligament in my body. My hands balled into fists, shaking uncontrollably. Rage, confusion, pain, loss, numbness, and countless other emotions swirled together with a deluge of thoughts that assaults every corner of my mind. It was like the box I'd shoved these memories into, the events that drove me to become what I am today, burst open and the years of anguish and rage, sadness and fear all came pouring out at once. I've spent so long hiding from it, I didn't know what to do with all of it. The storm just sat there, tearing everything that could be considered a coherent thought into a million pieces and scattering it to the far corners of my head.

Breathe.

I couldn't. My breath hitched in my chest and wouldn't move. A red veil fell over the world as the rage boiled over. My hands flexed, needing to tear into something, break something, crush it into dust, just like my past, my life.

But there was nothing.

Nothing besides the already broken fort around me, and the only other person was Valentine. I couldn't take my pain out on the detective, he was an ally, and as much as my body needed to act, move… hurt, I at least had enough coherent thought to remember that.

My mind tried desperately to regain control, put the memories back in the confined section of my mind, an area I and the shrinks at ONI had worked so hard to reinforce.

I couldn't. The walls were broken, the memories were out and no matter how hard I tried, they filled every corner of my beleaguered mind. I was never taught how to deal with this, was never meant to deal with this; it's why ONI spent so much time helping me push it away.

"Damon, you've got me a little worried. What's up?"

Who- Valentine. I snapped back to the world around me. The detective was staring up at me, still seated, but he'd pulled his legs toward him, ready to spring to his feet.

"I-" There was nothing, I couldn't find the will to reject the question… Normally, it was easy, I was hiding from the memories, so it was simple to keep other people's probing questions at bay, I was constantly doing it to myself as it was. Now- now all I could think about was the blood splattered interior of my childhood home. The bodies, the smell.

My legs unclenched with a suddenness that caught me off guard; before I had time to realize it, I'd thudded back down to the broken floor.

"My home was attacked when I was five. My family was butchered in front of me." Even to my ears, my voice sounded distant, hollow, disconnected.

Valentine paused for a moment, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity, confusion, and sorrow. "Ah." The reply was only a short acknowledgment, but I could hear the 'that explains a lot' underneath.

He was right wasn't he? My eyes drifted down to my hands, resting in my is who I am underneath everything I'd built up over the past 15 years: just some scared, broken kid hiding from his past.

"Pathetic right? I'm supposed to be a weapon, efficient and emotionless, but I can't deal with what happened to me." I ostensibly said it to the detective, but it was meant for me as much as anyone else.

"No, it isn't." I looked back up at the Synth; he was staring at me with an intensity I hadn't seen from him before. "You know- I can't understand what you've been through, but you make a lot more sense now. Unfortunately, it's a tale I hear all too often: children orphaned and forced to fight to survive. You watched your family get killed, and all you've known since is fighting, I don't think anyone would be put together after a life like that. There's more you aren't telling me, but I don't need it to get a good idea of why you are the way you are."

If only it were that simple. Sure, I fought to survive while deployed, I quietly eliminated the UNCS' enemies so other people could continue leading their blissfully unaware lives. But it isn't the same as being forced to fight to survive. I could have chosen to continue with a civilian's life, tried to pick up the pieces in a new place with a new family. I chose this instead. My motivations aren't as… authentic as fighting to live; I decided to fight because I was angry. Maybe that's why ONI decided to turn me into their favorite pet weapon.

The images of blood and viscera scattered across the inside of my childhood home paraded through my head once again. The sounds of tearing flesh, squawking Kig-Yar, and the distant weapons' fire only made things worse. An involuntary shiver tingled its way from the base of my neck all the way down my spine. I'd done my share of gruesome things, to both humans and Covenant, but that was… savagery on an entirely different level.

My attention was pulled back to the world around me as Valentine cleared his throat. It occurred to me at least a minute had passed in silence. What am I supposed to say?

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been on your own?"

Ever since that day. Of course there were other trainees around, at least for the first year or so. On active duty, I'd interacted with several teams of ops analysts, informants, and Fourier's squad for the past few months. None of those mattered; I've been on my own for the better part of a decade and a half now. Maybe that's my choice, maybe it's because I don't know how to deal with people anymore.

Outside of fighting that is.

"Since the attack."

The detective squinted. "With training and gear like yours? I find that hard to believe, friend."

"There's a difference between being alone and none else being around."

"Ah, I guess that makes sense given the circumstances."

Is this where he gives me the 'you don't have to be alone anymore' line? That one came at me almost daily from Fourier, Amanda, Liam, and the shrink- what was his name? Jamie?

"Well like I said, I can't imagine what you've been through or what it's like, but Ellie and I are both great listeners." I nodded, but talking with someone about this seemed… wrong, especially here, a place that can never relate to what I've seen or done. Especially when I haven't confronted what happened for a decade and a half. "If you're going to continue working with Nate, I'd recommend you at least tell him what you have me."

I did- at least some of it. Besides, that implied I would continue dragging the man along with me.

"I haven't made that decision yet."

The detective let out a low, humorless chuckle. "He isn't going to stop, I know you know that too."

"I do."

"Then the safest way for him to do it is with you."

"Yes."

"So it would be easier for both of you if he understood where you're coming from… and maybe a bit of how you see the world."

Tell the ex-soldier something that personal? If I'd had better control over my emotions I wouldn't have said anything to Valentine, so talking with Nate about it now wasn't ideal.

"I don't need anyone's pity."

"It ain't about pity, it's about working together." He cocked his head. "Oh, you haven't done much of that either."

"That isn't the only reason I don't want to bring him."

"I know, I know, he gets in your way; that's why I'm saying knowing what happened to you might help him understand how you're going to react to a situation."

Everyone keeps saddling me with this guy. "Why do you want me to work with him?"

Valentine shrugged. "Guy wants his son back. I don't think there's a better reason to."

As much as I wanted to argue, the images of my father, my mother, my neighbors, fighting a losing battle to protect us even as the Covenant closed in flashed into my head. Not SPARTANs, regular humans standing against the aliens for the people they cared about. Many of them served in the local militia, but none had been at the time. They did everything they could to save the people they loved. Nate was going to do the same. Just like if I had been there to defend my home now, everyone would still be alive, I could help Nate get his son back. Without my help though…

"I'll think about it."

Notes:

Ah yes, the double entendre chapter title. There have been a few times flashbacks have told Damon's story, but it's really the first time he has remembered it with that level of detail. This one is a bit difficult to explain so I thought I'd put a short description at the end of this chapter. Damon had blocked his memories of what happened during the Covenant attack; this is pretty common for traumatic events, especially when they happen to younger kids. He'd begun remembering parts of it before being dropped into this crazy story, but the concussion he had at the beginning sped things up a bit (your brain has to do a lot of repair work when you have a major concussion, this has a habit of jogging old memories). This is the beginnings of him dealing with what's happened to him, and how it changed him.

Chapter 9: Confusing Times

Notes:

Hello everyone and well wishes from my strange perch atop the world of unusual crossovers. I apologize, this chapter doesn't have a whole lot of action but there are reasons for that (character development *gasp*). Anyways, I won't waste more of your time so you can waste it reading my work (:D). As always, enjoy!

The dark sky dotted with motes of light was just as incredible as it had been every night so far. The experience was strange; the stars never made it through the ever present light pollution of most modern cities. Being in the center of what had been a major city and looking up to see a sky that would make the most remote forests jealous was… odd.

In the half hour since leaving Fort Hagen, we had come across several stray dogs, a few more of the giant hairless rats, and what seemed to be half meter long cockroaches. They all made for quick knife work; from what Valentine had said, I was expecting a bit… more.

I had discarded the laser rifle and retrieved mine from the detective. It was a perfectly serviceable weapon, but it was also Institute tech; better to stick with something familiar long term.

There hadn't been any signs of Brotherhood patrols, but that didn't mean anything; snipers and scouts made a living off of observing unnoticed, and these guys would certainly be better than Raiders. It was impossible to tell if we were being watched in an area like this, especially at night.

On the other hand, maybe it was best nothing more dangerous had come out yet. As much as I tried, I couldn't get my head back on straight. The flood of memories had calmed, but the images and emotions still occupied the majority of my processing power. Fighting anything tougher might prove… problematic. The issue was I had never meant to confront… whatever the cocktail of sadness, anger, pain, loss, and numbness was. I never expected to live long enough to. None of my handlers or trainers ever told me, but it didn't take long to figure out III's were 'disposable'. That had been fine by me, as far as I was concerned, the scared little boy I'd been died along with everything I knew. If whatever I had become didn't last long either, so be it.

Guess neither of those worked out. Turns out I'm a lot better at surviving than ONI or I gave myself credit for. Same way it turns out that scared little kid wasn't gone.

Valentine had been quiet since we finished talking about Nate. Once we were out of the fort, he was silent for obvious reasons, but we sat in silence for several hours before leaving. Was he doing that to let me think, or was he trying to find more questions?

It didn't matter, I needed to focus on getting my head back in the right place, moving forward, and getting to the Institute. That's what I was telling myself at least, but it didn't have the same ring as normal. I had a feeling, no matter how hard I tried to shut that door, it was open for good now.

Good, maybe it's time for me to come to terms with it.

And how is that going to help me get to the Institute.

Probably won't, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be done.

That doesn't mean it should either.

And if I have another reaction like that?

… Right.

Sporadic neighborhoods blended into suburbs, and then the city proper. A few more random, small animals tried their luck, but I barely noticed as I sent them to join their pals. Once we were in the city, the threat of Supermutants pushed me to regain at least some semblance of my usual perceptiveness. The last thing I needed at this point was for one of those things to pop off a random shot and hit Valentine.

Eventually, the lights from Diamond City began seeping through the broken, crumbling buildings that had once been Boston. A few minutes of skirting down alleyways and climbing over piles of rubble later, Valentine and I found ourselves in front of the large lot surrounding the stadium, illuminated by powerful floodlights. After a moment of waiting, and a short conversation with the guards, we were walking back through the tunnel into Fenway Park.

Nothing had really changed since we left the day prior, I was only one step closer to my objective but… everything felt different. The bustling crowd at the center of town was much smaller than it had been during the day, but the din seemed to pierce deeper into my head than it had before. The multitude of colorful signs felt more vibrant than they were the first night here. Even the people milling around the place were less… muted.

"Hey." I turned to the detective; he was studying me with that same, appraising gaze. "You still thinking about the attack?" His tone was a lot more mellow than it had been back at Hagen. Was that because he was afraid of me too?

"Why?"

"You didn't seem as sharp on the walk back. And now you're standing there staring at the market like you've never seen people before."

Damn, if he noticed I wasn't all there…

It is his job to see things like that.

"Yes."

"Makes sense- seems like you've been packing that down for a long time. I don't make a very good shrink, but if you don't want to talk to Nate about it, I'd tap Ellie on the shoulder. She knows her way around… rough memories."

How would talking about this help? I don't need to understand those memories, I need them to leave me alone.

And if they won't until I understand them?

Then- I don't know. I don't know what to do with any of this.

Maybe it would be best to listen to someone who does.

They don't either. They haven't had to deal with the Covenant.

No, but they seem well acquainted with traumatic experiences.

I don't want to talk with anyone about something that personal.

And if it gets in the way of finding the Institute?

No answer came to mind. I was in no state of mind to handle a difficult engagement, but I didn't see how talking to a stranger about problems I didn't understand would help matters.

The internal argument wasn't going to get me anywhere, so I shrugged and started toward the detective's office. Valentine followed after with a muttered "good talk".

As I squeezed myself into the small shack, Nate, who was sitting on one of the decrepit chairs in the center of the room with Ellie across from him, regarded me with a mixture of anger, frustration, and hope. I moved out of the doorway to allow the detective to enter, but the ex-soldier's gaze never left me. I'm not sure why but… it was difficult to meet his eyes.

Ellie was the first to break the silence.

"I don't see any new holes, I'll take that as a sign of success."

Valentine nodded. "Yep. Soldier boy made us wait until nightfall with the Brotherhood making their grand entrance which-"

"The Brotherhood?" Alarm crept over the woman's face.

"One problem at a time Ellie. That's why we didn't make it back until late, but our resident one man army made sure Kellogg won't be hurting anyone again."

Nate squinted at me. "He's dead?"

Valentine nodded. "Took a shot to the head. Pretty sure that isn't survivable, even for that bastard."

"So how'd adding another body to the count feel?"

The anger in his voice woke a small portion of the latent irritation I'd come to associate with the ex-soldier.

"Nate, it's probably a good idea to leave him alone at the moment. The… fight was a bit more difficult than I think our friend was expecting."

"Oh yeah? You're p-"

Ellie stood. "What did you find?"

"I think Kellogg was waiting for you to find him", Valentine motioned at the smaller man and pulled out the drive. "He made this. Judging from who made it for him, I'm guessing it's a memory drive."

The secretary look surprised. "Amari?" Valentine nodded. "It's too late to see her tonight, but you should be able to drop in tomorrow."

Nate's attention switched from me to the small drive the detective was holding. "Memory drive?"

"There's a business in Goodneighbor called the Memory Den. If I'm right, this will have fragments of Kellogg's memory, most likely related to what's happened to your son."

If you're right? He told us it does.

"So… we go there and watch them?"

Ellie shook her head. "No, it's a Brain-Machine Interface that lets you relive experiences or live new ones."

BMI? They have BMI's they use for recreation, yet they're living in the ruins of a stadium?

"Why would he make something so complicated?"

"That I don't have a great answer for", Valentine replied. "Best guess is he didn't just want you to know the information, but wanted you to understand it from his perspective."

The ex-soldier recoiled. "Why would I want to do that?"

"We won't know until you dive in and take a look."

"Why me?"

"Well I can't, Ellie had… a bad experience there once, and I seriously doubt he will." The detective motioned at me.

Nate grimaced, but still nodded. "Okay. It's to get Shaun back, I'll do whatever I need to."

"Good. On that front", Valentine looked at me, "I think you should sit this part out."

"Why?"

"The route from here to Goodneighbor is pretty safe, and you being there would draw too much unwanted attention. The people there, they don't scare easy. They're more likely to shoot at you than run away, no matter how big and scary you are."

Leave an op to someone else? That isn't something I did; it's hard enough to trust people I'm running one with, but to remove myself from the picture completely? Especially with this many unknowns? That seems like a very bad idea.

"I'm not comfortable with that."

"Oh", Nate muttered, "so now being left behind is a problem."

Valentine smirked. "That isn't a surprise but I know Goodneighbor, and I know the type of person who lives there. Trust me when I say you're the type of person they'd want to pick a fight with."

"Until one of them does."

"Maybe, maybe not. No point in taking that risk. I know the place's mayor, we'll be safe."

Didn't I have the same thought when we first got to Diamond City? That the attention I drew probably outweighed any protection I could provide? If Goodneighbor is even close to the same size, and the people there are more likely to engage, wouldn't the same logic hold?

But leaving this up to Nate? That didn't sit right.

If it gets the job done, oh well.

My indecision must have come across in my body language. "Look friend, if you insist on going, well there isn't much we can do to stop you. If you want this to go off without too much trouble though, you'll trust me."

He hasn't given me a reason to doubt him so far.

By what? Staying out of the way during a fight?

Yes, and he's clearly intelligent. Besides, if he has experience in Goodneighbor, it would make sense to listen to him. It's the same as listening to any field asset during an op.

And I need some time to sort out this mess I call a head.

"Fine."

Valentine exhaled. "Thank you. We'll leave in the morning, I think right now would be a good time for some shut eye."

The others nodded their agreement, but I wasn't in any mood to sleep. What else was I going to do though? Sit here and wallow in the mess of thoughts and memories that was my mind? That isn't going to help. Wander around the stadium? I don't need to call more attention to myself. Scout the city? I wasn't in any condition to fight a competent enemy, and accidentally killing someone I wasn't supposed to would only cause more problems.

So as the others settled down to sleep, I was sitting in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Nate and Valentine each cast several glances in my direction, both for clearly different reasons, but I wasn't about to talk with either of them about the torrent in my head.

Unless I can fall asleep, it's going to be a long night.

Yeah… I didn't see that happening.

I should be going with them.

Not if my presence puts the group in danger.

"You have someone with you this time; do your best to stay out of trouble."

And if they get in trouble anyways?

Valentine has survived this long without me; he knows how to handle himself.

Valentine grinned at his secretary. "It's just Goodneighbor."

It's never a good idea to leave things like this up to others, especially non-SPARTANS in dangerous situations.

"And you haven't made any enemies there."

Because I've never screwed an op.

"Well… you know how it goes there."

I'm going to regret this...

"Don't worry, I won't let anything happen to him." Nate glanced at me. "I might not be as good at killing people as him, but I spent most of my life fighting." The guy was taking a shot at me at the same time he was trying to assure Perkins; well the dislike is mutual.

"Most of the people there have been too." She shook her head. "It's fine, but if you come back with any more holes in you, I'm chaining you to your desk, understood?"

Valentine gave her an only half mocking salute. "Yes ma'am." The detective's attention switched to me. "Take some time, do a little thinking. You'll be surprised how much good sorting all that out will do you."

Probably not. I shrugged.

The secretary scowled at him. "Stop being so nosey and go."

He laughed as the two of them began toward the door. "That's kinda my job Ellie."

Once the door swung shut, Ellie walked past me, back to the desk and sat down. She pulled a bottle from one of the drawers and drank.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. I'm from Goodneighbor and Nick is right: that place can be dangerous, but they do have their own… strange sense of integrity."

I looked down at the woman. Was I concerned they would be attacked?

Would I want to go with them so badly if I wasn't?

I'm concerned about them fumbling the op.

Considering the only way I could assist is keeping them safe, isn't that the same thing?

"I just like to remind Nick he needs to be more careful. He's always been rough looking, but that body of his has gathered a few new dings and dents over the years."

She said she was from Goodneighbor? "You lived there?"

Ellie nodded. "Yep. I even met Nick there a long time ago."

"What threats will they face?"

She smiled. "Just thugs and overpriced vendors. It is good to know you care about their safety, but really, they'll be okay. John Hancock, the mayor there, he and Nick are on good terms."

"They are the only lead I have to the Institute."

"All the same, thank you for getting Nick back here from both the Vault and your fight with Kellogg safe."

"It's my-" An image of my parents, and the other members of our neighborhood fighting the incoming Covenant flashed through my head and I faltered.

Was it their job to fight?

This isn't the same. These people aren't my family, they're a means to an end.

"Job?" My attention snapped back to the secretary. "That's fine, it doesn't mean what you did was any less important. Nick and I have helped more people than I can remember, but each one is important, and both of us are emotionally invested every time."

What they did and what I do are completely different.

So? Why does that mean what she's saying isn't applicable?

"Would you mind running a few errands with me? We're running a bit low on a few things."

It's better than sitting in here alone to stew in my own self pity.

I nodded.

"Great!" She stood and pulled a small pouch from the desk, the telltale rattle of bottle caps within. I still couldn't grasp how they'd adopted that as the standard form of currency. With the pouch tucked into a pocket, the secretary led me out into the morning sun.

Noise from the bustling market was omnipresent, but now the din was loud enough to interfere with the sea of images and emotions I was still doing my best to control. Several people were milling in the alley outside; each of them stopped and stared as I emerged from the small shack.

"So", Ellie said as she began toward the market, "we just need to stop by three shops. By then I think our little away party should be there." She sounded unaware of the glares, but her subtle glances at the people around us said she knew exactly what these people were thinking.

People here are different. I guess it comes with the territory.

I felt the stares follow me as we exited the isle and turned toward the already busy market. Just like last night, the cacophony of footsteps, talking, clattering wares, sizzling food, and whatever else was filling the air seemed to reach deeper into my mind than before. What was happening?

What hadn't changed was the overwhelming flood of information my already beleaguered mind struggled to process.

The secretary began skirting the edge of the crowd, thankfully staying out of the bustling tangle of people. She led me to a small storefront where she began speaking with the vendor there.

More stares from the collection of civilians damn near sent my body and eyes searching for the best cover.

Relax. Breathe.

Yeah, relax in the middle of all this. Right.

After what felt like an eternity of working our way around the shops, we began back toward the small office. When she wasn't speaking with the vendors, Perkins was talking about her time in Goodneighbor, her time with Valentine, some of their former partners, cases they've taken, and her opinions of Diamond City. It was… interesting, and at least gave me something to focus on besides the disaster zone that had once been my mind, and the deluge of sensory inputs around me. The secretary didn't seem to mind my lack of contribution to the one sided conversation.

Back in the alley leading to the shack, she turned to me. "Sorry, I forgot to ask: is there anything you needed?" I shook my head. "Okay, let's go put this crap away; I'd like to sort a few things out before they get back."

There was something strangely soothing about the way she spoke. It was almost like- almost like she was talking with a regular person. No clipped tone, no anger or fear, no prodding questions or requests. Even with the people at Sanctuary, there were guarded voices and careful choice of words. With Ellie, the chatter flowed as if talking with me was no more unusual than this shopping trip for her. The only time I'd experienced anything similar was with Fourier's squad, but even then, they were all IV's. No one is this comfortable around myself or the other III's I've seen.

Maybe these people are different.

How?

They've all clearly been through a lot and no one here knows where the older generation SPARTANs came from.

So when they find out what I am…?

Their attitudes probably won't change. Valentine's didn't. Unlike the UNSC, even during the last days of the War, most people were still oblivious to how bad things were. These people have to fight for their lives every day; it's possible what I am doesn't scare them.

What about the group in Sanctuary? They were clearly afraid, especially when we first met.

They were in a unique situation, right?

… Maybe.

Once we were back in the office, the secretary deposited her purchases with the rest of the supplies we'd taken from Kellogg's house before sitting at her desk. She glanced at me, still standing in the entryway, before pulling out a few folders and began leafing through them.

"It seems like something's bothering you, Damon." I cocked my head. "You look more uncomfortable than normal."

Than normal?

"What?"

"I don't take you for someone who gets distracted easily, but you've seemed that way since you and Nick got back last night. Did you two find something?"

You could say that.

"Why are you so comfortable around me?"

She gave me a questioning look. "Should I not be?"

"Most people aren't."

Perkins leaned back in her chair. "Well I'd be crazy if I didn't think you were a bit scary, but you don't strike me as a bad person. Maybe a bit awkward, but not malicious. I- I've dealt with plenty of those people."

My mind found the room to flash images of shooting, stabbing, and mauling humans and Covenant alike, destroyed insurrectionist bases, both allies and enemies glaring at me with naked disdain. Those memories mixed with the already painful recollections of my childhood home being torn away.

"A lot of people would disagree."

"Maybe, but those people aren't me."

My eyes narrowed. She didn't know me, we met three days ago. How could she come up with an opinion in that time? Especially given how little we've interacted.

"Why?"

"I wasn't sure until last night, when you were so determined to go with them but still conceded."

"It was the best course of action."

"Yes, but evil people with power like to use it whenever they can. And this morning, you may have been asking for your own peace of mind, but you seemed genuinely concerned for their safety."

"I told you, they're my best lead."

She shrugged. "That's true, but you don't need to convince me of anything."

"What makes you think it was anything else?"

Why am I having this conversation?

"Meeting with and talking to more people than I care to admit. Back in Goodneighbor, I met hundreds, maybe thousands of people from all walks of life. It's something you pick up on after enough time."

How will this help?

"And how would that help you understand me?"

"I've been around people- well maybe not people exactly like you, but similar. I can tell you've been fighting since you were young, and you don't know how to do much else; that can really mess with someone's head, and that you're still as well put together as you are says a lot."

I don't understand why I'm doing this. Despite my reservations, I felt myself dragged along by some strange force. It was like my mind was pulling me toward something, but I wasn't sure what.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you have a good head on your shoulders despite whatever happened; that takes a special type of person."

A good head on my shoulders? What did that mean? What did that mean to her? What did that mean to me?

"And you would know this how?"

The secretary frowned, suddenly looking very somber. "Goodneighbor had a bit of everything. That included orphans, kids who had to fight every day of their lives just to survive and do it again the next day. I saw more than a few of them do things… things I'd never imagine even the most cruel adult doing to get a scrap of food." She looked at me, eyes glassy with a film of tears. "I don't know if that's what happened to you, but I understand how a situation like that can destroy a person."

Even though she didn't have the slightest idea of what I'd been through, the secretary seemed to understand… somehow. I don't know if what I've done is 'cruel', at least not outside the realm of what was called for given the circumstances. Still, she hit strikingly close to home with the statement. Was that same sort of desperation driving me as well? I had a hard time buying that given my fight isn't one of survival. It was one of revenge.

Was it? Is it? The Covenant are gone and I'm still alive, aren't I? Despite everything? Have I been fighting for survival all this time?

No… I don't think so. I never intended to survive this long did I? That was just a happy coincidence (though, I doubt anyone outside of ONI was 'happy' about it). Killing Covenant was what drove me into the SPARTAN program. It's what kept me calm in countless unwinnable situations, kept me thinking, and saw me come out on top. Kept me going through injury that should have left me incapacitated. Even if that wasn't against the Covenant. Every op I successfully completed was one more chance to go back in the field and take more of my anger out on those bastards.

Was it?

What else would it be?

I didn't respond for a while. This woman didn't know anything about what happened to me, but there was a quiet sort of understanding radiating from her and her soft, almost vulnerable gaze.

It was… odd. The expression almost felt inviting, like she was silently encouraging me to open up, to think, and to talk. It was disarming, slowly, gently pushing away walls I'd built for years to withstand any bombardment I could throw at them.

"I-"

She shook her head. "I don't need you to tell me anything about what happened, what you've done, or what you think about it. I just thought you should know, you may be intimidating, but I'm not scared of you. And I don't think you're a bad person." She smiled at me sadly. "Maybe just a bit lost."

'Not a bad person.' It wasn't a resounding endorsement, but it was… interesting to hear it from someone. I don't think anyone has ever said that. The feeling of, I don't know, comfort? was similar to how I felt a few times with the group in Sanctuary.

It was… strangely warm.

And suddenly the urge to talk about what happened flooded my mind, like telling someone would finally lift a ten ton weight from my chest. Not just what happened… but what happened to me.

But why? What good would telling her about the attack do?

What harm would it do? Do I have anything else to do at the moment?

It's personal.

I think it's pretty clear she respects that. Besides, is that going to be my excuse for the rest of my life?

I couldn't come up with a reasonable excuse, but it felt so wrong to tell someone I'd just met a few days prior about the attack. About what made me… me.

The secretary was still looking at me, her expression one of solemn understanding. But even though her face was almost calming, she didn't look expectant. Without saying anything, Perkins was telling me she knew how painful those memories were. She appreciated how difficult they were to talk about. Ellie didn't want me to tell her.

So I didn't. I did what was familiar: sat against one of the shack's supports and began disassembling my rifle.

As I did, Perkins began talking again. By the time I had the upper upper receiver off and bolt carrier out, she was deep into another story. This one wasn't hers though, it was about one of the children she had referred to earlier.

And that's how we spent the next hour: I disassembled, cleaned, and lubricated my rifle, handgun and the sniper, the secretary gave me a few rags, solvent, and oil, while she continued narrating stories. This time though, it was different; the chatter didn't feel like it was there to fill the empty space I generally left in a conversation. This time, her stories felt directed at me, like she was helping me understand… something. I wasn't sure what that something was, but it was… nice. It was nice to be around someone who didn't want anything from me, and was perfectly comfortable with me and my customary silence.

By the time a rap on the door signalled Nate and Valentine's return, my weapons were spotless, and my mind was a little better organized. I could almost call it peaceful.

The detective flopped down in another chair behind the desk while Perkins resumed her seated position. "That wasn't boring."

Nate eyed me as he stood in the doorway.

"What happened this time", the secretary asked.

"Same old, same old. Got a little visit from Hancock though."

"Nothing new?"

"Nope."

The ex-soldier's eyes hadn't left me. He looked hesitant; he hadn't moved from the entrance. Had Valentine said anything?

"So now you two need to work out how you're going to move forward."

Both of us shifted our eyes to the detective.

"What do you mean", Nate asked.

"Well, are you two going to stick together? I get the feeling you both have something the other wants at this point."

Continue working with the ex-soldier? When he interferes with everything?

Maybe Valentine is right, maybe I should talk with him.

Should I?

He was right about Ellie wasn't he?

He was…

Is two for two a major stretch?

I ran the thought back and forth. How would this work? I tell Nate and if he's still unwilling to cooperate I cut him loose? But how would telling him what happened help? Would he be able to understand or appreciate it?

If there's one thing I should give him the benefit of the doubt on it's that. He has technically spent more time on active duty than me. He's certainly seen his share of shit.

But would it help the situation?

He may be more sympathetic.

Right, because sympathy has served me so well in the past.

It might be helpful if I make a few concessions too. If he knows how to get to the Institute now, he has information I need. Valentine might be right about him too. Maybe I should bring him with me, he is trying to get his son back.

So I'm going to make that my problem too huh?

Maybe I need to have more sympathy here too.

I-

The image of my parents flashed through my head. The image of them giving everything to keep me safe, even if, realistically, it hadn't meant anything in the end.

Do I know that for sure? What if their fighting bought enough time for help? And now Nate is going to do the same thing. I can keep him from having to make the same sacrifice.

I exhaled through my nose, hard. Arguing with myself isn't going to get me anywhere. Might as well see where this goes. Probably a bit more palatable than forcing the information out of him.

I climbed to my feet and turned to the ex-soldier. He looked up at me with a mixture of expectation and curiosity.

"We should talk."

A few minutes later, we were sitting in the same section of the stadium we had two days prior, after rescuing Valentine.

"So what is this all about?"

My gaze lingered on the ex-soldier. I'd made the decision to talk with him, but now I was here, telling him seemed like the last thing I wanted to do. It wasn't the same as Perkins, she was- well- she had been sympathetic, without knowing anything about me. She'd managed to pick up on whatever ques I'd given, and got at least roughly in the right place. Nate… we've had enough disagreements, the thought of telling him left a bad taste in my mouth.

If I don't, things are never going to improve.

But I've barely known this guy a week. And to this point, he hasn't been cooperative.

Have I been?

No. Why would I be? I'm the one who has kept him alive thus far. Without my help, he would have died before making it out of Sanctuary.

And without his help I never would have made contact with Valentine.

"Well", the ex-soldier asked, glaring impatiently into my visor.

We barely know each other, and he expects me to be the one to start.

Yet I've talked with him more than anyone outside of my handlers. Also… I'm the one who said we need to talk.

… So where would I even begin?

The beginning.

… Alright.

"I'm willing to continue working with you, but we need to come to an understanding."

Shock crept onto the smaller man's face, but it was soon joined by skepticism. "What do you mean 'an understanding'?"

"If I'm going to keep both of us safe, you need to let me do that. Fighting is what I know."

"I already got that. You forget that I spent most of my adult life in the army."

"This isn't open warfare."

"And?"

"I've spent my entire life doing this."

"You keep saying that", the ex-soldier replied, irritated, "but that doesn't mean anything when all I see is you massacring people."

Is that supposed to be an insult? That's what I was made to do.

"It's why you're still alive."

"Yeah? You think I need to kill everything in my way to survive?"

This was going about as well as expected. "Not everything."

"Sure seems like it", he muttered. "So what are you asking me to do?"

"Follow orders; I've been surviving like this for a long time."

He squinted at me. "What do you mean?" The smaller man paused, eyes drilling into my visor. "You've deployed in situations like this?" His voice was incredulous.

"Similar."

There was no immediate response. The ex-soldier's face slackened and his expression drifted back to neutral. He was thinking about something, but what? The statement wasn't complicated.

"When you say 'a long time'", Nate said, eventually, "what do you mean?"

That's what he was thinking about? "Why?"

"Well- I mean you're good at what you do, but it's the only thing you're good at. Your interpersonal skills suck, you have no tact, and your use of force judgement is binary: kill or don't. It's like you've never done anything else."

I cocked an eyebrow behind my faceplate. Just 'good'? And it isn't 'like' I've never done anything else, I haven't done anything else.

Besides that, I couldn't help but notice this guy was trying to play shrink now. I guess I couldn't fault him, he seemed to pick up on the same ques and put the same pieces together as everyone else. It isn't as if I hide it.

"I'm not being hyperbolic when I say I've been doing this my entire life."

The ex-soldier squinted again. "I don't follow. Are you saying you grew up killing people? What are you, a child soldier?"

You could say that.

But what do I tell him? Do I tell him anything? He still doesn't know anything about my past: nothing about the attack, the SPARTAN program, my deployments (for the most part). I could end the conversation, or at least steer it down a different path. But that wasn't why I was here, was it? That strange drive at the back of my mind, the one telling me to just say it, was still there. Get the baggage off my chest that I've held onto for so long, even through all the pestering and prodding from Fourier's squad.

I told Valentine, at least a bit. Maybe it's time to dive all the way in.

Tell that to some stranger, in a different reality, on a destroyed version of Earth?

Why not?

Hmm. I took a slow, deep breath, uncertainty teasing into the still swirling mix of thoughts and emotions.

"I was."

He started. "You were? You were a child soldier? How old are you now?"

Another deep breath. Why was it so hard now? I didn't have a problem telling Valentine my age.

"20."

This time, Nate didn't respond immediately. The smaller man sat stone still, staring up at me, mouth agape, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"You're- you're only 20?"

I nodded.

"How- that doesn't make any sense. When did you- how old were you when you started fighting?"

"12", I replied. "But I started training at five."

Nate resumed his stare. "Fi- you started training-" The ex-soldier's shocked voice died mid-sentence. "Wait… back in Sanctuary, you said you joined because your parents died. And that they died when you were young. The Covenant attacked, right?"

The assumption I was going to open up about everything that has happened piqued my frustration again.

I am, aren't I? Why did I come here, or tell him what I have if I wasn't?

Because he thinks I owe him an explanation.

… Stop being childish.

Yet another deep breath.

"Yes. They attacked my home planet and killed- almost everyone I knew. Slaughtered them in front of me."

The shocked expression stayed in place on the smaller man's face for a few more moments. Ever so slowly, his gaping mouth began to drift shut and the ex-soldiers eyes returned to their normal size. The surprise was mostly gone, but in its place was a heavy dose of fury.

"So", he finally asked, voice barely audible, "what happened?"

He's asking for more detail? Does he think I want to relive those memories again?

At least he's showing some sympathy.

It's still irritating.

And I'm still being childish.

"They overran my planet's local militia. Attacked my home and tore everyone apart." I paused. How far did I want to go with this? The attack, that was one thing, but telling him about the SPARTAN program? My training? My operations? All of that, it somehow felt more personal than my childhood. I couldn't tell him about that. "Afterward, I was recruited by my government's version of covert intelligence and trained to become this." I motioned to myself.

"Wait." The smaller man's eyes grew wide once again, not with shock this time, but the anger that had been bubbling below the surface making itself known. "You were five when this happened and they conscripted you? Your own government forced you into this program after something like that? You've spent your entire life training and fighting? Did they ever give you counseling? Did they try to help you with what happened?"

"No, we weren't meant to reintegrate with society." I shrugged. "No reason to. And I volunteered, I wasn't conscripted."

"Like hell you weren't conscripted. A little kid who just watched his world torn apart can't make that decision." His voice climbed as he talked, well past angry by this point. But the idea I didn't make this decision, that I didn't know what I was doing when I agreed to join the SPARTAN program… that set my blood boiling. This was all I had, all I have. Him dismissing that as someone else's choice, or my mistake- no. This was my choice.

"You-"

"Don't assume I didn't know what I signed up for", I barked. Nate recoiled, but the fury didn't fade. "I did this to get back at those bastards."

Instead of responding, Nate stared at me, clearly trying to rein his emotions back in. Why was he this upset about something that happened to me? Something that I decided to do? This wasn't his problem, hell it hadn't been his war, or even his world. Who was he to say what was my decision and what wasn't? Who was he to toss his pity on me?

"So", he finally said, voice not as heated, but still clipped, "you've been trained to kill since you were five. That explains why you… are the way you are, and I'm guessing they did something to you during that time to make you", he motioned at me, "that. I just can't understand why they wouldn't help you cope with what happened."

At least the answer to that question is easy. "We're weapons. Most trainees in my class were considered disposable."

The ex-soldier grimaced. "What, you weren't worth the time?"

"No."

"That's disgusting."

"That's war."

"How can you accept that? Especially considering what happened to you?"

It's because of what happened to me. I got a front row seat to what the Covenant were doing to us. After that…? War was my entire world.

"Everything I knew was gone; I didn't have anything besides this."

He shook his head. "They had to know how much that can damage someone."

"I wasn't supposed to survive this long."

Some of his shock returned. "How so?"

How was I supposed to explain SPARTAN III's were essentially meant to be run to the ground and tossed out? That, outside of a few exceptions, the prior two classes were deployed only a few times, ending with suicide missions? How do I explain the severity of a war spanning three decades, hundreds of worlds, and billions of lives to someone who couldn't hope to grasp that concept. No one from this Earth had ever set foot on another planet.

What did that look like to me? What did this mean to me?

"I never intended to come back; I just needed to hurt the Covenant." I shrugged again. "Didn't matter what happened next."

"You never intended to come back? You were okay with- what, laying down and dying after killing a few of them?" The incredulity had rejoined the anger in his voice. And that annoyed me even more.

Of course not. Of course I wanted to continue surviving as long as possible. I wanted to keep fighting until there was nothing left, keep killing them until I'd taken at least some small portion of my fury and pain out on those bastards.

But when you're fighting a war like that…

"As far as I was concerned, I died alongside my family. We were all living on borrowed time, might as well do something with it."

The ex-soldier's mouth formed a small 'o' before he closed it. "Didn't you win?"

Did we win? Yeah, technically we won, but that doesn't do what it took justice. And it doesn't capture how truly fucked humanity had been if it weren't for a few lucky (or unlucky, depends on how you look at it) incidents.

It doesn't do what we lost justice. We'd survived, and that's about it. I guess you could say the same for me.

"23 billion people died, and we only won because the Covenant were attacked by… someone else."

The ex-soldier paled. "23 billion? How-" Whatever else he had to say died in his throat as he stopped, gaping at me.

"It was about 60% of the population."

It was several moments of relative silence before the smaller man finally regained his composure. "I see." The words were hollow, like he only said them to restart his stalled brain. "So, you were fighting a losing war, and because of what happened you didn't consider yourself a survivor, you were just sticking around to get payback for the people who died."

I'm still figuring that out; until yesterday, all of this was locked away in the back of my head.

"Close enough."

Nate took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he was having trouble listening to what I was saying.

It makes sense.

Why?

My life hasn't exactly been normal. The attack, the SPARTAN program, the War. He can't picture what any of that was like, but it's safe to say whatever he is imagining has him rattled.

That's how things are, too late to worry about it now.

But what if they could have been different?

What if they could have? I'd still hate the Covenant, I'd still be walking around pissed off all the time. At least I have a way to deal with that.

What if that could have been different too?

What if it could have…? How?

Maybe I get help, counseling, something when I'm still a kid. Someone helps me deal with it. Instead, ONI spent the better part of a decade training me to kill. Doesn't do much for emotional health or stability.

I don't need either of those things to fight.

But I would if I didn't join ONI.

Do I have any guarantee I would have been satisfied with that life?

Like I'm satisfied with this one?

Before my internal argument could go any further, the ex-soldier took another deep breath and opened his eyes. There was something new in them. The anger, fear, and borderline hatred he'd looked at me with since I wiped out half of Skinny Malone's men were gone. Mostly. Now… his gaze lingered on my visor with something akin to sadness.

Was it pity?

I didn't want it.

Not pity… It's close, but it isn't that…

"I think I get what you're trying to say." I cocked my head. "You're saying you know what you're doing because it's the only thing you've ever known." He paused, clearly struggling with what to say next. "And you did that because you thought it was the only thing you could do."

That was a decent takeaway. It's leaving a lot of baggage behind, but maybe he just didn't want to think about the implications.

"More or less."

The smaller man offered a sad smile. "Then I'll play along. I don't agree with you, with what happened to you, but turning you down won't help anything. Besides… maybe some good can come of it."

Is he saying he wants to help me?

Help me with what?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't think you do what you do just because you like killing people. That isn't what I thought five minutes ago."

I paused, looking the ex-soldier over. He thought I do what I do because I enjoy killing people? I enjoy fighting, it's what I do best, and that almost always results in at least someone dying. But does that mean I enjoy killing people?

No… I wouldn't say I do what I do because I enjoy it.

I'm a SPARTAN. I fight.

"Are you going to interfere?"

"Like I did with the Triggermen?" I nodded. "No, but this is a two way street; if I'm going to give you the info I have about getting to the Institute, you need to agree to let me have a say in what happens."

Let him have a say? He wants a partnership. One of the benefits of working alone was the ability to make snap decisions; I didn't have to worry about what someone else thought of the course of action.

Well, he has information I need, and if I can't make this work, it doesn't reflect well on my ability to adapt.

I don't need him for his information.

No I don't, but he does need me.

And?

Maybe, this one time, I can fight for something else.

Why?

Because it's the right thing to do.

The right thing to do huh?

I remained quiet, letting the thought float around my slowly calming mind. The right thing? It wouldn't be the first time I've done something because it was 'the right thing to do'. But not like this. Sanctuary? That was a matter of convenience as much as altruism. All of the Covenant encampments and Innie bases? I was ordered to, and at least with the Covenant, I couldn't lie to myself, I enjoyed that.

Fight for something else. Something other than being a SPARTAN.

… Fine. But if he puts me in unnecessary danger, I'm cutting him loose.

"As long as it doesn't escalate a situation."

"Killing everything isn't escalating the situation, huh", he mumbled. "Okay, I can live with that." Nate looked me up and down, as if he was re-evaluating his opinion of me.

It makes sense, considering.

"Any other questions?"

The ex-soldier shook his head. "I… probably don't want the answer to most of them." He offered a small, sad smile. "I think we should head back. We've got more present issues to talk about."

I nodded.

As I stood to return to Valentine's office, I felt… oddly satisfied. The memories were still present, like a millstone hanging around my neck, but the weight wasn't quite as daunting. Was it because I told someone else? Was it because Nate didn't seem unsettled? To the contrary, he suddenly seemed much more comfortable around me. Sympathy wasn't something I had much experience with, or use for, but if I could gather anything from the ex-soldier walking quietly beside me, it was the anger he levied toward me before had been replaced with sympathy.

Valentine and Perkins greeted us back inside the too small shack.

"Now you two have settled your differences, we need to figure out the next step."

"Kind of." Nate glanced up at me. "Well… we know this doctor, Virgil, is near Attleboro. You call it the 'Glowing Sea' now?"

I cocked my head. "Virgil?"

"He was a researcher who escaped from the Institute. It seems like the only way to get in or out is teleportation. Kellogg never actually went into the Institute so he didn't know how it worked, but this guy does. Apparently. Kellogg was supposed to track him down."

"Do you know where he is?"

"There was an old wildlife preserve to the northeast of the town; he's hiding out in a cave system there."

Considering the way this conversation was going, there was at least one major hold up.

Glowing sea… probably radiation. That wouldn't be an issue for me, but unless Valentine knew someone who had a spare radiation suit lying around, the detective is probably the only other one who would survive. And I doubt Nate would stay behind again.

"Radiation is gonna be a problem. And that's a long walk."

I looked at the detective. "How long?"

"Uh… I've never been through the Glowing Sea, it's just asking to get offed. But my best guess is 40 miles."

Nate nodded. "That's about right. Is I-95 still there?"

"The highway? Yeah… parts of it are. Once you get to the Sea it gets pretty dicey; almost everything was destroyed when the nuke detonated over the area."

The ex-soldier looked at me. "I'm guessing your armor is radiation proof."

"Nothing is radiation proof."

He sighed. "You know what I mean."

"I'll be fine."

"So we just need something for me."

Perkins turned to one of the filing cabinets behind the desk. "I think we might have someone who can supply a radiation suit. It won't be cheap though…"

"We can figure that out."

I had the feeling the radiation wouldn't be the largest problem with this little excursion. "Why would going into the Glowing Sea be a good way to die?"

"Oh, pick a reason." Valentine shrugged. "That much radiation, any number of mutated, murderous things roaming around the area. I've heard the area's infested with Deathclaws. On top of that, there are plenty of irradiated pools that are so contaminated they'll seep straight through the best suit, plenty of ghouls, Supermutants, and who knows what else. Probably the best representation of 'hell on earth' we're ever gonna get."

What the hell is a Deathclaw? And why did he mention it specifically?

Nate looked perturbed too. "Deathclaw?" Guess he had the same question I did.

"Giant lizard looking bastards. I've only seen a few, from a distance; they're usually around 8-10 feet tall, each strong and tough enough to take down a band of raiders."

Oh? Something that can take a group of armed… drug addicts? Even if they weren't the most tactically sound (that's an understatement), that was impressive for a wild animal.

I felt the ex-soldier's eyes turn on me for a moment. "Do you think these 'Deathclaws' would be able to take him?"

Valentine chuckled. "From what I've seen, one or two probably wouldn't. More than that… I guess it depends on how creative you two can get."

Creativity is my thing. "Capabilities?

"I couldn't give you specifics, never had the misfortune of fighting one, thank god. I've heard stories of them being bulletproof, strong enough to rip a man in half, teeth and claws sharp enough to dig through anything but power armor. I'm sure there's some embellishments, but there's always a grain of truth to every lie.

Nothing is bulletproof either. Might be my first chance to use the sniper.

I wonder if it's sighted properly… That was a good question; this thing had been in the hands of Raiders. It was clearly well maintained, but those assholes couldn't land a shot to save their lives (literally).

They killed several people in Preston's group.

With the number of rounds they wasted, they were bound to hit something on accident, and that isn't relevant to the question.

"Oh boy… this keeps getting better and better."

"There's a reason this guy decided to hide in that hellscape."

From the sounds of it, the doctor's choice of location makes sense as long as he intends to stay put. It also makes sense why the Institute would want to send Kellogg after him instead of one of their Coursers.

"If this area is as dangerous as you say, we'll need to camp outside the radiation zone for a night."

Nate nodded his agreement. "I doubt we would be able to make it there in a day anyways. And I'd rather not sleep in a place that actively tries to kill me." He frowned. "The problem is the affected area starts about 10 miles north of where the doctor is hiding."

Shit. 16 kilometers… we aren't making that both ways in one day. Not if I have to bring Nate. I won't be able to on my own if I have to fight my way to this hideout either.

The most dangerous areas often make the best defenses.

"That isn't happening in one day either."

The others didn't respond. Knowing what I do now, the Institute throwing Kellogg at this problem makes sense. We don't have any other paths forward; I needed to figure out some way to make this work.

"We're forgetting something here." Nate and I both looked at the detective who was studying me, frowning. "If you're on the Brotherhood's radar, they're coming after you sooner rather than later."

… Well shit.

Notes:

And thus we conclude this episode of 'what happens when there is no fighting'. Now I'd understand this seems a little early in the story for all of this to come out, but for anyone who has seen or been through traumatic experiences, you understand this first step of realization is the beginning of a very long journey. And our SPARTAN friend isn't going to have the easiest time of it either. I am going to leave a tentative date for the next chapter, but I'm moving to a new state for work and my life is going to be a bit hectic for the next few months. I will attempt to keep my schedule (I usually have a few chapters written ahead of time) but I can't promise anything.

Chapter 10: Welcome to the Neighborhood

Notes:

I offer my greetings from the land of the destroyed and home of the insane. In today's episode of 'SPARTANs in a place they don't belong' we're finally going to get a taste of the Brotherhood in all their... um... glory? (Gonna be honest, the philosophy behind this version of the BOS is really interesting, but it's borderline fascism) I actually rewrote this chapter several times because I really didn't know how I wanted the main characters to react to them. In the end I settled on something I think will make sense considering the past/temperament of our heroes (yes, Nate is still a hero in this story too), and move the story in the right direction. As always, be sure to leave a review, I always love reading what you all think and enjoy! (This was a very long author's note).

"What?" Nate's look of concern deepened. "So you think they'll come here looking for us?"

"Well", Valentine replied, "if they're half as smart as they are well equipped, they'll already know Diamond City is the place to go if you want to find someone. There have been rumors of their guys scouting the area too so it wouldn't surprise me."

It wasn't a bad guess, but it wouldn't be the whole picture. Given Boston's size and the threat profile around it, deploying an advanced party to the outskirts would only make sense if there was already one in the city keeping tabs on things. Hell, they were probably in Diamond City, both because it's safer, and any information they could gather around the city would nexus through it. On top of that, if you're going to perform a major operation, having intel on any major players is a must.

"If they're competent, they know we're here."

Perkins, Valentine, and Nate all looked over to me.

"Why is that", the detective asked.

"They probably have a plant in the city."

"And you know this how?"

"It's what I would do."

The three of them grew silent. Valentine and Perkins were probably thinking about the implications for their town. Nate looked more curious than anything.

"So let's pretend you're right", the secretary finally said, "what does that mean for us?"

I shrugged "Nothing yet. It's just a scout."

"But you think they'll come here because they know you two are here?"

I nodded.

The detective crossed his arms. "Don't you think they'd be more interested in you than him?" He nodded at Nate.

"Don't know. Probably, but they may want both."

"Okay, so what do you want to do then?"

"Go with them. If we don't they'll treat us like an active threat."

Valentine squinted. "What?"

Nate's expression morphed into one of astonishment. "Wha- you just want to go with them and see what happens?"

"Or we can fight a militia of unknown size and capability with no intel or support."

Valentine nodded. "Not to mention the amount of power armor they'll bring. And Vertibirds. And advanced weapons. And there's the innocent people who would be caught in the crossfire."

"And what if they don't want to just let us leave when we're done?"

It was a good question; I wouldn't let an unknown party who had kicked the shit out of one of my best walk. But I wouldn't have announced my presence like them either. There were certain things anyone with experience can predict, but it's never a sure thing.

"They probably won't, but it will give me a better idea of what I'm dealing with."

"You're assuming you'll be able to get away", Nate replied.

I cocked my head at the smaller man. Dealing with lopsided situations is what I do. For someone like me, for a SPARTAN, there are always holes I can pry open.

He shot me a flat expression. "You're assuming you'll be able to get both of us away."

Before I could respond, a dull whump, whump, whump began pounding its way through the shack's thin walls.

"Vertibirds are prop-driven, correct?" The only one I'd seen was on the roof of the museum in Concord; it had looked like it, but the vehicle was so damaged, I didn't want to assume anything.

"Yeah", Nate nodded. As he answered, the beating blades grew loud enough for everyone else to hear as well. "Oh… that was fast."

"We shouldn't be here when they arrive."

"Huh?"

I motioned at Ellie and Valentine. "Too dangerous, no point in involving them."

The Synth chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure meeting them would go over really well."

"You need to lay low for a while; they'll know we made contact."

He shrugged. "Not many places we can hide."

"Hey", Nate responded, "what about Sanctuary?"

It was possible, I'd never talked with anyone there about Synths outside of Sturges, but he hadn't seemed adverse to them.

Ellie frowned. "Sanctuary Hills?"

"Yeah, up north. Do you know where it is?"

"I know the area."

"There's a settlement there." The ex-soldier motioned at me. "He helped set it up."

The sound of the approaching aircraft's whirring blades steadily grew louder as they spoke.

"Well…" Ellie looked from Valentine to me and back. "I guess after everything that's happened recently, we could both use a break."

The Synth smiled. "Oh, so you're calling the shots now? I thought the sign outside said 'Valentine'."

"One of us has to be responsible."

"I-"

"In the past few weeks you've managed to get captured by the Triggermen, start tracking down the Institute using Kellogg of all people, and somehow get involved with some sort of supersoldier being hunted by the Brotherhood of Steel. I don't think you have any room to talk at the moment."

The woman's tone was playful, but firm.

It wasn't a bad idea, but the problem was they would have to traverse the city and, as Nate and I found out, that can be dangerous at the most inopportune times. "Can you get there safely?"

Ellie nodded. "There are plenty of merchant caravan escorts who will do this sort of work for just about anyone; shouldn't be a problem getting one to take us out of the city."

"Good, leave before they have time to divert their attention from us."

The detective nodded as well.

"Oh, and avoid Cambridge", Nate said, "the Brotherhood have an outpost set up in the police station there." He paused for a moment and looked down at the German Shepard sitting at his side. "Can you take him with you too? If this goes sideways, I don't think having him along would be a good idea."

Ellie knelt in front of the dog and scratched behind his ears, much to his delight. "Of course. We'll make sure he's safe at Sanctuary with us." She looked up at Nate. "But we won't be staying there long, we have a responsibility to the people around here."

"I understand; hopefully we can get this over with quickly and they don't dig any deeper."

That isn't going to happen, not with what the Brotherhood are. If Danse's opinion of Synths and the Institute were consistent with the rest of the Brotherhood, the detective would be on their short list. Distance can only keep you safe for so long. They'd find him eventually.

"Got it. Don't let the Brotherhood kill you, got me?"

The ex-soldier glanced at me. "I don't think that will have much to do with me."

"Well, I doubt he's going to do much talking, so you can decide if he needs to do his thing or not."

He offered an uncertain smile. "We'll see about that."

"Just try not to start a war with them yet. We don't need more trouble around here." The statement was only half sarcastic.

That isn't up to us. Shit is going to hit the fan, it's a question about when.

"I'll do my best", the ex-soldier replied. "Safe travels, and I can't thank you enough for the help."

"You saved my life, I don't think this was much to pay for that." The detective looked at me. "I- good luck."

His expression said he was thinking about my past, my state of mind, if I had my head on straight, but he didn't know how I'd respond if he asked. It was fair, I didn't either. There was still so much I didn't understand, so much still trying to make itself the center of my attention. But… the memories weren't as pressing as they had been the day before, not as painful as they were this morning. I needed to get my head back in the game, but at least it was better than it had been.

"We'll be fine."

The concern on his pockmarked face softened. "That's good to hear."

I nodded. "Let's get moving."

With that I led Nate out of the small shack. Outside the beating of the Vertibird's blades was heavy enough to concuss the air. The rate was too high for just one; they had two rotors, but the pounding was coming far too fast.

I stopped a half dozen paces from the office and turned back to look down at Nate.

"You need to follow my lead with these people."

The ex-soldier arched an eyebrow back up at me. "And why is that?"

"I spent most of my time dealing with militias."

"I can't help but think that 'dealing' involved a lot of 'killing'." After several seconds without a response, the smaller man sighed. "It may not seem like it, but I do trust you, I just think your judgement when it comes to use of force can be… off." He frowned. "With that said, I get the feeling these guys aren't going to play nice."

"So…?"

"You'll get no argument from me, as long as what you decide doesn't put me in any more danger."

Hmm…

I nodded and began for the market; with the large area clear of rubble in the parking lot outside that entrance, it would probably be where they landed.

The main square was completely packed when we arrived, crowded with a mix of regular citizens and what had to be a few hundred guards dressed in their odd collection of sportswear and armor. Most of them were desperately searching the skies, looking for the source of the noise. I couldn't tell if any of them knew what was causing it or who was coming, but the guards were clearly agitated, trying to filter their way through the crowd toward several different entrances.

We skirted the edge of the market, staying as far clear of the densely packed crowd as possible. At first no one paid us any mind, but as we walked, several people in the throng began turning their attention to me.

It wasn't long before I felt the collective gaze of a significant portion of the crowd. What if the guards tried to stop me? I had no intention of fighting the people here, but if they attempted to detain me, or Nate, what choice would I have? What if the Brotherhood got involved? How would they react to the town interfering in what they felt was their business? If they were anything like the UNSC, it would involve a lot of shooting.

We had barely made it halfway to the exit on the other side of the market when a group of guards extricated themselves from the crowd and blocked our path.

The four of them stepped forward, trying to crowd Nate and I. The size difference made that difficult. Not only that, but it put them well within arm's reach, which was never a good place to be if you're fighting a SPARTAN.

The one in the center looked me up and down a few times. "You two have any idea what's going on here?"

I glanced down at Nate to see him already looking at me. I nodded.

"That's the Brotherhood of Steel. They're probably here to talk with us, which is why we're trying to leave."

"Why do you think they're here to talk to you?"

"We've had a run in with them in the past."

Just let us leave.

"Are you with them?"

I saw the ex-soldier shake his head out of my periphery. "No. Look, we're trying to leave to keep you and your people from getting involved."

"And if you're spies?"

"Uh… if the Brotherhood have stockpiles of prewar tech and a large standing army, I doubt they would send a two man team, one of which sticks out as much as possible, to recon the city."

The guard squinted at me from behind his mask.

"And you're sure they're here for you?"

Nate shrugged. "I mean probably, but I wouldn't be surprised if they came to establish relations with the largest city in the area either."

"Rick", said the guard on the far right, "we should take 'em just in case."

I stiffened, limbs ready to lash out at the men in front of me.

Nate shot me an alarmed glance. "No- hey, you really don't want to do that. We're just trying to leave so if the Brotherhood are here for us, no one else gets involved."

The leader, Rick apparently, was studying me intently. "I don't know how the Brotherhood operates, but what he's saying makes sense. This guy sticks out like a Deathclaw at church. If he is Brotherhood, I've heard stories about that power armor and I don't want any part of it."

Uncomfortable shifts from the two men who hadn't spoken yet said they were thinking the same thing.

The other guard rolled his eyes. "Don't be a pussy, if we let these guys push us around, they'll walk in here and take everything."

This guy is going to cause them a lot of problems.

"If you want to cuff him, be my guest, you aren't getting the rest of us involved in that mess."

The dissident stepped forward with a whispered 'chicken shit', and reached for something behind his back.

Hurting or killing this guy would only make things worse. It wouldn't be difficult to subdue him, but how would the other guards react? The leader had said they weren't getting involved, but would they follow through with that? If I had to overpower the four of them, how long until other guards came to assist and things escalated?

And why am I struggling with this now of all times? Was I really that shaken up? This is a direct action situation, and yet I was standing here thinking instead of acting.

Before he could get any closer, Nate stepped between the guard and I. "Stop. I'm trying to save you a lot of trouble. Don't. We're leaving." His voice was equal parts commanding and nervous.

The two men stared each other down for a moment, the guard's right hand still behind his back. They were so close to me, Nate's head was practically resting on my chest plate. Under any other circumstances, if the other man had been approaching me like this, I would have already neutralized him. Now, having to think about the repercussions of something like this beyond the immediate threat, and my apparent mental block, the guard was well within my kill radius and still breathing.

My legs began to wind tight. The last thing I needed now was for Nate to get injured or killed because of this guy.

"Slow down." The first guard stepped forward and grabbed his subordinate's shoulder. "We don't need any more problems, and these guys clearly don't either." He looked at me. "Until we know what's going on, we can't have you running around here. We'll escort you out."

He pulled the approaching guard back and turned to lead us toward the market's gate.

As we walked through the crowd, the VTOLs became visible over the edge of the stadium, approaching from the southeast. The Vertibirds' rotors began beating the air over the stadium hard enough to kick dirt and dust into the air. They weren't quite directly overhead, in fact it looked like they were hovering over our destination, but the air was full of grit, flying around quick enough to produce a horrible grating sound across my armor.

It was better that than my skin.

Citizens started shouting in shock and panic as dirt was kicked up and thrown around the bowl of a stadium. The crowd began scrambling like a massive, writhing animal, people panicking, covering their faces, trying to get out of the deluge. They were running in random directions, slamming into each other in the packed marketplace. I saw someone fall near the center of the distressed crowd, and then another, and another. Several people bounced off of me as we tried to push through the torrent. These people had probably never seen anything like the Vertibirds. Combine that with this many people crammed into a relatively small space…

It wasn't long before someone careened into Nate and sent him floundering to the side. A woman and her young son were knocked to the ground in front of him. He managed to regain his balance just before stumbling over them.

I glanced around for the guards that had been escorting us, but they were lost in the mess of thrashing bodies. The ex-soldier was helping the woman to her feet as another person slammed into my back. We needed to get out of the crowd; not only was there the risk of someone getting trampled, but my mind was racing to keep track of everyone floundering around and it was going to drive me insane.

With that thought in mind, I stalked to Nate and his new friends. I pulled the three of them toward the nearest edge of the writhing mob, doing my best to shield them from the encroaching, panicked bodies.

After several more collisions, one of which involved someone grabbing onto Nate for a moment before the ex-soldier managed to shove the man off, we reached the protection of a small alley set between two shops.

"What's happening", the woman screamed over the torrent of noise.

Nate put his hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, those are just Vertibirds, their propellers tend to kick up a lot of dirt."

"Those are what?" Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear, her son was clinging to her with all his might.

"They fly around with soldiers and supplies. Just stay here until they're gone, you'll be okay." The ex-soldier turned to me.

"Stay close."

He nodded and I turned to wade back into the crowd. I felt a tug on the back of my armor and glanced behind me; Nate had grabbed onto my back.

I started forward and hugged the storefronts, keeping away from the mass of people the best I could. Less than a minute ticked off of my clock, but it felt like an hour filtering through the constant impacts, and panicking citizens. My mind was well past overdrive trying to process everything as I pushed toward the exit.

Once we were in the tunnel, Nate let go of my armor and began spitting. "Goddamn. That felt like dustoff from a desert."

I shrugged, he had more experience eating dirt than I did; I'd never ridden in a prop-powered aircraft. "Let's go."

The ex-soldier grimaced. "Lead the way." He coughed and spat again.

The tunnel led us back through the checkpoint we'd passed when first arriving, back through the front passage, and out the large, armored door. As expected, there was a Vertibird settling into the parking lot, it's rotors still kicking up dust and debris from the littered ground.

No sooner than it's wheels touched the cracked concrete, two soldiers in this world's version of power armor thunked to the ground. Two more VTOL's were still hovering overhead, each armed with twin high caliber rotary machine guns, both trained on the front of the stadium.

The two armored soldiers noticed me as soon as we exited the tunnel and brought their laser rifles to bear. I checked my arms as they tried to scramble for my own weapon; fighting those Vertibirds wasn't something I wanted to attempt unless absolutely necessary. The chainguns they were carrying looked like they were at least 7.62mm, probably larger. With as little cover as I had here, it wasn't a promising prospect.

"Stop there", one of the Brotherhood soldiers shouted over the pounding of rotors. I came to a halt at the edge of the parking lot, Nate just behind me. I couldn't tell if he was using me as a shield from the weapons, or the prop wash.

A third man, this one in the same armor sans helmet dropped to the ground and the group began toward us. Why would he have his helmet off? Remove protection from your head? People here make no sense. This new soldier was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with light skin, a closely shaven head, and a face that made it look like he was angry at everything around him.

The group stopped a half dozen meters away, their leader's eyes running over me before locking onto my visor.

"I am Paladin Marsaul", he yelled in an appropriately irritated voice. "We would like you surrender your weapons and come with us."

Detaining me was already a stretch, taking my firearms was out of the question. "I'm keeping my guns."

"My orders are to bring you in peacefully, but I will not endanger my men to do so."

I glanced to the side as Nate edged around me, squinting at the Brotherhood men through the buffeting air. "And we don't know you, so you'll excuse us if we want to keep our weapons."

"You aren't in a position to make any decisions on the matter."

Coercion. So these guys weren't only a cult, but they liked to throw their weight around; they flew into new territory, announced themselves as if they were its new rulers, and then show up on the doorstep of the largest town in the area as a show of force.

Another one of Fourier's stupid idioms scrolled through my head. "If you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail."

I've dealt with Innies that did this sort of thing, but those were different. This was borderline Covenant tactics, the only thing missing was the hellfire. Militarily, there wasn't anyone in the area that could stand up to these people (except for potentially the Institute, but they weren't in play yet) and ideologically, they seemed to believe they had the right to do whatever they wanted. There's a lot you can learn from first encounters, and the Brotherhood wasn't making a positive impression.

They wanted to throw their weight around, it wasn't something I did often, but I can improvise.

"We-" I cut Nate off with a wave.

"You're here because you don't know who we are; all you know is I could have wiped out what was left of your outpost at Cambridge. I'll say this once: my cooperation is conditional."

I caught the ex-soldier staring at me wide eyed out of my periphery.

"Are you threatening us?" The Paladin's voice was sharp and tight.

"If you're unwilling to be cooperative."

"You're playing a dangerous game."

I shrugged, doing my best to project nonchalance, but I could already feel the adrenaline seeping into my blood. I'd seen this tactic before, but I've never tried it; announcing potentially hostile intentions felt wrong. My hands were ready for action, legs yearning to be put to work, but starting a war with the Brotherhood would only make life more difficult. And Nate would almost certainly die in a fight like this.

The Paladin stared me down for a moment that seemed to stretch on into eternity. My eyes darted from him, to the Vertibird behind him, to the other two hovering overhead. Their weapons weren't trained on us, but the stadium; it would take several seconds for them to adjust their aim. By then I would have dealt with Marusaul, and the pilot for the waiting aircraft, but the other two men who had their helmets on would be more difficult. The sniper rifle on my back could punch through their helmets, or if I was quick enough, the assault rifle might get through their lenses. If I was going to keep Nate alive, I doubt there would be time to switch to the larger weapon; I'd have to fire and move immediately.

"You can keep your weapons."

The words brought my racing mind to a screeching halt.

"You may keep your weapons", the Paladin repeated, irritation tinging the edges of his voice", but if you do anything suspicious, you will be engaged without hesitation."

Likewise.

I nodded as the tension drained from my limbs.

The Paladin turned away from us and lumbered back to the waiting VTOL. That spoke louder than anything they'd done thus far: this guy felt comfortable enough to turn his back on an unknown entity he knew was extremely dangerous. They assumed their presence and force was enough to intimidate anyone, giving them carte blanche to act and do as they please.

If I do have to engage the Brotherhood, their collective ego was going to cause them massive problems.

We followed Marsaul to the waiting Vertibird, the armor soldiers flanking us. My mind was screaming to stop, turn around, and leave. I was about to embark on a potentially hostile militia's gunship to be taken, most likely, to their base of operation. There were too many unknowns, too many chances for things to go sideways.

Part of me though… part of me was excited. These guys probably wouldn't help, but I was eager to see what this world's version of a powerful, organized fighting force had to offer. What would they be like? What kind of numbers could they deploy? What kind of technology had this militia managed to stockpile?

I climbed into the passenger compartment after the Paladin, followed by Nate and the two guards.

As the rotors began beating the air faster and faster, and the wheels lifted off the parking lot's pockmarked concrete, another thought occurred to me. This might just be a ploy to bring us somewhere they have more forces and better security to detain me. They had no way of knowing whether I was a member of the community here or not, so it would make sense to separate me from the regular populus.

If that is the case, it was possible these people were more tactful than I was giving them credit for.

But that remains to be seen. They are bringing me to their base of operation. Granted, the Brotherhood didn't know who or what they were exposing themselves to, but I wouldn't feel bad about using that against them. This gamble goes both ways.

The Vertibird rose above the crumbling skyline and turned northeast. I stepped to the edge of the compartment and grabbed a hold of the VTOL's frame as I studied the hellish landscape from the air for the first time.

The view was even more bleak from the above than it had been trudging through it; the brown, dead land seemed to extend on in every direction. Even the ocean to the east was dyed the same sickly amber. The city itself was a jumble of collapsed, burnt out buildings, and areas completely devoid of structures, most of which seemed to be centered around the southwest area of the city. The suburbs I'd walked through told the same story. Everything was destroyed.

How could this have happened to Earth.

This isn't my Earth.

Even so, this is humanity's home, how could they have let this happen to it?

I didn't have an answer. The UNSC and it's colonies had engaged in plenty of self-destructive behavior; hell I was walking evidence of that, but nothing to this extreme.

The Covenant would have been proud of whoever had pushed the button first.

I knew it would look like this, but seeing the wasteland that had been one of Earth's most populous areas in all its… glory hit differently.

Nate dropped into a jump seat across from where I was standing. I turned to see him gaping out across the tundra with the same disbelieving stare he'd worn several times now. For the first time, I wondered what it looked like through his eyes. I'd seen these plenty of times, moving from world to world, many glassed by the Covenant. This is the only world he'd ever set foot on, and now it looked like this. What did he see?

My gaze drifted back to the destroyed landscape as it raced beneath us. Did it say anything about me that I could look at this and my concern wasn't everything was destroyed, but that it was Earth that this happened to?

"Hey!" The ex-soldier's call drew my attention back to him. "You ever see anything like this?"

I glanced at the three Brotherhood soldiers behind us, watching intently. His expression morphed from something akin to forlorn to apologetic, but I still gave him a small nod.

"You know", he shouted through a wry smile, "you're very good at threatening people." I nodded again; it wasn't something I practiced. "Maybe it's how you humble bragged about being the most dangerous motherfucker around." I cocked my head at him. "'All you know is I could have wiped out your outpost', no big deal though." He laughed.

"It was the truth."

"I know, that's what makes it a good threat."

The change in the ex-soldier's attitude over the past hour was… remarkable. Maybe this was closer to who he had been before the bombs dropped; an experience like that can change anyone. I would know. It was also possible the moment things got violent again and bullets started flying, he'd revert back to trying to save the people shooting at us.

That isn't the problem for now. I glanced over my shoulder at the compartment's other occupants again. What do these people want with me? Were they trying to enlist me? Arrest me? Kill me? Or was this just a meet and greet? I doubted it; an unannounced pickup with this much firepower wasn't normal for a cordial 'hello'. Then again, they don't know who or what I am, and they clearly like flaunting their toys. They're behavior was odd too, like a well trained fighting force that had read about fighting and wars, but hadn't ever been in anything large scale, or contentious. That made sense considering they seemed to have all the weapons everyone else didn't.

Unfortunately, I could spend the next several days thinking of potential scenarios, but without information on location, numbers, and their intent, it was next to useless. I had a general profile for them, but it would take a lot more to figure out exactly what they wanted with me, and how they would affect the area with their increased presence.

Well… the UNSC's track record was probably a good template for how the Brotherhood would operate in the Commonwealth: use superior force to take what they want. Unlike the UNSC, they didn't have virtually unlimited resources (unless they've somehow set up production facilities for the technology they use), and there may be a credible adversary if their wariness of the Institute was warranted. That generally meant less direct action, more posturing and intimidation, but who knows, nothing here has operated according to logic thus far.

My attention turned back to the devastated cityscape racing by underneath us.

What have I stumbled into…

It was a 10 minute flight before the Vertibird began circling. As it did, the same massive airship I'd seen over Fort Hagen came into view. Several other VTOL's were swarming around and docking with the large command vessel making the aircraft look like a colossal beehive.

So that's where we're going.

The craft absolutely dwarfed the Vertibird. The airship was massive, easily over 100 meters long, casting a long shadow over the ruins of the airport below that was buzzing with activity. The other Vertibirds were docking at the rear of the Gondola which had a grid of stations that looked capable of supporting a dozen of the small craft.

"When we dock", Marsaul called, "you will follow me to the ship's bridge. If you are deemed a threat at any time, you will be dispatched immediately."

I turned back to the Vertibird's cabin. The way he said that made it sound like I'd give them some sort of warning before I engaged.

Well trained amateurs.

Nate nodded. "Got it."

A few moments later, the Vertibird buzzed into the docking station closest to the main Gondola and the five of us disembarked. Not including the three escorts, there were 15 Brotherhood members on the deck; at least 10 of them were flight crew, 2 others were waiting at the door that I assume led to the airship's cabin, and 3 more men dressed in power armor, waiting at the end of the gangway. Each person had a weapon in hand.

Well prepared amateurs. It was strange for the same group that had one of its higher ups willingly turn their back on me to also be so ready to receive a dangerous detainee.

I glanced at the Paladin. Maybe it was just him? Danse had certainly been more cautious.

As we began walking, Nate made it clear he didn't need any warnings about staying close; the ex-soldier might as well have been in my pocket.

Once we passed the other three armored soldiers, they fell in behind us. The six of them trudging forward in their ungainly armor making an odd cacophony of hisses and thudding. It was better than guarding me with regular, unarmored men, but these people had to know the limitations of that equipment. Even now the slow, ungainly movements were plain as day, and in close quarters like this…

They probably don't deal with anything besides what the Commonwealth has to offer.

I stowed the speculation; it would probably prove useful if I had to fight them, but I'd rather not find out with Nate anchoring me in place.

The two men guarding the cabin's entrance came to attention as we approached, but neither removed a hand from the laser rifles they were cradling.

I noticed the smaller man next to me looking around with an appraising gaze. Unlike me, he barely cast a glance at the armored men around us. It made sense: he'd served 16 years in a military that employed this version of power armor, the ex-soldier would be well acquainted with their capabilities and limitations. It also demonstrated some of the same fortitude he'd shown when he butted heads with me; no matter how cumbersome, that armor was a massive threat to him, yet he looked as calm as ever. Talking to him about his experience with it after this would be a good idea.

The Paladin pulled the bulkhead door open with a gentle squeak that just managed to reach me over the sound of a few dozen Vertibirds buzzing around the airship. Through the door was a dimly lit room with a staircase leading down to a deck below, and ladder to another above. On either side was a walkway lined with structural supports wrapping around to another compartment. A man stood at the front, facing a set of wrap around windows looking out over the city's bay.

These guys like theater as much as the Covvies did.

Watching the three armored men in front of me struggle through the too small door, awkwardly ducking to avoid the frame and half crabwalking through, was amusing… those suits were interesting. I followed them through the door and around to the connected room.

The waiting man, most likely their commander, was a little taller than Nate with close cropped brown hair, worn longer on top, and a thick brown leather jacket. As we approached the door, Marsaul signalled for us to wait just inside the opening while the guards fanned out around the room. The Paladin trudged toward the commander who, despite the unreasonably loud movements of their armor, hadn't turned to acknowledge his men yet.

You have to be kidding me with this.

"Elder Maxson", the armored man said, coming to attention, "we've brought the unknown armored man and his companion."

Elder? Despite myself, I felt a knot begin forming in my gut. This much manpower, this much technology… it was in the hands of a cult. For the UNSC, this would be a fringe Innie group they could deal with whenever they wanted. Here… it was dangerous for these people. This could end up being their version of the Covenant.

That's if they don't exist here too.

"Good." The man turned to face us. He wore a thick beard over a rough and scarred face that made it hard to tell his age. A large scar ran down its right side from his forehead to cheekbone, but easily the most striking feature was his eyes. They weren't large, or piercing, but they were an order of magnitude harder than the face they were set in, staring at me with an intensity I've only seen a few times.

"I am Arther Maxson, Elder of the East Coast Chapter Brotherhood of Steel."

His voice matched his appearance: harsh, clipped, and a little louder than necessary.

Nate stepped forward. "I'm Nate C-"

"I understand you speak for the two of you", Maxson never took his eyes off me, "but at the moment, I am more interested in him."

My mind was already planning a course of action for this heading south.

The ex-soldier glanced at me, concern beginning to crack his impassive mask.

"What do you want to know?"

"Your name would be a good start."

"Damon."

The Elder waited a heartbeat longer before realizing I wasn't saying anything more.

"Paladin Danse told me you didn't speak much." A frown cracked the granite around his mouth. "He also told me you were in pursuit of technology, even if that meant cooperating with the Institute. Care to explain that to me?"

"It's my business."

"Do you understand the kind of danger they and their 'Synths' pose to humanity? Do you realize the repercussions of allowing them to continue producing those abominations unchecked? Machines masquerading as humans, the ability to think and act on their own… they're monsters. We cannot allow their offensive creatures to continue infiltrating our world."

My eyes narrowed. I've had to listen to my share of Fundies while scouting insurrectionist outposts. They would have loved this guy.

"What do you want from me?" I was already so far out of my comfort zone I almost felt like I was watching the discussion from the sidelines; engaging with this guy's insane ramblings would only make things worse.

"I want to know who you are and what your goals are."

A little presumptuous to assume you have the right to that information.

"And if I want to keep that private?"

He looked meaningfully at the men around him. "Do you really think you're in that position."

Despite my head screaming at me, I managed to keep my hands away from my rifle. This was going sideways faster than I expected it to (mostly because I was the one who had to do the talking), but it wasn't entirely surprising.

"If you want to threaten me, don't do it face to face."

"You bested one man, there are six of them here now, not to mention the rest on the ship and the ground."

You put me in the perfect position to not need to.

"I don't need to beat them."

I could feel the Brotherhood soldiers around me tense. The ones I could see didn't have their rifles aimed yet, but they were all at the low ready. With the other two laser rifles at my back, my body screamed at me to move, but I couldn't.

We stared each other down for what seemed like an eternity, my limbs wound as tight as possible, ready to fight. These assholes gave me an opportunity to end their threat before it had a chance to begin. The only thing that kept me from putting a round through the Elder's forehead was Nate standing next to me, weak and vulnerable.

"Let's slow down a little here guys."

The ex-soldier's voice was low and calm, but it intruded on the tension so suddenly, I watched two of the guards flinch in surprise.

"I think you need to talk some sense into your protector", Maxson retorted.

"What can I say, he's pretty stubborn. But I agree with him: our business is our own." My companion trailed off before continuing. "Besides, as much as it pains me, he's very good at killing people. If you decide to open that door, I can't exactly blame him for going through."

"Is that a threat?" The Elder's face didn't change, but his voice turned cold enough to freeze air.

"Turnabout is fair play", Nate said, voice calm, but with its own edge. "Neither of us want to fight you-

Speak for yourself. These people are dangerous.

-but we aren't going to surrender either. We have our own objectives."

"And you understand why that's a concern for us?"

"Nope. We don't know anything about you or the Institute."

"Right, that's another thing Danse told me." The elder's tone shifted again. "I find it hard to believe someone in the Commonwealth doesn't know about us or the Institute." His harsh, condescending approach wasn't winning any points with me, and I doubt Nate was any different.

The ex-soldier exhaled sharply, clearly losing his patience as well. "Look Elder Maxson, we came here in a gesture of good faith. We have our own reasons to look for the Institute, none of them have anything to do with you. As long as you don't interfere, we have no intention of getting in your way."

"And I'm supposed to take your word?"

"Do you have another option?"

"You explain."

I felt the smaller man glance at me. My eyes hadn't left the Brotherhood leader. The last thing we needed was this group of fundamentalists tailing us.

"Neither of us are comfortable with that", Nate finally replied. "Like I said: we came here to smooth things over, but we aren't obligated to tell you anything."

Maxson fell quiet, allowing the sounds of whirring fans, distant shouting, and pounding feet to blanket the bridge. His eyes slowly drifted from the ex-soldier to me and back. As hard as I tried to figure out what he was thinking, I couldn't. The man had a good poker face.

That made me even more uncomfortable.

"You must be awfully confident in your prowess."

"We've both done a lot of fighting. And I wouldn't have come here if I didn't think I could leave."

I almost tore my eyes from Maxson's impassive expression to look at the smaller man.

That isn't your line.

He can't act like I'm the only one who does the fighting. And who knows, I haven't seen him in real combat yet.

He won't be useful surrounded by power armor equipped soldiers.

That's my job. If he can eliminate Maxson or Marsaul (since that dumbass is too arrogant to wear a helmet), that's enough.

"I am many things", the Elder finally replied, "but I am not a liar. Your courage is impressive, if misguided."

My companion cleared his throat. "That's an… ambiguous statement."

The ghost of a smile slipped across Maxson's face. "Good to know you have enough sense to be nervous."

"The fight that doesn't scare me is going to be my last."

"Hmm." The grizzled looking man glanced between Nate and I several times, something going on behind his impassive countenance. I could feel and hear the gentle hiss of the Brotherhood soldiers shifting around me. They were still nervous, but the tension had ratcheted down from its burning peak.

I still hadn't relaxed a millimeter. Too many unknowns and, if the need arose, I was still ready to put a round through Maxson's scarred nose.

Eventually, the Elder's gaze settled back on me. "I am also not one to waste an opportunity like this."

That didn't sound good. My hands tensed, ready to snatch my rifle.

"I understand you do not want us in your affairs, but I would still like to extend an offer." Marsaul glanced down at his commander, eyes narrowed. "Join us. Whatever you need from the Institute, we will help you get. In exchange, I want you to fight under our banner. Your skills and experience would be invaluable to our cause. It isn't common for me to meet a man who is able to subdue one of my best men."

What?

His announcement caught me by surprise. My muscles unwound as my mind raced to catch up.

He wants me to fight for him?

Every part of me rejected the idea. These people reminded me far too much of both the Covenant and Fundie Insurrectionists.

"You want-"

I felt a tug on my right arm and looked down to see Nate with a hold of my wrist, staring intently at the Elder.

"How does that work? Like I said: we have our own objectives here. And I'm not comfortable pledging my services to you when I don't know anything about the situation."

"While I wouldn't be opposed to recruiting you", the Brotherhood leader said, still looking at me, "I am more interested in Damon."

The smaller man released my arm. I met his gaze as he gave me a questioning glance. "We're a package deal at the moment." I gave him a small nod. "And I don't think he's comfortable with joining you either."

"I see." The edge had returned to the Elder's voice. "You understand why I offered you the chance. You're an unknown, and unknowns are dangerous."

On that we agree.

"So a compromise?" Nate's voice

Maxson's piercing glare drilled into my visor, like he was trying to see my face behind it.

"Unfortunately, I am unwilling to compromise on this." My body coiled once again. "But I am willing to give you some time to think over your options. If you accept my offer, you will both be afforded the status and resources of a Knight, including a set of T-60 armor and use of our requisitions officer in pursuit of your goals. In return, you will be expected to operate as a part of our advanced scouting teams. My men will take you back to Diamond City; they will return in three days to hear your answer."

With that, the Elder turned back to the bridge's viewport. It took every bit of my self control to keep my hands away from my rifle.

"Follow me", Paladin Marsaul said as he marched past us.

I glanced at the armored soldiers around us. Each of them still had their eyes locked on me as the Paladin's thumping footsteps receded from the room. This isn't right. I'm standing in the middle of what was the closest thing to a Fundie Insurrectionist base I've been in over the past three years. I have their leader standing directly in front of me with his back turned.

And I'm going to just walk out?

Situation has changed. Killing Maxson won't solve this problem, if anything it will make things worse.

How? I remove the head from this, and they fall apart. They're a cult.

They're militant. Even if the next in line isn't as strong as Maxson, they'll have chain of command. And even if they crumble eventually, this isn't UNSC space. I can't remove Maxson and leave them to die. Without a unifying leader to focus their efforts, they'll lash out at everything and that will cause problems.

This may be my only chance.

Really? My only chance? There are a thousand ways I can get to Maxson, this is just the easiest one. And Nate is here.

… Dammit.

I turned and followed Marsaul aft toward the docking area, still fuming. This isn't how I do things.

But I'm also just a weapon. Broader strategies aren't my thing.

By the time we returned to Diamond City, the sun was falling behind the western horizon, casting an eerie array of dancing shadows across the destroyed cityscape as we flew over it. The inside of Valentine's shack felt even smaller than normal. My body was still coiled, ready to fight; it was still expecting something to go sideways, a need to release tension. I stood in the center of the room while Nate sat roughly in one of the chairs, clenching and unclenching my hands. I was face to face with someone I not only should have killed, but I wanted to. Hell, if everything went right, I probably could have dismantled their entire command structure.

Without any plan? Without any intel? While keeping Nate alive? He wouldn't have made it out, even if I succeeded. Then what? If I'm going to bring him along, I need to operate with his limitations in mind.

"Well", the man in question said, breaking into my thoughts, "that wasn't exactly what I expected." He was leaning back, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm not sure what I was thinking, but it wasn't that."

"It isn't a surprise." It wasn't. In fact, it was to be expected. If their goal is to destroy the Institute (which is what it sounds like), they would want to remove any external variables first. I'm a wild card, so it's either recruit me or kill me. They may be cultists, but they are also organized and militant. That makes them dangerous, but it also makes them predictable.

"What do you mean", he asked, eyes still glued on the corrugated steel above us.

"Maxson said it: unknowns are dangerous."

The ex-soldier finally tore his gaze from the ceiling and looked at me. "How does us joining change that?"

"Supervision. Control."

He cocked an eyebrow. "They want to keep us under their thumb so we can't get in their way?"

I nodded. "Or kill us."

A small, if a bit sickly smile twitched across Nate's lips. "Well I meant what I said about you and killing." I didn't reply. The statement was an attempt at sarcasm, but it came out more nervous than anything.

"So", he continued eventually, "we have two days huh? Doesn't give us a whole lot of time to get in touch with the Institute. We still haven't found Virgil yet. The 'Glowing Sea' is going to be more than a day's walk away by itself and I doubt the guy is going to have an answer ready made for us. Plus, if it's really that irradiated…"

My armor wouldn't have a problem with radiation, but anything besides a high quality radiation suit wouldn't do Nate any good. I could leave him behind again, but I didn't know the area. Besides, I doubt he'd let me even if I wanted to make contact with this Institute doctor myself.

"They won't let us go again; even if we get out, we'll be on their hit list."

Nate offered a wry smile. "You think you could fight your way out next time?"

I wouldn't be fighting my way out. Next time I play for keeps; they want to risk bringing me in close contact with their leadership, I'll show them why Innies spent most of their time trying to keep me as far away as possible.

"Yes."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Awfully confident."

"They didn't impress me."

"Yeah", he replied, amused, "they sure seemed to get under your skin without doing anything."

"I know their type. They were some of my favorite groups to erase."

"Erase… you're talking about your operations?" My companion looked both curious and disturbed. "And… favorite?"

"Yes. They're dangerous." You would understand if you saw some of the shit they do. "Maxson should be dead."

"You planned on killing him?" The question was rhetorical.

"No, but I'd considered it."

"Ah, so you're irritated with yourself?" I nodded. "I guess I probably didn't help things." The smaller man's suddenly sober voice told me he knew he'd been an anchor. I nodded again.

I shook my head. "If they're smart they won't give me that chance again."

Nate paused for a moment, squinting at me. "You mean Maxson won't meet you face to face?"

"Yes."

"Makes sense", he replied. "Do you think we should tell them no?"

"It's best avoided until absolutely necessary."

"So we either make a non-aggression agreement or join them."

Considering what Maxson said, I doubt they'll settle for anything less than my allegiance.

I just needed to buy a little time, long enough to get to the Institute.

I still don't know if they'll cooperate.

One problem at a time. If we don't have enough time to contact them before the Brotherhood wants an answer… our only options are to join or fight them. I don't have enough information to engage in a full blown conflict with a large militia. At least not effectively. Dismantling their operations and command structure would take time without intel. I'm not patient.

That left joining them, but that option was equally concerning. What kind of commitment would they expect?

What could they offer?

"That power armor could be worth the trouble", Nate said as if I asked the question aloud.

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

"T-60 is about as radiation proof as it gets. And it might keep me from getting killed by one of those 'Deathclaws'."

Incredulity began swirling at the back of my head. "You want us to join them to gain access to their power armor."

"It's an option."

"One I don't like; they're one step short of a death cult."

He's lucky he didn't have experience with what they could become.

The thought of accepting their offer boiled my blood. They haven't backed me into a corner, but they've presented me with two options I don't like. As much as that irritates me, walking out with Maxson still alive is a decision I haven't stopped questioning. What's more, I never thought I'd consider joining a Fundie outfit like that, even if it was short term. Like I said: those were one of the types of groups I genuinely enjoyed erasing for ONI.

But if it gets me closer to the Institute, and keeps the Brotherhood off my back until they figure the game out, I need to nut up and do it.

Why can't I just do the thing that would make me feel better for once?

"I got that, but our other option is to refuse them which means we will both have to find a way across the Glowing Sea and fight them off."

Because it would usually make life more difficult.

Maybe, but joining them might bring its own issues. What if they expect some snow of loyalty? What if they request I give them access to my armor? Try to deploy me on missions?

Those are all possibilities, but they're clearly wary of me. I might just have to play off of that.

"Joining won't be as simple as accepting their offer", I said, unable to keep all of the bitterness out of my voice.

Nate frowned. "You think they're going to want something from us?"

My eyes narrowed behind my visor. "You don't?"

"I do, but what would that be?"

That's a good question. It could be far too many things to narrow down. That's what made me so uncomfortable.

"What if they ask us to infiltrate the Institute", the smaller man asked, shrugging, "they might see us as a chance to get intel on them."

One possibility I'd considered. It came with a wide variety of implications, like regular updates, tracking devices, tails, or even an accompanying Brotherhood soldier.

At the end of the day, regardless of what they'd request, unless I wanted to eliminate them before resuming our search for the Institute (the thought crossed my mind) we were joining. That would take time I didn't want to spend. I doubt Nate would either.

"It doesn't matter", I said, "the only options are to join or wipe them out."

"You could do that", Nate asked, incredulous.

"It would take time neither of us have. Accepting their offer is the best path forward."

"Really?" I cocked my head. "I guess it still surprises me whenever you concede."

"It's the same reason I kept you along originally."

The seated man fixed me in a glare that was equal parts annoyance and surprise. "I would be offended if I didn't know how socially fucking inpet you are."

"It was the truth."

"I know… This is different though, isn't it? I mean, I'm not some lunatic playing god like Maxson."

"Sometimes you have to endure undesirable circumstances."

He frowned. "Are you still talking about me?"

"No. We will have to engage at some point, but for now we can take advantage of the holes their fundamentalism leaves."

"What do you mean?"

"If I were them, I would have killed us. Or tried. Fanatics aren't pragmatic."

"You've dealt with people like them in the past?" I nodded. "I'm guessing your interactions involved a lot less talking and a lot more shooting."

"Those ones were usually a lot quieter." Until they weren't.

The smaller man looked surprised. "You didn't ki- fight them?"

"I did, hand to hand, covert insertions. It's easier to wipe out a large group with one well placed bomb than a lot of well placed bullets."

"So… you snuck in, placed a bomb, snuck out?"

How did this turn into a history lesson?

"Once you have a suit, we get to the doctor and keep our distance from the Brotherhood. The less involved with them the better." I'd have to deal with them eventually, but having access to the Institute's resources might make that easier.

"Damn… that's the most you've talked about your mission."

I haven't already told you enough about myself?

"There is one problem though…" The ex-soldier looked sheepish.

That didn't sound promising. "Yes?"

"I was never trained in power armor."

"You-" My brain stopped and started again as it attempted to process what he'd said. He can't use power armor… that defeats the purpose of joining the Brotherhood.

Well… that complicates things.

The smaller man shifted uncomfortably. "Those were support units, I was a regular grunt."

"Do you have any idea how long it takes?"

"I think… I was told the armor was designed so practically anyone could use it, I doubt it would take very long."

I sighed. Where would we get a good radiation suit?

That still leaves too many problems; the Brotherhood would be an immediate issue, but from what Valentine said, the Glowing Sea will be full of mutated… creatures. Nate would be a massive liability without some help. That armor is limited, but it's tough.

So temporarily joining the Brotherhood is probably still the best path forward, or at least it removes the largest number of obstacles we have right now.

"The Brotherhood will still be our best bet."

"Yeah, I know." The smaller man sighed. "Okay, well… we have three days to kill before the Brotherhood comes back for us."

It would be the first time I didn't have anything to occupy me since leaving Sanctuary. Scouting the city around the stadium seemed like a good idea, but I wasn't bringing Nate along for that and leaving him here alone was asking for the guy to get himself killed.

That left standing around with my thumb up my ass (I think I'd rather fight a Mgalekgolo hand to hand), finding some place to resupply, or going somewhere I would be able to tolerate the ex-soldier. Resupplying probably wouldn't take three days, though it might take that long to convince one of these vendors to sell to us.

Goodneighbor? If they worked with Valentine before he came here, they may not be as fearful of synths. I might be able to resupply there… and it sounds more interesting than Diamond City.

"Are there vendors in Goodneighbor?"

The smaller man squinted at me. "Yes… do you want to buy something?"

"Ammunition."

"We could probably get some here- if the vendor doesn't think we're Synths… I see where you're going." He frowned. "If you didn't stand out so damn much we might be able to get the people here to sell to us." I didn't respond. "Fine, it isn't that far away." The ex-soldier yawned. "But… I think I need some sleep after the day's excitement."

Notes:

OH NOOOOOOOO! No fighting again?! And the perfect opportunity to kick some Brotherhood ass wasted? Yeah, Damon clearly agrees, but there's a method (and logic) to the madness, as I hope I got across, our SPARTAN friend understands. The thing about this for me is Damon isn't stupid. In fact he's (clearly) incredibly intelligent. What makes this uncomfortable for him is, as he states, he's a weapon. He's used to being pointed at something and only worrying about how he is supposed to destroy it. Despite his aggressiveness, he understands the concept of cause and effect, and he understands the consequences of his actions. Now they're just in a different context (UNSC space is A LOT bigger than the Commonwealth).

Chapter 11: The Good Neighbors

Notes:

Helloooo and welcome to another episode of Who Needs a Premise that Makes Sense! As I read back through the other chapters I've posted here, I'm realizing I've been making some mistakes I intend to go back and fix throughout the next few weeks. That being said, if there's anything you find glaring, let me know. Until then, sit back, relax, and enjoy another part of our riveting adventure! As always, make sure to leave reviews, even if they're mean (within reason), I love reading your feedback.

As the sun peaked above the ruined corpse of the city's skyline, I was walking northeast alongside the ex-soldier down a relatively clean road from the stadium. If these were two major towns close by, having a clean and secure path between them would make sense. We came across several squads of guards stationed along the road and I could feel eyes at my back, probably snipers up in the crumbling towers surrounding us. Most of the deployed men watched me suspiciously, but none moved to stop us. Despite the 'security', my eyes still darted from shadow to shadow, looking for potential threats and ambushes; these men patrolled this route every day, but that didn't mean I trusted them.

As we travelled toward Goodneighbor, I noticed most of the branching streets and alleys were blockaded with fencing or piles of rubble. The buildings were either boarded up or guards had taken positions in them. Just like the security at Diamond City, the defenses seemed thorough, probably a function of them failing. Even still, my mind continued on overdrive.

They may not be as helpless against the Brotherhood as I thought; they have numbers and well established fortifications.

I don't know how many fighters the Brotherhood has, and they have technological and air superiority.

Nate remained quiet during the journey. His eyes roamed over the surrounding ruin, but it wasn't with the same intent I had. Generally, when he was quiet for this long, it meant he was thinking about something, was it the city? His son? Me? It still surprises me he was as upset as he was hearing about what happened to me. The ex-soldier hadn't pitied me, he seemed angrier than anything else, but why? I could understand him being concerned for his son, but he wasn't responsible for me. Hell we'd only known each other for just over a week by this point.

And yet, I've talked to him more about my past than anyone else.

Amanda would have been proud.

A small smile snuck onto my face. The IV had spent countless, unbearable hours pestering me, trying to get me to 'open up'. Now that I think about it, her strategy wasn't much different from Ellie's. She hadn't asked many direct questions, she just… talked. I learned a lot about her but, at the time, I still had those memories locked away. Maybe her efforts weren't in vain, I ended up talking about it after all.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes when the guards changed from the uniformly dressed, pseudo sports attire to something closer to the Raiders I'd seen. The armor was more consistent, higher quality, and all black, but it still didn't look like it would stop much. They eyed me with the same suspicion as the Diamond City men, but as with the other guards, they let us pass unmolested. We must have crossed into Goodneighbor's territory.

"These guys are a bit more… aggressive than Diamond City's guards. They're probably going to stop and question us at their front gate. Please don't do anything crazy."

I glanced down at the ex-soldier who was looking at me pleadingly.

He and Valentine got in and out in one piece before.

I wasn't there last time; if these people see me as a threat, they might do something stupid.

I can wait until they do before I retaliate.

Why am I making compromises now? This is how people get killed.

If things start going sideways, I can go back to shoot first, ask questions never.

"Understood."

"Thanks."

As we neared said front gate, several guards exited their posts and flanked us, each with their eyes locked firmly on me. It took a not insignificant amount of willpower to keep my hands away from my rifle.

The gate itself was a 5 meter tall steel door set into an equally tall concrete barrier that stood in front of a collection of taller buildings. I spotted snipers in several of the towers with commanding views of the area around the entrance. Beyond that wasn't visible, but the racket behind the wall was similar to the market in Diamond City.

Three men were waiting at the gate, each wearing something that looked like genuine combat armor. All three had assault rifles similar to mine aimed vaguely in my direction.

"Back so soon", one of them called. "Where's Valentine?"

Nate waved casually. "Left him back at the City, this guy wanted to see what Goodneighbor is all about."

The guard who spoke looked me up and down. "You don't say. So who are you?"

"He's a friend of mine from up north, we met a while back and he helped me get into town."

"Plan on causing any trouble?"

"No, just here to take a look, maybe resupply. The vendors over in Diamond City think we're synths or some shit. Plus you guys probably have better ammo."

His new friend laughed. "Damn straight we do. If you go to Kleo, all of it is hand loaded and I think she even got a shipment of AP bullets. She packs them hot too."

Armor piercing, hand loaded munitions… If whoever this Kleo is had experience, that sounded promising, especially if I was going to be fighting the Brotherhood; it wouldn't punch through their power armor, but considering whatever armor Haylen, the scribe at Cambridge, wore stopped the full metal jacket I had now, it would certainly help.

"I like the sound of that. Where is she set up?"

"If you walk straight back from the door here, her shop is on the bottom floor of the building in the center of town. It's the tallest one here."

"Got it, I think we'll swing by and see what she has for us."

"Alright then, same warning applies to your oversized friend here: start anything, you won't live to see the end of it."

"What if someone else starts something?" I caught him glancing at me. "And we end it?"

"Don't make a mess."

"Fair enough."

With that, the guards stepped aside and the one who had spoken with Nate pulled a smaller door in the gate open and waved us through.

Goodneighbor felt different the moment I ducked through the door. Inside the barrier was a mixture of makeshift structures built similarly to those in Diamond City and facilities set up in the husks of the towers themselves. A few dozen people were milling around in the shadow of those buildings, nothing like the crowd at the stadium, but it looked like there was a lot more to the settlement. Each of the citizens in the area cast wary glances at me, but they weren't the same gawking stares as the people in Diamond City. These were appraisals.

The atmosphere here was so thick, even I noticed; the looming husks of what used to be downtown Boston felt like they were pressing down on my head. There was very little chatter here, and everyone gave each passerby a glare that lasted just a few beats too long to be normal. I caught unnatural bulges in a waistband, the glint of a handgun under someone's jacket, high topped boots thick enough to conceal any number of compact weapons. And those were just the ones trying to hide it. It seemed like every person here had some form of firearm on them. Nate looked a little less out of place with an assault rifle dangling in front of him. Me… well I don't think it's possible for me to look like I belong anywhere.

It was easy to see why Valentine didn't want me along last time: these people all seemed on edge, my presence would only exacerbate that. Considering they're all carrying, I'm probably more of a beacon than a deterrent.

"Yeah it's a bit… different, huh?" The ex-soldier must have noticed me looking around as we made our way into the town.

I nodded.

"Valentine and I didn't have much trouble on our way through."

That was with him, not me.

"Right."

Alarms were going off in my head as we walked toward the prescribed building in the center of town. I could feel eyes on me from everywhere, and, unlike in Diamond City, I knew these ones had hostility written all over them.

Coming here was a bad idea.

It's a little late now.

Just as the alarms reached a shrill pitch, several figures detached themselves from the inside of a half collapsed tower to my left. I reached toward my rifle as they neared. They all wore thick leather or canvas jackets, and what appeared to be extremely worn BDU bottoms with combat boots.

Fire.

I don't know what they want.

I'm no expert in reading body language, but their postures, and their approach reek of hostility. So shoot.

And then things go sideways for sure.

This isn't how I do things.

Does any of this seem normal?

No, that's the problem.

I just grabbed hold of my rifle's pistol grip when Nate came to a stop and I followed suit. The four men did as well, a half dozen meters in front of us, each of them with at least one of their hands on a weapon.

"Don't look like your free ticket is here this time", the one in the center said.

"Hey guys." Nate's voice was guarded, but not quite aggressive yet. "This probably isn't the best time to pick a fight; we're just here to see Kleo."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Supplies."

"No dipshit, why isn't this a good time to pick a fight?"

"Are- are you serious?" The ex-soldier cast a pointed glance at me. "Not only do I still have better weapons, but this guy isn't a fan of leaving his… uh… enemies alive."

"You don't need to be worrying about what guns we got."

Sniper. My gaze turned to the buildings around us. There were far too many positions to clear.

Fucking shoot.

If I do that now, and there is a sniper that isn't focused on me, Nate's dead.

If I don't he's dead anyways.

Then it won't matter if I let him try to get out of this.

Nate's eyes flew around our surroundings, but he must have come to the same conclusion as me. His focus switched back to the group in front of us.

"All it looks like is some peashooters to me."

The leader began pulling his firearm. Before it could clear his jacket, my rifle was up, safety off, sights trained on his head. My finger was resting on the trigger, taking up the slack, just about to hit it's break.

"Jamison!" The voice was accompanied by the footsteps of a large group approaching from the opposite direction, but I didn't take my eyes off the man who had his hand halfway out of his jacket, handgun clearly visible now.

"The hell are you doing? Hancock told you to cool it. This guy was here with Valentine too and you're going to go after him now? You want the boss to bury you and your boys?"

I could take care of that for you if you leave us alone for a few seconds.

The man glared at me for a moment before slowly sliding his pistol back into its holster. "Oh so I'm supposed to go along with whatever the fuck that prick wants?"

"If you want to keep living here." The group came to a stop next to the men in front of us. They were wearing armor that probably meant they were guards as well. The dozen of them each cradled a rifle at low ready, half aimed roughly at me, and the rest at the others.

The man still in my gunsight spat at the ground in front of Nate. "Hancock is getting on my goddamn nerves."

"Sounds like your problem."

"Oh yeah? How bout I make it yours too?"

The guard stepped forward and shoved his face into the other man's. "Try."

What the hell is going on here?

For several silent moments, the two men stared each other down. I hated posturing.

I think there's a difference between being a police force and what I do.

This guy is clearly a problem.

It probably isn't just about him; what would other people see if they executed him?

That thinking is what gets people killed.

Different situation.

Whatever.

"Keep that tough guy act up, it's gonna get you killed soon enough", the guard said eventually, sounding more annoyed than anything. "Now get the fuck outta here."

The other man sneered. "Watch yourself."

With that, the small group turned back to the tower they'd come from and stalked away. I kept my sights trained on them until they disappeared from view.

"Don't feel too bad, asshole does that to most newcomers." I lowered my rifle and turned back to the guard. He and the rest of his men had their weapons down and were studying Nate and I with a calculating air, like they were figuring out the best way to fight us if we started shooting. "Where are you two heading?"

Nate seemed to shake himself out of whatever he was thinking. "We're here for some supplies."

"Long as you keep your head down, you should be fine."

As if he wanted to be anywhere but there, the guard promptly turned and headed back in the direction he came, followed by his men. "That shit is becoming too common."

I shifted my gaze from the departing guards to the ex-soldier. "They knew you."

He nodded. "Those asshats did that last time… pretty sure I broke one of his guy's arms." I cocked my head at him and the smaller man smiled. "I never said I couldn't fight, I just don't do it as much as you. Before things could escalate a ghoul came over with probably double the number of guards and basically did the same thing. He talked to Nick like they were old friends, which I guess they are, so that guy probably doesn't like me much."

So not all ghouls are hostile?

"Anyway, I say we get over to the store before someone else tries to pick a fight; a lot of people were eyeing you on the way in."

"Agreed."

We resumed our walk to the prescribed building. It was a mostly intact tower that absolutely dominated the center of the town. With most of the skyscrapers crumbling around it, I could understand why they would want to set up in the high rise: it was probably the most structurally sound building in the area.

Sounds similar to Diamond City's market drifted from the front of the building. As we neared I caught glimpses of a small crowd through the haphazard barricades thrown up in front of the windows that had been blown out.

This is their version of a marketplace. With how tall this tower is, they could fit a lot of vendors in here… this building has to have different purposes.

The pair of guards stationed in front of a large door leading to the building's interior watched us carefully as we approached. Nate gave them a nod as we entered.

Inside was exactly what I expected, which is to say what has become my least favorite place to be. There were 50 or 60 people milling around a cramped space that at one point had probably been an upscale lobby. Not as many as in the stadium, but this area was much smaller.

I scanned the too cramped interior, but oddly enough, none of its occupants took the time to look at me. They all seemed too busy going about their business. That did nothing to temper my unease; this was just as crowded as the market in Diamond City, but these people are clearly more inclined to use violence.

"Kill or be Killed. Guns, Guns, Guns", Nate mumbled just loud enough for me to pick it up over the din of activity. "That's subtle." I followed his gaze to bright yellow signage set over a storefront on the opposite side of the lobby.

"That's probably where we're supposed to be going." I nodded. "Well… I'm guessing you'd rather skirt the edge of the crowd than cut straight through." I nodded again. "Okay", he motioned to his right, along the wall, "giant armored killing machines before beauty." The smile he wore wasn't quite genuine. There was a discomfort that had replaced his fear and anger.

I slipped past him and began making my way around the edge of the large, almost cavernous room. As with the city's market, someone would occasionally bounce off of me, but unlike there, whoever it was shot me an irritated glance before continuing on. These people were certainly different. After a minute and a half of pushing my way around the crowd, we finally arrived at the vendor.

But the… person(?) standing behind the counter wasn't really a person… or I didn't think it was. The patron ahead of me was talking with a bipedal robot. Whatever it was had a single, bright red eye set in the center of a segmented faceplate, OD painted body with three pronged pincers in the place of hands.

What the hell is going on here?

"An Assaultron?" I glanced at Nate as he drew even with me. "What the hell is an Assaultron doing here? Is it security?"

So yes, it's some sort of robot. Security? And it's called an Assaultron? Sounds like a combat unit. I guess it makes sense for an arms dealer to have one.

It wasn't long before the man in front of me slammed a close fist on the table, shout a "to hell with you tin can", and turned to stalk off.

"Hey there strangers, I haven't seen you two around here before." It took me a few heartbeats to realize it was the robot- Assaultron talking, and another few to realize it was talking to us in a strange, raspy, deep approximation of a woman's voice. "Especially not big and sexy there."

What?

I saw the ex-soldier look at me, wide eyed, out of my periphery before his gaze returned to the Assaultron.

"Uh- excuse me, are you… Kleo…?"

"New designation: K-L-E-O 'Kleo'. Fully independent business owner."

"Oh." The smaller man looked as confused as I felt. My problem wasn't that this thing seemed to have some sort of AI, it was that I couldn't tell if this was supposed to be considered unusual. Based on Nate's response it was, but he'd missed 200 years. "So do you… own this place?"

"Absolutely. Everything here is guaranteed to injure, maim, or kill at your discretion. Except me. I only kill when I want to."

"Um… okay, we're just looking for some ammunition."

"Just here to pick up ammo… that's boring." The robot sounded disappointed of all things. "You got gear like that and all you're carrying is that sad little HK33 and a hunting rifle? A big boy like you could use something with a little more… boom."

It- she felt like she was staring through me with that glowing red eye.

"I don't think we have the funds for more boom, sorry. We heard you sell good ammo, so we came by." Between the 150 caps Sturges gave me and the ones Perkins paid for our little rescue mission, we probably had around 350, but I had no clue how much that was worth.

"Oh there are always little favors you can do to work off your debt. Don't worry, I'll be sure to incinerate you nice and quick if you can't pay back. Painless."

I cocked an eye down behind my visor.

"No- no I think we're good on that front. We just need some 5.56x45 and- what does that rifle chamber?"

I glanced at the ex-soldier; he looked even more uncomfortable than he had before. I couldn't lie, I felt a spark of amusement.

"12.7x99."

"Right, 12.7x99. Oh, do you happen to have any armor piercing rounds?"

"Of course I do, baby. Steel penetrator rounds for those ones that just won't go down easy. They're a bit more expensive though."

"For both?"

"You know it."

"Okay- how much per round?"

"10 caps for the smaller ones, 30 for the real stuff." That isn't going to be enough… "Most people can't pay enough to buy that kind of stopping power."

"Yeah, I don't think we can either." Nate looked at me. "Ellie paid us about 250, didn't Sturges give you some?"

"150."

"Right… Sorry, we don't have the money for that, what about regular full metal jacket?"

The Assaultron placed its… hands on the counter and made a strange clicking sound. "You know… I feel like you'd put this ammo to better use than most of these wannabe gangsters around here big guy, so how about I offer you a deal."

Deal? This thing seemed off. I'm not sure cooperating with it would be a good idea. "Deal?"

"Yeah, a very good deal. I'd give you all the ammo you could carry and then some. Just the thought of you using it all gives this girl chills."

I glanced at Nate. He still looked just as bewildered as I felt.

"What deal?"

"I got a lead on a bunch of beautiful supplies to ramp business up: new dies, an automated loader, and more bullets, powder, primer, and casings than a girl like me could ever use. Problem is no one wants to get them for little old me."

"Wait", the ex-soldier said, "two questions: why are you proposing this to us, and how do you know this stuff exists?"

"Oh baby, you aren't the first ones I've asked, like I said, no one else will do it for me. I know this kit exists because one of my runners came across it a little while back, but it's too much for a person to carry. I have a hauler who will do it, but he's no fighter." The robot almost spat the last sentence, like it offended her.

I found myself interested; I couldn't tell if it was the opportunity to explore the city, or it was the chance to get in another fight, but she had me curious.

This isn't the 'safest path forward'.

Yeah, oh well.

"Where is this place."

"So you'll do it for little old me?"

Nate's eyes shot from the robot to me. "We're doing this?"

"I need more information."

"I don't know if I wanna let you in on my secrets until you come on board. Can't have you stealing my toys, I'd have to hunt you down and turn you into piles of ash."

What the hell is with this thing?

"I need more information or I leave."

"And leave this fantastic opportunity behind?"

"Yes."

"Well I guess that would make it the right time to tell you I don't let people who know about this keep the information."

Why does everything here have to threaten you first? All they're doing is giving someone an opportunity to prepare.

"I'll take my chances."

As I began turning from the kiosk, Nate's expression went from confused to alarmed. "Wait, hold on, I don't need to be a part of this; we already have enough people who want our heads don't you think?" He looked at the Assaultron. "We might be willing to take the job on, but it's hard to accept when we don't know where we're going and what we'll be up against."

"In this part of town? Probably Supermutants and the Gunners. Oh I'd love to snap their necks. With my pincers." It clamped its metallic claws together for emphasis. "That would make this girl real happy."

"Okay, can we at least know how far it is?"

"An hour's walk, maybe a bit more."

"So you need someone to escort the hauler there, protect them while they load up, and bring them back."

"That's right baby, nice and simple."

The ex-soldier looked back up at me. "Well it seems like it's either that, or we have someone else with our names on a list."

It isn't like I wasn't on a few dozen of those.

It isn't like I have access to ONI's resources here.

I could just destroy the thing and not worry about it.

And have everyone in the settlement after me. Am I going to kill them next?

I sighed, exasperated. Life is so much simpler when I can just get rid of a problem. "When?"

"Anytime you're ready big man."

This is getting ridiculous: first I have to drag Nate to Diamond city, then fight through a bunker to save Valentine, take a field trip to eliminate Kellogg, get picked up by the Brotherhood and have them hanging over my head, now I'm being forced to run errands for some fucking robot that thinks it's a person.

"Tell your mule we're squared away."

The robot began turning down the hall behind it. "Of course-"

Nate's eyes shot even wider. "What?!"

I waited until the Assaultron left before returning my gaze to the shocked looking smaller man, irritation tinging the edge of my vision. "I am sick of this bullshit. Killing that thing would only complicate life, so if you're afraid of it, we might as well get this over with."

Nate's expression melted back into confusion. "Sick of what?"

"Running all over the damn place. I'm not an errand boy."

A smirk flickered onto his face. "Well… to be fair you're probably the only person around who could have done them all and be annoyed instead of, you know, dead."

"I don't care."

The ex-soldier opened his mouth to say something, but it drifted closed as he grimaced. "Yeah, it definitely seems like there's a lot of 'run here do this'." He offered a small smile. "But hey, at least we're getting closer. We had to wait until the Brotherhood came back anyway."

"I'm not patient."

Nate chuckled. "I got that."

"This isn't something we need to do; I can find ammo and weapons somewhere else."

"I know, but I'd rather not be on an Assaultron's hit list."

He was extremely wary of the thing. It was odd considering how he'd acted around me and the Brotherhood. "How dangerous are they?"

"Oh, they can be pretty bad. That red light on its face isn't its eye, it's a massive laser cannon. They're about as strong and tough as a suit of T-60 power armor. I only saw a few in combat, but I know they're pretty quick too."

If that's all I have to worry about… "Why are you this nervous?"

The smaller man squinted at me. "Should I not be nervous around a literal killing machine? Present company notwithstanding. That one's… different. They all have artificial intelligence, but not like that. It seems unstable."

That's something I could understand, unstable meant unpredictable, and unpredictable things are never safe.

"Then there's always the possibility it tries to kill us afterward anyways." Nate shrugged. "I mean, it clearly doesn't want anyone else knowing about this place. But you're right, killing it would be a problem with the people here." He grew silent for a moment, clearly thinking about this new ridiculous situation. "What if-"

The leadened footsteps began approaching from the back of the Kiosk and the ex-soldier fell silent again as the Assaultron emerged into the storefront.

"My hauler's name is Gerald, he's going to meet you at the front gate in 15 minutes. You're looking for a small factory three miles east called 'Jericho'. It's out of the way and easy to miss, but my scout made it easy on you by propping up a large flag in the entrance."

"Do you have any more specifics on the place", Nate asked, "like a street we should be looking for?"

"My man said it was by a big pre-war food packing plant."

The ex-soldier squinted. "I'm pretty sure I know where that is."

"Good, I'd hate to send you two out just to have you come back empty handed."

Right- that's the concern. This just keeps getting better: not only am I being forced to do this, but we don't even know where this goddamn place is.

The robot reached below the counter and it's pincer re-emerged with three small boxes. "Here's a sample for you big guy, just to show you what you're getting." It set the boxes of, presumably, ammo on the table.

I looked from the Assaultron's laser cannon, apparently, down to the packages. There was no reason not to take them, but this thing is backing me into another corner. If it were regular circumstances, I'd leave or, if it was determined to be a problem, eliminate it. Yeah, the locals would be pissed, but that's their problem, not mine. But these aren't normal circumstances, I can't just leave, and then there's Nate.

All of it really pisses me off.

With a grunt, I snatched the ammo from the counter and turned to leave. Staying there any longer than I had to was only going to make my mood worse.

Well, bringing Nate with me is the right thing to do; if this is a part of that so be it.

Uhuh, that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed.

Making my way back around the small throng of people filling the lobby turned marketplace, I took a deep breath once we were back outside.

"So… you good?"

The ex-soldier was standing beside me, looking up to meet my glare with a mixture of concern and amusement.

That isn't helping.

"Fine."

"Sure didn't seem like it." I didn't say anything in response; he already knew why I was irritated.

After a few seconds of silence he shrugged. "I know, you don't like being backed into a corner. I just think we should limit the number of people trying to kill us. If it- she tries to do it afterward, we can deal with it then."

I almost hoped that would happen. Maybe it was residual anger from the memories that were still crowding the front of my head, maybe it was the situation with the Brotherhood, maybe it was my predicament in general. Whatever the case was, I needed to break something. With my hands.

Maybe this little foray would give me that opportunity.

"You want to grab something to eat? We have a few minutes."

I wasn't hungry, but I did need to recharge a few mags.

"Sure."

10 minutes later, Nate had eaten a bowl full of something that roughly resembled beef and noodles, I had two magazines full of 'Kleo's' AP rounds, and we were heading toward the front of the town again. There were more people near the settlement's entrance which did nothing to relieve the tension building in my chest. Where the hell were those guys from before? Not knowing if they or someone else in the crowd was going to do something stupid was infuriating. It wasn't anything new, but the added irritation of this ridiculous errand made it almost unbearable.

Nate was probably right too: once this was done, I wouldn't be surprised if that Assaultron tried to kill us.

I exhaled through my nose. This is stupid. Why am I leaving that thing alive?

Leaving is still an option.

Yeah, one that doesn't solve the problem.

Suspicious gazes kept drilling into me from all directions and it took every bit of my self control to stay calm. The ex-soldier seemed aware of my discomfort if the subtle glances around us were anything to judge by. The distance he'd kept between himself and me while walking through Diamond City was still there, but the smaller man wasn't paying it much attention. He seemed to be more concerned about what was making me uncomfortable than he was about me.

I noticed a man waiting by the gate as it came into view. Without armor and his only firearm a handgun tucked into his belt, he clearly wasn't a guard. He could have been another resident, but when he saw us and began approaching, it probably meant he was either Kleo's man, or someone about to make a very bad decision.

"Are you Kleo's guys?" The large, plump man had an oddly nasally voice. His eyes were constantly shifting, starting on me, moving to Nate, then something over my left shoulder, and so on. It was subtle, but reading people for signs of aggression was one thing I had ample experience with.

"That's us", Nate replied.

The hauler nodded stiffly. "Good, my Brahmin is waiting outside. I'd like to get moving so we can get back before night. Being outside when it's dark is a bad idea." He turned and lumbered toward the small opening in the gate.

This guy was off. In the same way the Assaultron made Nate uncomfortable, our charge was setting off alarm bells: he was too twitchy, too nervous. He wasn't going to backstab us, he looked like he might jump at his own shadow, but something was already off and we hadn't even started yet.

Outside of the town was… something- some sort of animal. It looked like cattle I'd seen on plenty of colonies over the years, but this thing had two heads.

"Uh… wh-" Nate bit the question off before he got any further. So whatever that thing is, he was just as confused as I was, but asking about it would only make this guy suspicious. For the purposes of this little 'operation', it was the package. "Where is this place? Kleo gave us a general idea, but no specifics." That wasn't strictly true, the ex-soldier knew where we were going, apparently, but the Assaultron hadn't been forthcoming. It was probably his way of covering for the slip up.

"It's in the old Seaport District by a fish packing plant. Dunno if it was put there as cover or what. Weird place to be lookin for gun parts if you ask me."

"Do you know how to get there?"

The man nodded. He trundled over to his pack animal and retrieved a tattered paper map from one of its pouches. On it were two stars and a meandering line drawn in red marker. Most likely Goodneighbor, the objective, and a mapped route.

This is it?

Nate's grimace said he seemed to share my misgivings. "Is this all the information you have?"

"No. No, the scouts told me there would be some trouble along the way. It's why we've been waiting for an escort."

"Trouble?" The ex-soldier couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "Any idea what that trouble might be?"

"Dunno, they didn't say, but only two of 'em made it back."

"Out of…?"

"Five."

For- this 'mission' is fucked and we haven't left town. What kind of amateurs don't do a threat analysis?

The ex-soldier frowned. "Can we talk with them before we leave? It would be easier if we knew what we were dealing with."

"Can-" The plump man shook his head. "They're out looking for more supplies."

Nate looked at me, the same frustration I felt playing out across his face. "The alternative might be safer."

No shit. "I offered."

He sighed, turning back to the hauler. "Hey friend, we aren't too comfortable with this, we're going to talk to Kleo and see if we can get in touch with those scouts."

The other man's eyes shot wide. "No! Wait! Please don't!" He grabbed Nate's shoulder. "Look- I don't want any trouble, I'm already in hot water with her- if I can't do this… I don't want to think about what will happen to me."

"If she wants this to happen, we need better information."

"That crazy thing won't give you any, she just wants whatever she asks to get done. She doesn't care if people die to do it, hell- I mean- I've watched her kill people herself."

That explains a lot. And this guy isn't nervous about us, he's scared of Kleo.

The ex-soldier extricated himself from the hauler's grasp. "What? She's… oh. Oh." An odd smirk slowly formed as he thought. "She sounds like a mob boss."

"Well, see, there was this guy named Skinny Malone who used to run a pretty big gang here. She ran him outta town a while ago."

"Yeah… we had a- run in with him a few days ago." He glanced up at me. "I think we may want to play along then."

Play along? Under these circumstances, cutting ties and, if need be, eliminating the problem sounds like a much better solution.

"Why?"

"Because at this point, it sounds like if we do anything else, we'll have her, the town, or both after us."

"As opposed to whatever is between us and this factory."

The ex-soldier nodded. "I get 'better the devil you know', but that may not be the case here."

"We shouldn't be involved with this at all." I shook my head. "I don't care about a gun smuggling gang."

"Yes", Nate replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "well not all of us have the luxury of ignoring casual threats on our lives."

Stop talking about it and just get this over with.

"Fine."

I trudged away from Goodneighbor's front gate toward the map's path.

"Wait, what?" The hauler's nervous, high pitched voice was starting to grate on my nerves the same way the rest of this situation was.

"Come on", came Nate's reply, "we'll get you there." The two men began walking after me followed by whatever that ridiculous looking pack animal was.

"Are you sure about that?"

"... Yeah."

x

After a half hour of plodding through the crumbling husk of Boston, I understood the constant detours our 'employer's' scouts had marked in the path. The city's collapsed skyline and massive piles of rubble combined with the pack animal's limited pace and dexterity confined us to the route drawn on our charge's map. At least the scouts had drawn it with that in mind… only thing done right about this damn venture.

That itself was another problem: anyone looking to ambush a caravan heading for the port area would know that and be set up along the trail. Aside from a few feral ghouls, nothing had threatened us. So far. Even so, I was a few dozen meters out in front of the other two, Nate staying with the hauler to provide whatever protection he could. I cleared as much of the surrounding cityscape as possible, but with the number of places Raiders, Gunners, or any other group could be hiding, all it took was a little trigger discipline and the other two would be dead.

Hopefully those two high risk locations were full of Supermutants; they at least seemed stupid enough to shoot at whatever walks into their gunsights.

Wait… why am I using myself as a target?

Because I won't die. Probably.

This is stupid… I should have left, to hell with that thing.

Unfortunately, because of how slow the pack animal was, and how many positions I had to clear, we barely covered three kilometers in the half hour since we left Goodneighbor.

Now, according to the map, we had about a kilometer without any more diversions. That was good and bad. We could make decent time without having to constantly change directions, and I had good sightlines. But if anyone wanted to ambush a group of slow moving targets, they would be hiding in the crumbling buildings around us. Then my sightlines wouldn't matter.

My unease grew as we continued down what was essentially a thousand meter long kill box. I was usually on the opposite side of this; I was the one setting the ambush, I was the one waiting for sitters to enter my kill zone. That meant I knew where to look, but with the literal thousands of places I could stage an attack from, many of which were impossible to clear, it was useless. My best bet was to check the more conventional locations like rooftops or windows with commanding views and get out of death row as quickly as possible. Detours weren't an option, unfortunately. Too many unknowns.

The next question was, do I fall back to the other two? Even in the relatively short time I spent on Fourier's squad, I learned the value of tactical spacing, especially while operating in small groups. Even for SPARTANs. Not only does it prevent everyone from being killed at once, but it deters the attacks in the first place. When an enemy knows they can't eliminate their targets at once, they tend to hesitate.

On the other hand, the easiest way to protect my vulnerable charges was to stay close enough to physically do so.

Maybe I should trust Nate to handle himself.

I glanced back at the soldier, trundling alongside the hauler and his pack animal. He was even more uncomfortable if his stiff stride and constantly shifting aim was anything to go by.

I shouldn't need to; this whole situation is bullshit.

Too late to do anything about it now.

We could still leave.

Nate wouldn't do that willingly. And it would be pretty terrible to leave that guy out here with his pack animal alone.

And what happens if he and Nate get killed anyway?

After another few moments of back and forth, I decided physical protection would be more valuable here than potential prevention. If we were attacked by Raiders or Supermutants, they probably wouldn't have the forethought to be afraid of retaliation from a surviving ambushee. Hell, I haven't fought any Gunners yet, they may be just as inept.

I knelt in the shadow of a mostly collapsed building and waved the other two forward.

"What's up", Nate asked as they reached me. His voice was just as stiff as his back.

"Stay close."

"You too?"

I met the smaller man's gaze. He was nervous. Very nervous. Nervous people make mistakes, even experienced ones. "Use me for cover if need be."

My companion shot me an odd look. I wasn't fond of the idea, but he needed some form of reassurance, and if we were ambushed, I was a lot more likely to survive a gunshot than him. The ex-soldier's expression drifted back to neutral and he paused for a moment, taking several slow, deep breaths. He must have realized how jumpy he was. "Thank you."

I nodded.

After doing another scan of the countless vantage points around us, we resumed the painfully slow march down the longest funnel I've ever willingly stayed in. The eerie silence, only broken up by gravel crunching under our feet and the courier's labored breathing, did nothing to ease my apprehension.

Labored breathing? From a courier after a few klicks?

Now I thought about it, there were several things that didn't seem right about our charge. Other than the lack of fitness, which was odd for someone who made a living out of walking, anyone who survived any time in hostile environments develops certain habits. The first, and most important, is to have as much information as possible. In this case that would be pathing, obstructions, threat analysis, and a detailed plan for alternate routes. I would never set up a convoy with this little preparation. I've never planned one before, but I've spent enough time blowing convoys up to know how good ones are organized.

Not only was this guy inexperienced, but he had no exposure to combat situations.

Stop!

I froze mid-step. Something wasn't right. I swept my rifle over the buildings around us once again, brain screaming at me.

Someone was watching.

This sensation was different; it didn't just feel like I was being watched… There wasn't anything that jumped out; no markers, no carefully arranged blockade or obvious cleared debris. But it felt like the towers were closing in around me.

I held up a closed fist and Nate's footsteps came to an immediate stop, the hauler following suit a moment later with his animal.

As silence settled back over the destroyed cityscape, I strained my ears to pick up any clue. I could have turned the gain up on my helmet's speakers, but for some reason, it had trouble dampening the sound of gunshots at high volume. One would be irritating, multiple could be disorienting.

Nothing.

I waved the others toward the relative safety of the building to our right. As they began moving, I mirrored them, trying to provide at least some protection. Whoever was watching would know I was spooked. Without the element of surprise, they had to do damage before we were out of LOS, or withdrawal.

And a muzzle flash from a third story window a hundred meters ahead just preceded a round crashing into my shields.

That answers that question.

Another flash from the same spot went off and I returned fire as the round whipped over my left shoulder. I placed a trio of shots into the darkness where the offender's head should be.

More gunfire poured from the surrounding windows a split second later, at least a dozen shooters peppering the area with small caliber rounds. Their fire was inaccurate, but still concentrated. This wasn't Supermutants or Raiders. Were these Gunners?

Nate and Gerald's footsteps just reached the side of the building as I sent four more rounds down range into two different shooting perches.

Occasionally, a shot would hit me, it was maybe one out of every 20, but with the volume of gunfire pouring from that building, and now the one across from it, my shields began draining quickly. I couldn't stay here.

I sprung for the building the other two were taking cover in, just in time to see the pack animal trundling toward it take a barrage of rounds. One of it's heads was torn apart, splashing blood, fragments of skull, and what was left of its brain over its other head. In the next instant, one of its forelegs was blown off and it collapsed to the ground, remaining head keening before it too was caught by gunfire.

Something much larger boomed from further down the street and high caliber round skimmed off of my depleting shields just over my left shoulder.

I slid to a stop next to Nate who was crouched in a blown out window, rifle propped on the frame. He couldn't see down the street far enough to return fire, but at least he was ready if needed.

These guys were organized and whoever set up the ambush knew what they were doing. Suppress the targets with small arms fire and dispatch them with the heavier weaponry. It was a simple strategy that had been around for as long as war. It meant you only needed a few skilled combatants. As long as the rest knew how to pull a trigger and reload, anyone on the other end of the ambush would have a lot of trouble getting out in one piece.

Unless they were good enough to anticipate it.

As I passed behind the ex-soldier, I tapped him on the back and we moved into the building where our charge was huddled against a wall, eyes wide, staring back out at his pack animal. Or what was left of it.

"We're done here", I called over the constant gunfire.

The terrified man looked from his mule to me. "Wh- we can't. We haven't gotten the supplies."

"You're welcome to try getting by that on your own." I could have cleared the ambush given enough time, especially now I knew where they were and I didn't have the animal slowing me down. But I was over this.

No… that wasn't right. I was over this before we left the storefront. Now I was over the idea Kleo might come after Nate and I. If I need to, I'll handle that before things get dangerous.

I walked past him toward the opposite corner of the building. Hopefully they wouldn't be smart or well equipped enough to set up contingencies on possible escapes. If they were, we would either be moving through the buildings or shooting our way out.

A hand grasped my left brace and I whipped my head around to see the portly man holding onto my arm, trying to pull me back.

Anger flared. What the hell did this guy think he was doing? He may be afraid of Kleo, but he should probably be more afraid of the people actively shooting at him. It didn't matter to me. If the guy wasn't going to listen to the people hired to keep him safe, he could get himself killed.

I ripped my arm from his grip, snatched his forearm, twisting it behind his back, and forced him to the floor. He cried out in surprise and pain as he found himself on the ground, the better part of half a ton pinning him in place.

"Never touch me", I hissed, kneeling over the courier.

He responded with a wordless cry as the gunfire slowly dropped to a trickle.

"I will bring you back to Goodneighbor. If you want to die, feel free to try your luck." I purposely left the statement ambiguous as I released his arm and stood. Nate was waiting beside us, looking on with a carefully guarded expression. That he didn't interfere spoke volumes about how he felt about this situation. He was probably just as frustrated as me.

Getting shot at tends to do that.

The hail of rounds stopped and silence bloomed across our small portion of the city. It was almost jarring.

We needed to get moving; if these people were determined enough, they would be moving to intercept. I started back toward a collapsed portion of the rear wall allowing light to stream into the destroyed building's lobby. The labored sounds of Nate helping the hauler to his feet followed me as I cleared the immediate area outside our temporary haven. It was another street, this one littered with mounds of rubble and a building collapsed across the road a half klick back toward Goodneighbor.

Is this what most of the other streets in the area look like?

I'd seen plenty of blockages and obstructed streets while picking my way through the city, but nothing like this. If that route was the only obvious path to the docks from the two primary population centers here, of course any competent group of bandits would set up ambushes along the way.

Maybe I should leave Gerald out here. He and Kleo sent me into a surefire ambush. I had no interest in returning to Goodneighbor, but even after this I doubt Nate would abandon the courier and head back to Diamond City. Damn bleeding heart.

Once the other two had joined me, I eased out into the debris strewn street, hugging the building's north side. With the ample cover and obstructed sightlines, there were fewer available perches, but it didn't mean they wouldn't have anyone waiting.

We moved relatively quickly, putting as much distance between ourselves and our attackers as we could. It was still painfully slow. The courier was resistant, every so often complaining about going back empty handed, but it was only to Nate, and low enough he thought I might not hear. The ex-soldier never responded, only plodded along beside the portly man, aim sweeping the buildings around us.

Yeah, he definitely didn't take well to being shot at.

There were no signs of our attackers over the next half hour. We rejoined the original path a kilometer later. By that point, the hauler had grown quiet. He made me nervous; he wasn't a real courier which meant their normal man probably got killed. On top of that, he was damn near petrified of Kleo.

Scared people make mistakes too. If he thought Kleo was a more immediate threat than me, he might make the mistake of trying to go through with the Assaultron's threat.

I guess the question at this point is whether or not he's more scared of me than Kleo. Probably not. That meant there was an outside possibility they try to ambush Nate and I too. If they have people posted to watch us, they would know we were returning, not only without the supplies, but without their pack animal.

All of that in mind, I was operating on overdrive, clearing as many positions as I could while we trudged through the corpse of a city. It was still a near fruitless endeavor, but in the one in a thousand chance I caught someone preparing an ambush, it was worth it.

The city's unnerving silence made me wonder just how densely populated it is. From what I've seen the metropolitan area was around 20 miles across. If the largest settlement was Diamond City, somewhere in the low four digits, there was a lot of dead space in the city.

A lot of places for someone to hide.

We made good time and within another half hour, we were only a kilometer and a half from Goodneighbor.

And that's when my mind began screaming at me once again.

This time was different. There was no kilometer long kill box. We were heading toward a T-junction about 200 meters ahead where we would turn left (south). The cover was just as bad though. There was very little by way of debris scattered over the road. I slowed to a stop, scanning the buildings ahead.

I didn't have to signal Nate to follow suit this time. I heard his footsteps come to an abrupt halt along with the more labored march of the 'courier'.

The building at the head of the junction was mostly intact. It had a commanding view of the road ahead of us and it would be the most obvious place for any shooters to wait. Problem with that is it wouldn't matter if I knew they were there. Unless I could call in an airstrike or firemission, my only option was to wait for someone in the building to take a shot and hope it didn't kill Nate.

And unless I missed something, I didn't have access to TACCOM.

Footsteps started up behind me once again. It was the measured gait and lighter steps of the ex-soldier. I glanced back toward the two men lagging behind. Nate was likewise studying our surroundings, moving toward the side of the road, probably to take cover, and-

My heart leaped as I twisted, wrenching my rifle around, and sighted on Gerald. I squeezed the trigger and put a bullet through his neck as the bastard levelled his handgun at the ex-soldier's back. The report exploded into the thick silence that had draped itself over the immediate area.

The moment the round left the barrel, I knew I missed my mark. The projectile severed his carotid artery and tore his trachea in half before blowing most of the meat off the back side of his neck.

But it missed the man's spine.

As he fell to the ground, the hauler's finger tightened around his handgun's trigger and a second shot burst into the early evening air. I watched in slow motion as the round erupted from Nate's chest, just under his left collarbone.

The image of blood pouring from the other man as he collapsed, grasping at the wound barely had time to register when something extremely powerful slammed into the side of my head. My shields caught whatever it was, but another shot would drop them.

My legs coiled, and just as they unloaded, driving me toward my wounded companion, a second round drilled into my back and set off the alarm in my helmet.

Two shooters.

I covered a dozen meters, halfway to Nate, when a third shot missed just over my left shoulder, but the following one crashed into my back. The gel layer pulsed to help dissipate the impact, but it still knocked me off balance and I had to scramble to keep my footing.

Before any more shots could ring out, I reached Nate, laying on the ground, blood pouring from the chest wound. I barely broke stride as I scooped him off the rubble strewn asphalt and turned the dying hauler's head into an explosion of blood and bone under an armored boot.

Motherfucker.

I drove my feet into the street hard enough to splinter pavement and dove into the nearest building. Another round cracked by me as I disappeared into the relative safety of the crumbling tower.

The ex-soldier, most likely already in shock, groaned as I slid to a stop in the dark interior of our temporary cover. We weren't out of danger by any means, but if I didn't treat that wound, it wouldn't matter.

I set the smaller man down, holding his back off the ground with my left arm and pulled the rifle sling over his neck with my right. I set the rifle aside and began rummaging through his satchel. It felt like an eternity, searching for the medical supplies he carried while blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt, jacket, pants, and ground below.

Eventually, I pulled out gauze, a small bottle of alcohol, one of the Stimpaks, and a syringe I think was MedX.

"Sorry", I muttered as I unscrewed the bottle's cap and poured some of the contents over Nate's chest. I placed a patch of gauze on the broken floor behind him and poured more disinfectant over it. The smaller man groaned again as I lowered him to the ground and ripped his shirt open. The bullet hole was high and to the left; it looked like the round had missed his heart and lungs, but the amount of blood he was losing… would a Stimpak fix that?

Only one way to find out.

I pulled the needle shield off of the syringe and injected whatever it was into his chest just below the wound. No sooner had the plunger bottomed in the syringe than tissue within the wound started shifting.

What the hell?

No time. Blood was still flowing from the wound; if he continued losing it like this, healing the bullet hole wouldn't matter. I grabbed the gauze and poured what was left of the alcohol over it before wrapping it tightly around his chest. To keep it protected, I tore a long strip from his clean pant leg and tied it over the damp fabric.

With the wound dressed as well as it could be, I snapped the cap off of the MedX cartridge and gave him another shot just over the gauze.

As much as I needed to move, I couldn't risk carrying the smaller man anywhere until the wound clotted. I placed my left hand over his chest and pressed to help staunch the bleeding.

How long will that Stimpak take? Will it close the wound entirely? Or just fix some of the damage?

"What… what the hell- did that asshole… did he shoot me?"

My gaze shot from the wound to Nate's paling face. His eyes were wide and glazed, but he was awake.

"Yes, he missed your heart by a few inches; you should be fine."

"I should be-" he grimaced and a quiet moan interrupted the rest of the sentence. "Only you would tell me I should be fine with a hole in my chest." He shifted under my hand. Apparently that was a bad idea because as he did the smaller man gasped. He grabbed my wrist with his left hand as his eyes screwed shut. "This really fucking hurts."

I cocked my head. "You were shot."

"Your bedside manner sucks", he spat, eyes still squeezed closed.

Never practiced.

"There are at least two snipers somewhere to the west. I don't know if or how many more of Kleo's people are after us."

The ex-soldier slowly opened his eyes and offered a weak, amused smile. He took a deep, shaking breath. "So we need to get moving."

I lifted my hand and, to my surprise, there was no blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.

Stimpaks huh?

"You need to be careful; don't reopen the wound."

"Right… What did you give me? I- my chest is going… numb."

"MedX."

"Oh. Well… that explains… why I'm not still unconscious." His speech was slow and uncertain, but he seemed aware enough.

I helped my companion to his feet and retrieved his discarded rifle. As Nate took his first step, the smaller man stumbled and grabbed my forearm for support.

Should I carry him?

It would probably be safer to stay here and combat ready than risk being ambushed again without the ability to respond.

"Are you able to walk?"

He took a few deep breaths before releasing my arm and nodding. I handed him his rifle, which he slipped stiffly over his neck, and began forward slowly, the ex-soldier placing a hand on my back to steady himself.

This was always a bad idea… I knew I should have just destroyed that goddamn robot and been done with it. This was a set up from the start. And now we're stuck. I can't risk leaving the building with Nate, he would be a sitting duck, and I can't risk leaving Nate here to hunt down the snipers. The only option is staying put until nightfall, give Nate some time to recover, and move to a better position. We couldn't stay on the bottom floor though, I need a few less points of egress to worry about.

Once I'm able to move Nate to a more secure position… I'm going to show 'Kleo' and her subordinates why you don't fuck with a SPARTAN. Especially one with my… particular disposition.

Unfortunately, it's a lesson they won't get the chance to use.

Maybe it will prevent something like this happening again with someone else.

I doubt anyone will want my 'services' after this.

Or maybe a lot of people will.

Doesn't matter either way; I'm not here to make a business of taking odd jobs.

After several painstaking minutes of Nate shuffling behind me, we settled on the third floor of what seems to have been an office building at some point. Almost as soon as the ex-soldier slid into a sitting position inside a store room, he was out again. I took the opportunity to eat and drink, but I wasn't able to relax any. Not only did I have an unknown number of the Assaultron's men to worry about, but the nagging concern for my companion's wound kept tugging at the back of my mind. The Stimpak seemed to have done it's job, but it was impossible for me to know for sure.

The emotion was… new.

I never had anyone to worry about, not really.

After I finished eating, I scouted the floor and found two other access points besides the service stairs we used: another staircase set in the opposite corner of the building, and a defunct elevator shaft.

Once I checked on Nate, who was still unconscious, I found a good vantage point near the front of the room and settled down for another round of guard duty.

… I really hate waiting.

"Can I ask you something", the smaller man muttered quietly.

I could appreciate he was trying to stay quiet, but we were still in a precarious situation; being unable to hunt down those shooters means they might have been able to track us. And who knows how many other people that Assaultron had out here looking for us now. This isn't the first time he's used those exact words, and it never seems to lead anywhere I want to go.

But he also won't let it go until he gets some sort of answer.

Dammit… I turned from the blown out window with a commanding view of the street and front entrance of our new temporary shelter to my companion. "What?"

He looked unsure of himself. The ex-soldier opened his mouth before closing it and frowning for a moment. "Have you- have you ever left someone behind in the field?"

"Technically yes."

The smaller man squinted at me. "What does that mean?"

"I left a squad of… regs behind to finish the mission. A few of them didn't make it."

"Did you know they would die?"

What is this about? "Why?"

"I-" he stopped and shrugged, a sharp wince following what was probably a stab of pain in his chest. The ex-soldier reached up to rub his shoulder. "I've had to. We got caught in a town square while on patrol. Another platoon was in trouble, out in the open." His eyes slowly drifted into the same distant stare I'd seen countless times from other regs. "Mine was ordered to retreat. We… we left them there. 45 men and women. No survivors." A small shudder wracked the smaller man's body as he turned his clouded gaze on me. But it wasn't me he was looking at. "That was the first time I questioned what I was doing. I was a good soldier, I followed orders but… that didn't do anything to chase the images of this one guy away. He and I looked at each other while my platoon was pulling out, just as a bullet caved in his left eye and blew it out the back of his head." He paused for a moment, something akin to pain contorting his face. "We abandoned them, just… left them there to die." The ex-soldier's stare finally returned to the present. "Two soldiers in my platoon committed suicide that night, one of them from my squad. It was dead in the middle of our worst deployment, near the end of the war. A couple others were booted after a few screws got knocked loose. One guy almost beat a Lieutenant to death who got in his face about… I don't remember what. I knew that was it for me too; the moment I broke out of the Zone and started imagining I traded positions with that guy, it was time for me to get out."

Despite my efforts to focus on our surroundings, I found myself intrigued. It was the first time he'd talked specifically about his military experience. It was so unlike anything I've been through, what with working alone the majority of my time.

The ex-soldier had fallen silent, searching my visor for something. Did he want some input from me? I couldn't relate to what he was saying in the slightest; our wars were nothing alike, and our roles were just as different.

"I didn't re-up after that. I couldn't." A small, sad smile twitched across his lips. "It's a bad joke that I really only got to spend, what, two years living my dream with Nora. With Shaun. After all of that. Maybe it's karma… who knows."

Karma? I don't know about that. Karma hasn't done anything for me, and I've got a pretty fucking big check to cash.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The smaller man took a deep breath. "You were me, I was that guy... but you saved me."

I cocked my head. "You aren't a SPARTAN."

"What", he asked, suddenly agitated, "does that mean I'm any less responsible for saving someone's life? Or not saving them?"

"In some situations. I said I'd get you to the Institute."

"And I promised to protect my brothers and sisters."

This was irrational; he knew just as well as I did if I had been a regular person we'd both be dead. There are things normal humans can't do.

However, while it was completely alien to me, I could understand why he was so emotional about the memory. It was the same as the ODST's trying to stare holes in my armor while their squadmates lay dead on the floor of the Pelican. That kind of camaraderie was something Fourier and his squad spent far too much time trying to beat into me. Constant 'team building', like making me eat each meal with them, what seemed like daily 'conversations' with them. Hell, any training I did, I had to do with them.

I smiled. That last one turned into a game: how far did I have to push to make them give up? I got the rest of the squad to tap out twice, once during an hours long PT session, and another during hand to hand drills. They began staggering their time with me during those combat drills after that, which is cheating in my mind.

"That isn't something you understand is it?" The question wasn't accusatory. If anything, it was a bit sad.

I shrugged; I could understand, but I couldn't sympathize.

The ex-soldier searched my visor for… something, even more intently than before, but I still couldn't tell what. "Even when you left those other soldiers behind?"

What was he looking for? He already knew the answer was no (though, he didn't know about the volatile relationship between ODST's and SPARTANs).

I cocked my head. "What are you asking?"

"What am I asking?" Nate asked it as if he'd never heard those words before. "What do you mean?"

"You know my answer, what are you looking for?"

"I- I don't really know…" He blinked slowly. "I guess this all just brought back some… bad memories."

My internal clock started sounding and I switched my HUD to NV to do another scan of the area. Nothing. It was dark enough to give me visual cover; I'll be able to slip into Goodneighbor without being spotted.

"Stay here, stay out of sight. I'll be back in a few hours."

The ex-soldier's face twisted into a mixture of pain, frustration, and sadness for a moment. He was probably upset with the sudden change of subject, but the reminiscing could wait until after I dealt with the present threat.

Eventually he closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "You're going to kill them", he said solemnly. It clearly wasn't a question.

"Yes."

He sighed. "I guess I can't blame you, they set us up." My companion's expression changed again. "Give that damn robot a bullet for me then."

I nodded.

Notes:

Is this a filler arc? This feels like the beginning of a filler arc. No, this is not filler; I don't have the time or patience to write that shit so worry not, I shall not 'Bleach' you in this story. Hurray though, we're back to the action! Looking back on this chapter it was the impetus for a lot of things that happen later in the story, and with how I write, I try to keep significant events relevant. With that being said, the next chapter is equally as important to the progression of our characters here. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 12: What I Do Best

Notes:

Greetings all and I hope I find you well on this journey of insanity. Well we're back here with some fighting. But there's a twist! I won't give that away, though. Thought I'd make up for having author's notes that are too long with a short one today, so as always, make sure to leave your feedback and enjoy!

Moving without my companion in tow was… relieving. This was the first time since landing in the hellhole that was the Commonwealth I haven't been tethered to someone. First it was the group in Sanctuary, then Nate, Valentine, now Nate again. Being able to move quickly and discreetly without having to worry about how far I was leaving whoever I had to protect behind, or how loud and conspicuous they were was a weight off my shoulders.

It did feel a bit strange though; I caught myself slowing to check for Nate several times, but the only thing I found was the gloom of an unlit urban landscape. Or what was left of one anyways.

Even with those minor delays, it took less than 10 minutes to cover the last kilometer or so to Goodneighbor.

And now I was free to do things my way.

My chest swelled with an eagerness I hadn't felt… probably since my first deployment with Fourier's squad. Even if this was just a quick clear out of some small criminal cell, it was more that I had the opportunity at all.

The settlement had floodlighting similar to Diamond City, if not as powerful. Their problem was the lack of a natural perimeter. The relatively clear parking lot around the stadium meant it was practically impossible to get near the walls of the settlement without being spotted. Here though, there was nothing like that. Goodneighbor was surrounded on all sides by more collapsing buildings. The only thing differentiating the buildings inside the settlement from those outside was the wall.

Yet the guards knew what they were doing when they deployed their floodlights. It looked like an even split between spotlights illuminating the immediate surroundings, and those pointed at the towers neighboring their perimeter wall. Scouting the town, I didn't find any gaps in their coverage. That meant I wouldn't be getting over the wall without drawing attention to myself. A good gunfight wouldn't go amiss here, but the more warning Kleo got, the more likely she would pop smoke and run. Or if she really is confident in her ability to come out on top, dig in deeper.

I settled behind a window on the tenth floor of a building near the settlement's front gate. My mind raced while I looked through the skeleton of a tower in front of me at the powerful floodlights. Huh… that second one sounded good.

I have no guarantee she wouldn't run.

Okay, so if I can't get over the wall, and walking through the front gate is probably a great way to get shot again, how do I get in without raising too many alarms? If there are any tunnels underneath, they're going to be guarded as well (even if I had the time to find one); a gunfight might be the only way through. These guys are going to be well organized, but they aren't equipped to fight me. It wouldn't take long to make a hole, and once I did, getting to the Assaultron wouldn't be far behind.

And kill innocent people to do it?

They're harboring someone who tried to kill Nate and I.

Knowingly?

They know what she does.

And that may be a necessity; if she supplies them with quality weapons and ammo, they might not have a choice.

So what happens when I remove her? I remove their supply line, they'll be in the same position. The only difference is whether I'm the one to pull the trigger or not.

They can always find a different source.

Uh-huh. Quickly enough and to the same effect?

I squelched the internal argument and turned my attention back to the settlement's perimeter.

If I didn't want to turn this into a bloodbath, yet, how was I supposed to-

These people aren't equipped to fight me. My gaze snapped to what was left of the tower's upper floors.

No lights.

It makes sense: why would they spend clearly limited resources to monitor an area no intruder would use? An incredibly simple strategy formed as I drew on my mind's map of the town from earlier in the day. The small cluster of relatively intact towers that made up the center of town were actually positioned toward its rear. Were any buildings close enough to make this work? My mind replayed the last half hour of scouting, several possibilities presenting themselves. If I was going to make that jump, it needed to be a sure thing; falling 80 meters was survivable, but it would hardly be pleasant, to say nothing of doing this covertly.

I slipped away from the bank of windows and made my way back to the ground floor. The five minutes it took to circle to the rear of the town was spent trying to measure distances and crafting the back end of this… plan.

That word may be a bit generous, but if I could get across to one of the towers, traversing to the marketplace would be easy. After that it was just a matter of either making my way down the building's interior, or scaling the exterior. That down climb wouldn't be fun if they were looking.

Or… if this plan was already going this brand of crazy, maybe a down climb wasn't the answer.

The structures behind the town were just as dilapidated as everything else, but several were intact enough for this to work. If I'm going to take this approach, I couldn't risk being spotted entering one of the buildings hugging Goodneighbor's rear perimeter. I scrambled up a pile of rubble laying against one of the towers, carefully placing my armored boots to prevent toppling the loose concrete chunks. Once I reached the base of the building, I began climbing.

Decayed as it was, finding the holds necessary to do so was easy. Hell, it almost felt like I was climbing a ladder. On a few occasions I had to make my own handholds in the concrete support pillars or make a leap across a large gap, but the ascent was surprisingly quick.

Eventually, I was comfortably above the illumination pouring out of the town's floodlights. I squeezed my way through a blown out window into the crumbling interior. Once I found the building's service staircase tucked into the southeast corner, it was a matter of moments before I found myself emerging onto the uppermost intact level.

Yeah- this wasn't my best plan. To be fair though, it was far from my worst. I stalked to the edge of the building closest to Goodneighbor, looking through even more shattered windows down at the floodlights now far below. Definitely more than 80 meters.

My gaze shifted from the perimeter up to the tower across from me. It wasn't the marketplace, I think that's one building over, but it was nearly as intact. The adjacent floor wasn't only undamaged, it had lights on inside.

That complicates things. Breaking glass would be warning enough, but if the area is occupied, that might mean guards are stationed there. Dealing with them didn't concern me, but if any managed to raise the alarm, or any shots were fired, this would get loud very quickly. At that point, I wouldn't have a choice but to engage. Then there's the added possibility that Kleo would bug out as soon as the first shot went off.

There weren't any buildings in the vicinity taller than this one; if it turned into a gunfight, I'd just have to move fast. The guards wouldn't be able to slow me down much, the issue would be finding the Assaultron in time while dispatching whatever guards engaged.

I scanned the perimeter and my intended destination once more to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Three guards on the wall directly below me, four citizens between the wall and my target, several people occupying the floors below my chosen landing, none on it though. Floodlights still pointed about 10 floors below me, no patrols walking the perimeter (that was odd), more guards milling around the town, but none were watching for an intruder from above.

Nothing left to do but make the jump.

With the thought, I backed away from the edge of the building and slipped to the far side. It was about a dozen meters, plenty of space. A heartbeat later, my legs coiled and I surged into a sprint. The floor under me shook in protest and the crash of each footfall was absolutely audible to the men on the wall below. It was hard to hide half a ton at full speed.

It wouldn't matter though; a split second later, I reached the edge of the crumbling tower and launched myself into the night sky.

A rush of exhilaration washed over me as I soared high over the wall, and any guards who may be looking for me. This was far from a conventional infiltration, but few of mine were. Anything from dropping out of a D77-TC Pelican at supersonic velocity to hiding in a weapon's crate, I did what I had to. The fun ones were always the most dangerous. This was different; it had been the better part of a year since I was free to operate on my own. Sure, Fourier's squad was IV's, some of the best if I understand right, but their methods were too… rigid. Undertaking impossible missions time and again, only having myself to rely on breeds a different type of thinking. Of course being special forces, they were well versed in unconventional warfare, but it wasn't the same. It was an exercise in frustration at times, pacing myself to stay with them. Eventually Fourier agreed to put me on point which allowed me more operational freedom. This is where I belong though: on my own, only limited by my imagination and available resources.

As I soared toward the building, I twisted so the back of my left shoulder was pointed at the rapidly approaching window. I tucked my chin to my chest to avoid the worst of the impact, and pinned my rifle to my stomach with my right arm.

It took around a second for me to hurtle over the 30 meters between the takeoff and target locations. With no illumination, it would be impossible for anyone to see my deep blue, almost black armor against the darkness of the night sky. I'm not an optimist, but I doubt any of them have infrared or NVS.

My shoulder crashed through the safety glass window and as soon as I felt the pane give, I was twisting again. I tucked into a roll over my left shoulder and came up with my rifle aimed into the sparsely furnished room's dimly lit interior.

Nothing.

That certainly wasn't quiet, so I didn't have time to wait and see if someone was going to come check.

With one more quick glance, I slipped to the double doors at the far end of the room, stopped, listened, and without the telltale pounding of approaching guards, swung one open. Beyond the room that served as my landing zone was a poorly lit hallway running to t-intersections on either side. I needed to find a way to the roof (or whatever served as the current roof) before guards got here. If the brief glimpse I had of the building meant anything, I needed to climb 6 or 7 more floors.

This high up, it would take too long to get down to the marketplace if I engaged now. But if any guards were unlucky enough to find me…

I crept through into the hall and quickly pushed to the rear of the building. It didn't take long to find the service stairs.

They weren't vacant.

The sounds of boots pounding on metal seeped through the steel security door before I even had a chance to open it.

No point in being subtle now; they know I'm here, the best thing I can do is put distance between us and get across to my target's building.

I burst through the door and straight into a guard who, with his rifle down and arm extended, looked like he was just about to open the door himself. Without time to do anything else, I turned into him and the bottom of my right pauldron crashed into the man's head. The blow wouldn't be enough to kill him, but being flung over the railing and out into the void in the center of the staircase, only to fall 30 floors would.

The four other guards stared in various states of shock as I bounded up to the next floor. I should have eliminated them, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds, but at this point I didn't have many of those left if Kleo knew I was here.

As I climbed past the next 5 levels, I heard various bangs reverberating up the staircase as the guard's body crashed into the railing several times before ending with a much more definitive, wet boom.

Reaching the next floor up, I burst through the service door into another hall, this one much worse for wear. No lights illuminated the crumbling walls and I could hear wind streaming through what had to be broken windows on the far side of the building. This would work.

It had been about 20 seconds since I crashed through the side of the building. Assuming guards below my landing had heard the glass break, I had maybe another 30 seconds before things began getting hectic on the ground floor. Once the guards in the stairwell were able to report what had happened, and who I was, I wouldn't have much time to catch Kleo if she was going to run. Provided they didn't have radios, which I hadn't seen on any of the patrols this morning or on the men I'd run into, it would take them a minute or two to notify anyone without some sort of relay position. The question was, could I make it down to ground floor and through whatever mess was waiting for me there before they had time to react?

No time to wait and find out.

I ran from the staircase, turned down a hall leading me toward my target building. I caught a glimpse of the structure through a broken window at the end of the corridor and surged into a full sprint.

An instant later, I launched myself into the air once again, but with a much more direct trajectory, aiming for a window one floor below me. Luckily there were no citizens occupying that room either. Unfortunately, that meant I couldn't interrogate anyone to determine the Assaultron's position.

I'm still flying through the air between a couple of skyscrapers. One problem at a time.

Using the same method as before, I crashed through the window and cleared my landing zone before slipping out into the hall, searching for someone to 'speak' with. It didn't take long. As I got to one end of the hall, I heard the service door burst open, and the distinct sound of pounding footsteps.

The guards could be a good source of information, but did I have time to subdue them?

It was either this or risk losing the robot because I didn't know where to look.

Weaving through the collection of dishevelled offices and hallways, I hurried to meet the group. The less time they wasted getting to me the better. Unfortunately, it was impossible to keep quiet on a floor covered in discarded trash, broken wood, and overturned furniture, but I was doing a much better job of it than my prey.

50 seconds now. The guards would probably be entering the first building to begin combing it. There would be some added confusion with my second jump, so they should be a bit slower to get around to the marketplace. I needed to take advantage of that if I was going to do this with minimal fighting.

At least until I reached Kleo.

I approached a hall they were about to enter and stopped, crouched low next to the corner. It was hard to tell, but it sounded like 5 distinct sets of footsteps. Letting my rifle rest on its sling, I pulled my knife out and coiled my legs. Gunshots would only make things happen faster.

The pounding slowed as the group neared my ambush location. Just as they were about to round the corner, they stopped.

So they either know I'm here, or they're better disciplined than I give them credit for.

Their breathing was shallow but controlled. These guards were nervous, but they handled it well.

Time to change that.

The guard closest to the wall took the next step, most likely to wrap around the corner and clear the hall while another swung out to cover. I beat them to the punch. Before any of them could move further, I whirled left around the corner, still low in my crouch, and delivered an open palm strike to the chest of the stocky woman in front of me. The blow lifted her off the floor and sent her careening into two men behind her. There was a distinct lack of pulverized bone, so she was probably wearing a chest plate under her vest.

Two men on the opposite side of the hall were just beginning to register my sudden appearance when I sprung to their side of the corridor. I planted my knee into the chest of the first guard and he slammed into the wall with a loud crunch. He hadn't been wearing armor, and I felt his ribcage turn to dust under the blow.

The rear guard was leveling his rifle at me. I grabbed the barrel and, with a hard twist, wrenched the weapon from his grasp. The man doubled over, grabbing for his right hand that, no doubt, had several dislocated fingers. A quick stab of my knife, straight into his neck, up behind the left side of his jaw severed the guard's brain stem and he dropped to the floor without a sound.

The other two had finally extricated themselves from the tangle of limbs and were struggling back to their feet. The woman I'd struck was still on the ground moaning, arms wrapped around her chest. I switched the knife to my left hand and trained my rifle on the duo with my right.

"Stop", I commanded.

The two men froze, weapons half way to their shoulders.

"Drop them."

After a moment's hesitation, the guards complied.

"Where is Kleo?"

The guard to my right stepped toward me. "Why would we tell you?"

I responded, both instinctively to an advancing enemy combatant, as well as the question, by jamming my knife into the base of his skull. I didn't have time for an actual interrogation, and who the hell steps toward a person who is holding them at gunpoint?

My attention switched back to the last standing guard as I pulled the knife out with a wet squelch and the dead man dropped to the ground.

"Where is Kleo?"

The man stared up at me, wide eyed and shaking. Now I had a chance to look at him, I realized the guy was probably even younger than me. He was skinny and pale, with a figure that struggled to fill out the black uniform and tac-vest he was wearing.

"Wha- what do you want with her?" His voice was shrill and tight with fear.

I hefted the knife near his head level, and his dinner plate sized eyes switched from my faceplate to the crimson dripping blade.

"I don't have time for a back and forth. Where is she?"

"I don't know, she usually stays in her shop though. All the main vendors do."

That was probably all I would get out of him. I took a step forward, about to dispatch him the same way I had the other two, when my arm froze in place.

Why?

This kid probably only joined Goodneighbor's guard to help defend his home.

So? He's a threat, and he can report my position. Leaving enemy combatants alive is how you get killed.

The guard was staring up at me, shaking, pure terror overflowing from his almost comically wide eyes.

Sympathy is how you get killed.

Even so… I couldn't bring my knife around.

Dammit.

"Follow me, you die. Report where I am or where I'm going, a lot of other people die. Nod if you understand."

After a short pause, the young guard slowly nodded, trembling damn near full on spasms by now.

I glanced down at the other surviving guard, eyes screwed shut, still writhing and moaning. If she was lucky, her broken ribs wouldn't puncture anything important. The other two men on the opposite wall were certainly dead, as well as the third one still laying at my feet… yet this all felt so wrong. I don't leave potential threats. It was the same as when I'd shot the Brotherhood scribe. What was her name? Haylen? Except that hadn't been entirely intentional.

Before reason could reassert itself, I resheathed my knife and slipped away from, as far as I can remember, the first enemies I'd chosen to leave alive.

Just under two minutes.

There would be more guards climbing this building by now. Moving down the interior of the building was a no go. How much higher did this one extend? Another 5 floors? Maybe a bit more? I couldn't risk breaking a window out and jumping from here. Better to let them think I'm still hiding in the building somewhere.

At least until the guards I left alive reported otherwise… What the hell is wrong with me?

No point in worrying about it now.

Oh yes there is. It wouldn't take long to fix that mistake.

I could hear more boots pounding up the service staircase as I approached the steel door, but these ones were far below.

Taking a moment to clear my back, I swung the door open and began up toward the 'roof'. I probably had less than a minute before the approaching force reached the patrol I'd dispatched. At that point, it would be a race to the ground floor between me, scaling the outside of the building, and the guards down the staircase. Provided, again, no radios were involved.

On top of that, it was entirely possible the guards had already been evacuating the marketplace. If it was anything like Diamond City's, there would still be plenty of people clogging the lobby. In a building like this, it would take them five or ten minutes to get everyone cleared out. The confusion would help me get in, but would Kleo still be there when I did?

Ten seconds later, I emerged on the uppermost floor and after another five, I was at the western edge of the building, opposite from where I'd originally crashed through the window. Light was spilling over that edge of the floor, but, as I expected, the floodlights over here were still pointed outward. Consequences of having too few resources to properly defend your perimeter.

Even so, I was still on the clock. Eventually, once the guards found my victims and cleared the rest of the staircase, they would probably order the entire outside illuminated.

I stepped to the ledge, looked down, and smiled. I was almost 120 meters up at this point. It wouldn't be the first time I'd done something like this. An operation, this one with Fourier's squad, came to mind. It was shortly after I'd rotated to point. We were the 'alternative option' for a large insurrectionist base. In the middle of fast winching down one of their buildings during insertion (appropriately, as a UNSC attache was still in the middle of negotiations), we were spotted. I dodged a SPNKR missile from a M41B2 launcher. My braided nano-composite titanium cable didn't.

That drop was from much higher up. I probably would have survived the landing, but my armor would lock up to take the impact. That would have left me immobilized in the middle of a few dozen pissed off Innies with my squadmates 200 meters up.

So as I began to fall, I pushed off the building we'd been winching down toward an adjacent one and began jumping back and forth between them to control my fall. It didn't go perfectly, but that's because I accidentally slammed through a window and tumbled into the building we were supposed to be descending. Probably a better outcome than the first one.

This would be where the gunfire started.

With one last check, I hopped over the edge and began plummeting toward the ground. I pointed my chest down, flaring my arms and legs to control the fall. There was what looked like the beginnings of a perimeter forming around the base of the tower with 4 guards taking up position outside of the marketplace.

While I dropped, I ran a few rough numbers, and watched 3 seconds tick off of my clock. As soon as the third second went by, I twisted, hard. I pulled my legs to my chest and leaned back, so I was almost vertical again before jamming my feet into the brickwork racing by. My titanium clad boots broke through the building's side, jarring me hard enough that, had my bones not been reinforced, they would have splintered like dry firewood.

As it was, the force tried to flip me end over end, but I managed to drive my legs into the crumbling wall and propel myself across to the next tower over. Leaning forward, I aimed my chest at the ground and pulled my left arm to my side. This turned me, so my legs were facing their next target.

After another two count, I repeated the maneuver, directing myself at the marketplace. By this point I was less than 20 meters over the ground, still approaching it at a velocity that would kill most people. Hopefully this would be slow enough to prevent my gel layer from going into hydrostatic lockup. That was unfortunate for the handful of guards just beginning to look up as the noise and brick rained down on their heads.

With my last jump finished, I pointed the bottoms of my feet toward the guard closest to the building. As I did, my rifle came up and I sighted on the extremely surprised looking man to his right. Just as my boots were about to crash into the first guard, I squeezed the trigger and sent a pair of 5.56mm rounds through the second's skull, blowing most of his brain out onto the ground behind him.

In the next instant, 450 kilos of fast falling SPARTAN and Mjolnir slammed into my original target's head. I felt the impact, but barely slowed as the mass of me and my armor, concentrated into my armored boots, shattered the man's helmet, skull, and spine in a shower of blood and bone.

As I hit the ground, I tried tucking into a roll, but there was too much momentum, and it turned into more of a tumble. I careened through the floor to ceiling glass window, shattering it into countless pieces and sending them, as well as several screaming patrons, scattering in all directions.

I didn't wait to see what the two remaining guards behind me would do. The moment I came to a stop, I scrambled back to my feet and slipped into the writhing crowd. My size made it impossible to blend in with the citizens, but at the very least, the rush of people would eliminate the possibility of getting shot at.

Or at least that's what I thought. Before I made it five meters into the mass of now panicked citizens, a half dozen rounds cracked over my head. I glanced behind to see one of the surviving guards tackle the other as he tried to draw a bead on me.

At least one of them wasn't panicking.

I continued to push through the crowd as people bounced off of me in their haste to get out of the lobby. My mind was stuck in overdrive trying to keep track of everything, as usual, but being in the middle of a crowd at least had its benefits this time.

Halfway across the thriving mass of people, a half dozen guards emerged from the deluge directly in front of me, each carrying some form of melee weapon. The first one lunged, aiming his knife at my abdomen. I caught his arm mid-flight, twisted it to the side, and straight kicked him back into another. Suddenly, there was a three meter wide circle as the crowd parted around us.

Two others tried to widen out around me.

It was a decent idea.

My legs coiled and I sprung to my left. The guard's eyes started widening as I landed in front of him. He tried to bring a half meter long machete around. Not a good weapon for close quarters. I batted it aside and brought my right hand down in a cutting motion just inside his left shoulder. The joint crumbled along with his clavicle as the force of the blow collapsed his sternum and threw him to the ground.

I turned my head to see two others approaching from behind, one already swinging a long club at my head. I dropped into a crouch, weapon sailing over me, and twisted, sweeping his legs out with my right. The second was close enough behind that the collapsing guard crashed into them and both tumbled to the floor. Two shots later, they were missing the backs of their heads.

The remaining two were backing away defensively. Both had left their weapons on the ground and held their hands at chest level.

They looked terrified.

Shooting them would risk hitting the still roiling crowd with a pass through, and while it wouldn't take long to dispatch them hand to hand, it was time I didn't need to waste.

I waded back into the crowd and, a moment later, emerged in front of a vacant 'Guns Guns Guns'. The interior of the shop was pitch black. Switching my display to NV, the murky darkness gave way to a large room tinged green. It was filled with rifle crates, pallets of ammunition boxes, and racks of very powerful looking weapons. This Assaultron was stocked with anything a SPARTAN could ask for, from assault weapons to anti-material rifles and recoilless guns. If circumstances had been different, I would have taken a moment to appreciate the armory.

With a quick sweep, I cleared the entrance of traps before vaulting over the counter rifle up-

And the instant my armored boots touched the ground, a group of men peaked out from behind their cover and took aim. None of them had NVS, but I was silhouetted against the well lit lobby behind me.

With a thought, my display faded to normal and my helmet lights began flashing rapidly. I pointed the powerful LEDs at the men, dressed in mismatch combat armor instead of the guards' all black.

The six of them opened fire at the same time as me. While my first three shots hit the closest man, hiding behind a stack of wooden weapon crates, in the head, theirs were wild, trying to spray through the disorienting strobe. My first target collapsed to the ground, minus most of his head, and I started forward, sighting on the next shooter. As I did, it struck me odd: those misses were going straight into the crowd behind me. Did these guys not care about collateral damage?

I tucked myself behind the crates my first victim used for cover just as I dropped the second. The remaining gunfire slackened, but they hadn't been been shooting long enough to-

My legs coiled and I dove out from behind the crates, further into the dark shop's interior. A pair distinct thunks sounded off of the wall behind me as I found my feet again and rushed forward, placing a round between the eyes of another man who was at the back of the room just bringing his rifle around.

The gunfire started up again, this time I was too far forward for my flashing headlamps to affect the three remaining men at once, and I caught a burst from my left. At the same time, the pair of grenades went off behind me, blowing the crates apart and launching a cloud of shrapnel into my back.

Between the two, my shield's alarm started blaring in my helmet and the overpressure sent me into a tumble. But two grenades in a confined space like this with little to dampen the concussion? Those men would be regretting that decision.

I slammed into something hard enough to send it flying into the far wall at the back of the shop as I found my feet and skidded to a stop. Rifle back up, I saw two of the remaining men on their hands and knees, mouths hanging open as they gasped for air. The third was still hiding behind another pile of boxes across the room. He was probably protected from the worst of the blast.

Four more shots, and the two disoriented men were dead. I turned my attention to the la-

And suddenly I was no longer on my feet. My head was ringing as I found myself careening back toward the store's entrance. I crashed through the counter and tumbled into the lobby. As I slammed down on my back, my bewildered mind noticed a cloud of dust and debris exploding from the mouth of the shop and begin raining down on me.

What the hell just happened?

I stared at the storefront, trying to make sense of how I ended up outside. I could see the counter with a gaping hole torn through its center where I rammed into it, but other than that, the interior was obscured by swirling smoke and debris. The cloud was still expanding from the mouth of the store, blocking anything more than a few meters off the ground.

Bomb.

The bleating siren warning me of my depleted shields began piercing the fog draped over my mind. Whatever that was, it rang my bell hard. I didn't have a concussion, my HUD would have notified me, and I know what those feel like, but it hit me hard enough to put me on my ass literally and figuratively.

The sound of falling debris and something collapsing in the back of the store joined my armor's alarm. A few groans from the people who had been in the lobby and caught by the overpressure came through the disorientation a moment later.

That snapped me back. If there were people in here, a lot of them would be guards at this point.

Move.

Head still ringing, I climbed painfully to my feet. The lobby was a mess of sprawled citizens and a few dozen guards. Most of the building's ground floor windows were blown out, with glass shards covering the ground beyond. It took me a moment to realize the only light in the marketplace was filtering in from outside; the overhead lights had been shattered from the concussion. Even that was muted, the cloud of dust blooming over the lobby's interior like a haze.

What were they thinking with a bomb like that in here?

I began picking my way through the crowd back toward the storefront. At least there weren't many directly in front of the blast, most had probably tried to get clear when the shooting started. A few people were laying on the lobby floor, staring at the ceiling, wide eyed, blood dripping from blown eardrums. Several others were sprawled on the ground in front of the shop, pools of crimson forming under them. I couldn't see the bullet wounds through the thick layer of dust that had already covered everything, but it was obvious they'd been caught in the first spray of gunfire.

My rifle was gone, probably torn off its sling in the blast. At least my handgun was still stuck to my hip. As I pulled it from its mag clamp, a wave of anger and frustration washed over my beleaguered mind. What am I doing? I should have known better than to come here. This was always going to be a trap. If I was in Kleo's position, the moment I knew my first ambush had failed, this is what I would have done. Especially if my target had survived several large caliber rifle rounds. I can't be making mistakes like this.

There was one thing though…

I didn't look over my shoulder, but I could feel the lobby full of wounded and dead at my back. The collateral damage here was unacceptable. I wasn't the most sympathetic person, but one thing I've always made sure of is using the correct amount of force to get the job done. Some (Nate) might disagree with my methods, but non-combatants were always off limits.

Debris crunched under my feet as I skirted what was left of the counter, handgun trained on the shop's cloudy interior. Why was everything flashing…?

Shit. I switched off my strobing lights and reactivated my display's night vision system. The optics did their best to filter through the dust and smoke from the explosion, but I couldn't see more than a half dozen meters in front of me.

It was certainly personal the first time out in the city. Whenever someone tries to kill you, it's hard to take it any other way. Now though… now I was pissed.

I'm going to tear that robot apart.

As I made my way toward the back, I found body parts scattered around what was left of the armory. There wasn't much blood, explosions have a habit of flash frying any liquids, but I knew from prior experience the air would be filled with the acrid smell of burning plastic and flesh. Not for the first time, I was glad my helmet filtered out the smell as much as the smoke.

Unfortunately, the weapons that had lined the walls were twisted heaps sprawled around the room, mixing with the dismembered bodies like some macabre artwork of war. The wooden weapon crates were as much smoking mulch spread across the display. Whatever explosive they used, it wasn't the homegrown variety; those were generally gasoline or ammonium nitrate (a favorite of mine in a pinch). Both tended to be more 'bang' than 'boom' and generally set everything on fire afterwards. There was no accompanying fireball either. This was high grade explosives.

"Put your weapons down, and surrender!"

I whirled toward the front of the store, but couldn't see anything through the still settling dust. The voice was shaky. Whoever it came from was terrified.

It was the guards but… why? If I were them, I'd want to eliminate whoever had killed a dozen of their men. Hell as far as they knew, I was responsible for the bomb.

But I didn't kill that many.

Right, the six in here were very clearly not guards.

My handgun was functional, no rifle. The sniper… shit. I'd landed on it when the bomb threw me out into the lobby. I pulled the weapon from its sling and my heart dropped. The scope was crushed and its polymer stock had been shattered. Despite that, the receiver and barrel looked undamaged, though I would have to disassemble it to see. Either way, I wasn't going to take chances with a 12.7mm rifle blowing up in my face. I'd never gotten to fire the damn thing…

"You have ten seconds."

So what do I do here? I could fight my way out, but at this point it seemed likely they weren't in league with Kleo if she was willing to blow their marketplace. On the other hand, if they think I'm responsible for this, they might try something stupid anyways. And I did kill several of them on the way in.

I could make this situation a lot worse if I shoot my way out of here. I don't need this town and, most likely, Diamond City on my ass.

What if they decide to start shooting?

Then I make them understand why that's a bad idea. Until then, picking this fight only makes life more complicated.

… I hate playing politics. They put me behind a trigger, not a desk.

Yet no one else is here to do it for me. Besides, killing these people doesn't seem right.

'Doesn't seem right'. Until they start trying to kill me.

I reslung the half destroyed rifle, clamped the handgun back to my thigh, and began trudging toward the front of the shop. As I neared the lobby, light from somewhere beyond the smoke began turning the swirling clouds into a blinding mess of contorting shadows. It reminded me of morning fog hovering over the swamp near my childhood home.

A few meters from the front, I disabled NVS. My visor began polarizing to compensate for what must have been one of their perimeter spotlights.

Doubt bloomed from the back of my mind and I came to a stop just far enough away from the front to remain obscured. I was about to surrender. I'd never done this- never thought about doing this. How had it gotten to this point? Why am I putting myself at risk when I still have no reason to?

It isn't surrender.

But I'm giving them an opportunity to regain control of the situation.

I can't go with SOP when these aren't normal parameters. There are more variables than I normally work with. What happens to this settlement if I eliminate most of their guard to escape? What will the reaction be in the surrounding towns?

And what if, even after this, they're still working with Kleo?

Then that, and I, becomes their problem, and the decision is theirs.

Right… I took a deep breath. If things begin going sideways, I go back to plan A.

My feet carried me the final few meters, hands held out to my sides.

Even with my visor polarizing as far as it would go, the moment I emerged from the much thicker dust cloud that had been trapped in the storefront, I was almost blinded by their spotlight. The dead were still laying at the mouth of the storefront, while some of the citizens a little further away were just beginning to rouse themselves from the concussion shock.

"Stop there!" The voice was now outright trembling.

I stopped just outside of the shop, hands still held out to my sides.

"Identify yourself."

Identify myself? I had no intention of giving these people my name, or any information about me, really.

"I'm here for Kleo."

"I said identify yourself. We will shoot you if you don't comply."

Shooting me is a bad idea, and my retaliation wouldn't be the first reason. I looked around at the haze of fine dust trapped in the lobby. There was too much for a powerful deflagration, but it was something to worry about.

"That would cause another explosion."

"What do you mean?"

I exhaled. I hate dealing with inexperienced people. Hadn't Valentine mentioned something about the mayor being a friend?

"Is there someone else I can talk to?"

"Wha- why?"

That sounds like a 'yes'.

"The mayor. Tell him I'm a friend of Valentine's."

"Valentine? Like the detective?"

This guy was so nervous it seemed like he'd never seen a gunfight before. Why is he the one they decided to have 'negotiate'?

"Yes", I spat.

"Hold- hold on."

Hold on? Plan A is starting to sound like the better option. I shifted my weight and checked my right hand as it started to fall toward my sidearm. I didn't want to set off another explosion either, the knife would be a better option here.

Inconvenience isn't a good reason to start killing people again.

No, but being under the gun sights of someone as jumpy as whoever was talking for them is.

Murmuring began somewhere beyond the spotlight flooding the lobby and I heard several people running back and forth behind the entrance. Did Valentine's name carry that much weight here?

30 tense, uncomfortable seconds ticked off my mission clock as I waited. Each one felt like an eternity. An eternity of waiting for some jumpy, undisciplined guard to shoot and start the show for real. An eternity of keeping my hand from reaching for my knife. An eternity of imagining what might happen next. This is exactly why I don't do this.

Eventually, more footsteps began approaching from somewhere behind the blinding floodlight. My muscles coiled.

"This is Hancock, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" This voice was even more gravelly than Kellogg's, and unless I was imagining it, sounded a bit amused.

So they did get the mayor. My body relaxed a fraction. "An acquaintance of Valentine's."

"That doesn't mean anything. Man's a detective, he has a lot of those."

"Someone Kleo tried to kill today."

"Oh ho ho!" The Mayor let out a laugh that sounded like rocks falling over a cliff. "So you're the reason she's got my town swarming with men. What'd you do to piss her off."

"Agreed to a job. She betrayed my companion and I."

"What's this then? Payback?"

A bit. "I won't let her try again."

"So you attack my town to get back at her. It's my men you killed in there."

I didn't respond immediately. There wasn't much to say to that. Though…

"The bomb was her's."

"I guessed as much", Hancock replied, this time sounding both tired and irritated. "But that doesn't change anything. You killed my guys and are the reason she blew up my market. I'm not in the business of letting people get away with that. Makes us look like pushovers, you know?"

"I don't care about your reputation. As long as you aren't hiding Kleo, I'm willing to walk away."

The mayor laughed again. "You aren't in a position to negotiate tin man, even with that fancy armor."

It isn't just the armor.

"I have no intention of surrendering to you."

Someone else near Hancock began talking, too low for me to make out any words. After whoever it was had finished, the mayor hesitated a moment before responding. "So, what, you're saying you can take all my guys when they've got you under the gun?"

"I'm saying you don't have to find out."

"And if we want to?"

Why would you want to? This is why I don't do politics; what the hell is this guy talking about?

Patience was running very thin. My right arm tensed, ready to reach for my handgun. The knife wasn't going to start deflagration, but the most important part of any fight was the first five seconds. If I didn't take any guards out of the picture, only able to dodge away with my knife, it would put me in a compromised position.

But was firing in here a good idea? The mixture of dust was undoubtedly combustible, but it wouldn't 'explode' in the traditional sense. Deflagration essentially creates a fireball. The issue for most people is they aren't protected by damn near indestructible armor, and even if they survive, the combustion would burn all of the oxygen in the lobby. Then if the few dozen people at my feet survive being suffocated too, the vacuum created by the fireball would kill them.

If Hancock made it necessary, it wasn't my fault he got even more of his people killed.

Maybe I can use that.

What?

If he starts this fight, it's going to end with all of these people dying, and anyone close enough to the open windows for that matter. If he does care about his people, I can use that. But if I'm going to do this, I need to sell it.

I made a show of looking around the lobby. "Most of the dust in here is probably wood or gunpowder. Those burn very well."

"What's your point?"

"Any gunfire is going to start a deflagration."

"A what?"

He doesn't know what a deflagration is? Do these people know anything about combat?

"Another bomb."

The mayor hesitated again. "How?"

Holy shit. "I'm not here for a physics lesson. You let me go, you don't have to find that out either."

"I'm just supposed to let you go after what's happened", the mayor spat back.

"Only if you don't want it to get worse."

"I don't like how you think you call the shots guy."

My patience was at its end. I was only a few meters outside of the assaultron's storefront. The dust and debris in there was thick enough to prevent the combustion from pushing too far inside. The only question was if Kleo had another exit.

She had to. The Assaultron was clearly well prepared for my assassination attempt. Anyone with the forethought to rig their own property to blow is going to have more than one escape plan.

I turned my head just enough to see back into the shop. "I don't call the shots, I'm just telling you what's going to happen."

Another pause. I again heard muttering behind the beam pouring light through the lobby's main entrance.

"Say, tin man, how do you know Valentine?"

My eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You said you're a friend of that old broken down private eye. How'd you meet him?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Well." Another short pause. "One of my guys here told me someone wiped out most of Skinny Malone's crew to break him out of that Vault of theirs. Set that bastard back years and scared the shit outta him. Rumor has it whoever it was had on some fancy looking armor. That you?"

That wasn't hard to piece together.

"Yes."

A short low laugh. "And you're saying you're gonna do the same here if we don't let you walk."

"Yes."

"Well damn boys", Hancock said, his voice almost amused again, "we got ourselves a goddamn celebrity here. Took Skinny out of the picture for a few years, managed to get past all our guys, and scared Kleo so bad she blew her own shop trying to kill him. Maybe we oughta take him at his word."

There was more muttering behind the spotlight, this time a half dozen voices that sounded like they were arguing.

"Okay tin man, one more question. You got anything against us? You did attack my guards. I need to know what your play is."

"I'm after Kleo. Your people were in my way."

"Huh. If we met another time, I would offer you a job."

That's nice. "Well?"

"Kleo's gone. Don't know where she is, but you're gonna leave now, and if you ever set foot in Goodneighbor again, you'll see how hard we can fight."

"Understood." Unless she comes back. That robot wants me dead, I don't give people another chance.

"Good." The floodlight shut off, plunging the lobby back into darkness. My visor cleared and I watched the citizens and guards groggily finding their feet. Outside the building were another dozen guards, most of them with their weapons still trained on me.

Standing in the center was a Ghoul. Didn't Nate say Hancock was a Ghoul? He was the first one I'd seen that didn't attack on sight. Besides the actual clothes he was wearing: a large red overcoat with a tattered button up shirt, black pants, boots and an odd looking hat, he looked the same as the Ferals I'd fought before. The pockmarked skin, sunken eyes, and burnt off nose were all what I'd come to expect from them. The lopsided, borderline amused smile was not.

"Stay there until we get these people cleared out", he shouted over the grown din in his odd, gravelly voice. "Once we've got things under control, these boys will walk you out."

It took 15 minutes or so to get everyone out of the lobby. I stepped back into the destroyed storefront to both get out of the way, and more importantly give myself a modicum of cover in case one of the guards lost their nerve. Their faces remained impassive, but the half dozen guards that remained outside the market's entrance watching me stared uncomfortably .

The sudden change must have been a combination of that and fear. They didn't know what would happen if I engaged, they just knew I'd killed most of the Triggermen. That made them afraid.

Guess I've already started building a reputation.

X

As I climbed the tower's service staircase back to the floor Nate was (hopefully) still waiting, an odd combination of irritation and satisfaction danced through the back of my head.

Kleo had escaped. That was irritating.

But I finally found someone smart enough to survive. Sure, she hadn't engaged me directly, but the Assaultron was prudent and disciplined enough to have precautions in place that, against anyone else, would have killed them. She made sure she wasn't in the line of fire, now has intel on me, and can better prepare for my next assault (or her next attempt on us).

Then I was irritated again for not seeing that coming. I've gotten lazy. Maybe it's because of my time with Fourier's squad, running more conventional (at least for me) operations. Maybe it's because I've gotten used to the minimal effort I've had to put into fighting while here. Maybe my head still isn't on straight. Whatever the case, I needed to get back to being me.

I reached the door leading to the tenth floor and gave it three pounds. After a few seconds, two came back from somewhere behind it.

At least that went right.

Inside, I did a quick scan of the expansive room, destroyed furniture scattered the same way it had been when I left, but no sign of Nate. I felt his eyes though. Rustling from the ceiling caught my attention and I instinctively switched my display to NV. As I did, I caught a glimpse of a rifle barrel hidden just inside one of the many holes in the ceiling.

My mind pulled in two different directions: I knew that was probably Nate, but my head was still screaming at me to move. The instincts that had kept me alive for the past 15 years won the fight, and I dove to the side, bringing my handgun up as I came out of my role.

"Whoa", Nate's voice came from above, more than a little alarmed, "slow down, I don't need to get shot again today." I lowered my pistol and stood. After a few seconds I heard him mutter, "especially in the head."

A moment later, he had dropped down from the ceiling and ambled over to me, a small smile on his face. "Good spot huh?"

The position was risky, he would be a sitter if more than two or three people came calling, but considering the circumstances, it wasn't bad. If I'd been using NVS, I would have noticed it almost immediately.

"Yes."

"That didn't sound very sincere", my companion replied, frowning now.

I shrugged. His tactical decisions weren't what I had on my mind.

"You seem irritated."

"Kleo wasn't there."

The ex-soldier paused. He looked concerned, but I couldn't tell what he was worried about.

"So... what happened?"

"Got to her store, she wasn't there. Blew the market when I killed her men."

His eyes widened. "She blew the market? How many people did she kill?"

"None. A few died in the crossfire before. I killed some guards though. We can't go back."

"You killed Goodneighbor guards", Nate asked, anger sharpening his voice. "Why?"

Why did I kill their guards? To get in. It was obvious, and he knew it. More than that, I wasn't going to stand here and be interrogated by the man.

"I'm not justifying my decisions to you. It's safer to stay here for the night than go back to Diamond City."

"You aren't-" The ex-soldier took a deep breath. "You do understand Diamond City and Goodneighbor have a lot of ties, right? If we aren't allowed back at Goodneighbor, we may not be able to get into Diamond City anymore either."

That's something I thought about on my way back; it might be an issue short term, but it was something I could deal with. "Yes."

"So why did you attack their guards? Were they with Kleo?"

I was already irritated, his pestering only exacerbated it. I had screwed the pooch. Maybe not in the way he was upset about, but I needed to be better. The guards were between me and a target, but it was a target I should have known wouldn't be there. If I'm this sloppy when I, inevitably, have to deal with the Brotherhood, it's going to get me killed.

And the thought that my own ineptitude might get me killed pissed me off.

"No."

Making mistakes was something I worked even harder to stamp out than Katrina or Mendez. At the range, hand to hand drills, CQC practice, survival training… everything. Once, after one of the 'real life sims' where I was lucky to not get airlifted out, I snuck into the temporary base's supply building, stole provisions for two weeks, and hiked almost 80 klicks away. More than once, I pushed so hard to get something right in hand to hand, I ended up in the infirmary. It got to the point that they had to slow me down prior to my augmentation procedures.

It may have been different for the first few years of real combat, but mistakes are something I don't make anymore. I was making them now, and the idea that I didn't know exactly why was almost as aggravating as making the mistakes themselves.

But why was I so aggravated. Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, it could have gotten me killed. That didn't make me this upset though.

I brushed past the ex-soldier, heading toward the center of the room. The smaller man grabbed my arm, but I barely noticed him as I pulled free.

"Look", he hissed, "you can't just-"

I turned on Nate as my temper flared. "Enough." My voice was low, partially from habit, but mostly because I could feel anger boil just below the surface. For once, it wasn't Nate's doing, but he was going to turn into its focus if he kept going.

The ex-soldier fell quiet. He clearly wanted to argue, but there was an understanding in his eyes. There was fear too. An all too familiar fear that, up until recently, I saw in his eyes every time he looked at me.

It didn't mean anything, normally.

But now… it didn't hurt, but it was bitter. The understanding though, that was new.

I didn't know what to do with it. I didn't know what to do with his understanding or the discomfort teasing at the back of my mind. Or the images of the dead civilians laying in the market.

Or that young guard's face after I killed there rest of his team.

So instead of thinking about that, I went back to what I know: what I need to do better next time. I turned away from Nate and trudged toward the room's center. I should probably get some sleep, I hadn't gotten any since the day prior. And I needed some time to sort this mess out.

Notes:

I know, it wasn't a very big twist, but oh well. Our SPARTAN friend is asking a lot of questions he's avoided up until now, and it's all pretty uncomfortable for him. I hope I'm making that clear enough, but if not... well that's what reviews are for. That's all for this chapter, I will be posting a chapter each week for the foreseeable future from now on. The next one will be relatively short and there's a reason for that, but I'll talk about that when it happens. Have a good weekend!

Chapter 13: Trust is a Funny Thing

Notes:

Hello and welcome back to the province where strange, and maybe a bit insane, stories pop out of the disturbed imaginations of writers here! Like I said, this one is on the short side, but I wanted to close out the events of the last two chapters and transition into the next. I thought about making it one long chapter (it would have been about 20k words), but decided to go with this. I enjoy posting each week so I plan on continuing to do so for the foreseeable future. Anyways, enjoy a bit more action and as always, let me know what you think!

Sleep. Funny.

I sat, back against the wall opposite the service staircase, remains of my sniper rifle on the floor in front of me. The barrel, somehow, didn't bend when I landed on it. The bolt still slid smoothly and locked into battery, and the trigger group, hammer, and firing pin all seemed to be on speaking terms. I wouldn't know for sure until I had a chance to fire it, but it looked functional, I would just need a new stock.

The weapon would probably be fine, but that wasn't my concern.

We shouldn't be in this position. Period.

I made a mistake at every step of the way. I shouldn't have accepted the job, consequences from Kleo be damned. I should have turned around the moment I got uncomfortable with that route. I shouldn't have ever rejoined it on the way back. I should have known the Assaultron wouldn't be in her storefront.

It was an odd feeling. I looked over at the ex-soldier, similarly propped against an adjacent wall, sleeping. The ODST's- I hadn't felt guilty about the ones that died. We were there to do a job, sometimes people die. Working with Fourier's squad, we ran a dozen operations without losing anyone. Hell, we didn't have any major injuries. Now though, Nate relied on me. He relied on me in a way no one had when I was operating alone, in a way Fourier's squad never did, even once I was on point.

And I fucked up.

Outside of his blood encrusted jacket and pants, there was no evidence of the gunshot, but knowing my mistakes had almost gotten someone else killed… It was different. I was upset my mistakes put me in the middle of three different ambushes. That wasn't something that had happened in a while, but it wasn't new either. This time I dragged someone with me. Something about it put a deep pit in my stomach.

The feeling was… incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn't something I wanted again.

As with every botched mission, I sat for hours, playing the events back in my head, redoing it to see how it could have been done differently. The problem here is there wasn't anything to do differently besides not doing it. My mistake wasn't a tactical one, it was the choice to be involved in the first place.

That was new too.

By the time the sky began to glow the dull grey of pre-dawn, I had managed to push the accompanying emotions away. There was only one thing I needed to worry about in this situation: killing Kleo before she had a chance to try to kill us again. That presented its own issues, but I would have to table it for now. The Brotherhood will be calling, and that was an entirely different disaster in waiting.

Eventually my body couldn't sit still any longer. I slung what was left of my only remaining rifle and stood. The ex-soldier had barely moved since he fell asleep. If it wasn't for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, I might have thought he was dead.

I paced to the bank of windows overlooking the building's entrance. The last week had been a cascade of old memories and new emotions, but at the end of everything, I still had my duty. I still have to do everything I can to get back to the UNSC.

But the question wasn't only 'how' anymore. It was 'why'. That wasn't something I'd ever asked before. I chose to join the SPARTAN III program, and where I am now- it was just the logical continuation of that decision. Well… minus the alternate reality part of the equation. A few days ago, my answer was 'because I wanted revenge'. That's probably still true, but that begs the question: why have I spent most of my time fighting Insurrectionists instead of the Covenant?

Functionally, that was an easy answer: because ONI pointed me at them. As far as my own justification goes… I was ordered to.

Then is revenge really my reason for doing what I do? Do I have one?

I don't know.

Irritation flushed my mind once again. This is why I don't like having time to think. It never leads anywhere good. My job right now is to get back to the UNSC. Everything else was just noise.

A quiet crunch came from the staircase a few floors below.

That had my undivided attention. Not only to get my mind off of the never ending loop of questions I was asking myself, but because it was too distinct to be anything other than a footstep.

How had someone managed to get in the building without making any sound?

I may have been lost in my own head, but I was still attentive for any potential intruders.

Nothing else followed. Whoever was climbing the staircase was doing so as quietly as possible. They were hunting us.

I slipped over to the ex-soldier and knelt to tap him on the shoulder.

The smaller man woke with a start, eyes wide, and opened his mouth to say something. I clamped a gauntleted hand over it and held my other index finger over where my mouth would be.

It took a moment for his breathing to return to normal, but eventually he nodded and I lowered my hand. I motioned my head toward the service staircase door. He looked at the exit and back to me before offering his rifle. I shook my head. I want a little up close and personal time with whoever managed to follow me.

Who knows, maybe it will make me feel better.

As much as I wanted to be even more annoyed as I crept back to the door, it wasn't a surprise someone managed to track us. It would have been almost impossible for someone to follow me from Goodneighbor without me noticing. Constant paranoia of being followed during my solo operations led to habits to ensure it wouldn't happen. Taking paths too difficult for the average person, keeping a pace quick enough to leave anyone else behind, and constant random detours and backtracks to catch any lucky (or unlucky) pursuers. But with enough people, and enough time, any reasonably well organized force would be able to identify a hiding spot. It's why I don't usually use the same place more than once.

I reached the emergency exit and crouched off to the side to wait.

What these people didn't know, is they were hand delivering an opportunity. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were probably Kleo's people (I doubt Hancock was stupid enough to send people after me; if he wanted a fight, he would have taken it while he had me surrounded).

Despite their best efforts, the attackers became more audible the closer they got to our floor. Sometimes, there were things even the most experienced combatants couldn't overcome.

It was impossible to tell how many distinct footsteps there were, but I could guess at least 5 or 6 people were climbing the stairs.

My body tensed as I listened to them gathering outside of the door. Whoever they were, they were using fairly common timing, attacking just before dawn, and tactics. But they were common for a reason: they were effective. The problem for them was it meant there were plenty of tactics developed as countermeasures.

I slipped my knife from its sheath as they all stilled on the opposite side of the door.

3… 2… 1…

An explosive bang sounded as the latch was blown out of the door, probably by a shotgun. One of the men kicked the ruined door open. I was behind it now as the first attacker burst through and began clearing the far side of the floor. I waited a beat as the second man into the room turned around the door. He was the first to go.

My target was dead before he had a chance to register it. I uncoiled my legs, launching myself into the attacker. In the next instant, my knife was buried in the underside of his chin, through his neck and severed the man's brainstem.

The momentum carried me through the door, slamming it closed on a third man, and into the back of the first. The body, the surviving man, and I tumbled to the ground. I landed on him with a wet crunch and he screamed as 450 kilograms crushed his left arm and ribcage.

Scrambling came from the doorway as I rolled to my feet. I jumped away from the opening as a barrage of automatic gunfire tore through the door and into the two dead men on the floor where I had been an instant prior.

And now they were panicking, it was my turn.

Just as the gunfire stopped, I stepped forward and straight kicked the door. Since it opened inward, it squealed against its steel frame as it deformed into an odd, almost conical shape. The hinges reached their breaking point and the bullet riddled door exploded into the staircase, crashing into whoever was on the other side. I tore through the now vacant frame after it.

There were two men to my right on the flight of stairs leading down to the next floor, covering the door in case something like this happened. Three others had been caught by the door and were laying sprawled across the landing. These people were certainly prepared. But they were also too close. The two men covering for a counter should have been down on the landing below. They were near enough that, before either could fire, I was able to drive my knife through the side of one man's head. The already dead body slammed into the wall as other hurried to adjust his aim.

The second man screamed as I dropped into a low crouch, under his burst of gunfire, and swept my left leg through his hard enough to buckle one of his knees. He held onto the trigger as he collapsed and emptied the magazine into the ceiling, raining concrete on himself.

As he hit the ground, I twisted away from a burst of gunfire that skimmed off my shields and into the wall behind me. The offending attacker was laying on the ground, firing his rifle almost straight up. I stomped on his left forearm and the limb turned into a bloody paste. He didn't have a chance to scream before he went into shock.

The remaining two were still groggily struggling to extricate themselves from the door turned impromptu projectile.

I pulled the handgun from my hip and leveled it at one of them, a sturdy looking woman.

"Stop", I barked.

They struggled for a moment longer before doing their best to hold their hands up from under the heavy steel door.

I had four survivors.

That would work. I glanced at the man on the floor who's arm I'd crushed. He was unconscious from the pain.

Three useful ones.

I turned my gaze back to the relatively unharmed two.

"I'm going to move the door. You're going to put your weapons down and stay there until I say otherwise. Understood?"

They both nodded after a moment's hesitation.

"Clear", I called back through the door.

Nate's footsteps preceded a quick stumble and a loud 'what the fuck'.

He reached the door a moment later. My aim stayed fixed on the two pinned attackers as I moved to the side to give the ex-soldier a clear sightline. It was difficult to tell if there would be others. These people used decent tactics, so there may have been a support squad somewhere in the staircase. Best to do this quickly.

"Keep them there."

"... Sure."

I stepped over the assailant with my knife in his head and pulled the rifle away from the wide eyed crippled man who was still trying to shoot at me with the empty weapon. I grabbed him by the front of his green combat armor and pulled him up the stairs. On the way, I ripped my knife from the dead man's temple and dragged my captive through the door.

Once I leaned him up against the adjacent wall, I began stripping his sidearm and a knife. He stared at me with a combination of anger and fear with a healthy dose of agony the whole while.

After dragging the unconscious man, minus his left forearm and hand, and trailing blood, next to the other, I returned to pull the door off of the remaining two attackers.

Nate remained silent throughout the process, eyes carefully fixed on the duo. It was a little too deliberate.

A minute later, they too were seated against the wall with their wounded squadmates. The woman's eyes were glued to my visor. They burned with hatred. The other one, a tall and slender man who had gone pale, was fixated on my first two victims, the first with the massive gash through his throat, and the other who's armor and torso were crushed when I landed on him.

The ex-soldier was standing guard at the door in case there was support coming. It was unlikely at this point, but I wasn't going to get caught off guard again.

I was standing over the man who's right leg was twisted at an extremely unnatural angle. His face had gone starch white to match the star painted in the center of his olive drab hard combat armor.

"Who are you?"

The crippled man glanced from the woman to his right and back. "Wha- what?"

I pulled my knife back out.

"You get one more chance. Name, affiliation."

The attacker looked back at the woman who was probably their team lead. "I'm- I don't-"

He pushed his back into the wall as I crouched in front of him.

"Please…" he whimpered.

The man shrieked as I drove my knife into his destroyed leg, just above the knee. I was careful to miss his femoral artery, no point in having him bleed out yet, and pulled the blade back out.

As he was crying in pain, I stood and moved to the woman who was still trying to kill me with her stare.

"Name and affiliation."

She remained silent, glaring daggers at me.

I knelt again.

"Name and affiliation."

The team leader spat into my visor. As I reached up to wipe the saliva away, she pulled a knife from beneath her armor and swung for my neck. I swatted the attack away and responded by burying mine in her stomach, just below her hard plate. The woman groaned, but still tried to kick me away.

I obliged.

As I stood, I pulled my knife from the team lead's abdomen and blood began spurting from the inch wide gash. She swore and grasped for the wound.

Standing in front of the final conscious man, I spun my knife in front of him, some of his squadmates' blood dripping onto his face and chest.

"Name and affiliation."

"Don't you say a fuckin thing", the woman moaned, still trying to stop the blood pouring out of her stomach.

"She just took your first chance."

"I can't-"

"I know this story."

"No", the man pleaded, "please. Look, we were hired. We don't know who you are. We were just paid and told where you were hiding."

I cocked my head. Kleo is afraid to use her men to do this. Robots get scared huh?

"Who do you work for?"

The bleeding woman hit him. "If you say anything else…"

My current mark looked from her to me and back.

"Why not? This isn't what we signed up for. And it isn't like who we are is a secret."

"Yeah well, he clearly doesn't know." The woman motioned at me, weakly.

Sometimes interrogations are knowing when to let people talk. They'd already given me useful information: the squad was from a well known mercenary group hired by Kleo to ambush us. Again.

"Gunners."

Both stopped arguing and looked at me.

A mix of thoughts ran through my head as they did. On one hand, I didn't have anything against the group in particular. On the other, these are the people who attacked Preston's group and drove them out of- what was the town? Quincy? I didn't like mercenaries to begin with, the idea that someone fought a war to get rich. Take any job from anyone willing to pay enough. I might be a paragon of morality, but it didn't sit right with me.

The only uninjured mercenary slowly nodded. "Yes…"

"Kleo, the Assaultron who ran Guns Guns Guns in Goodneighbor hired you to kill him and I." I motioned at Nate, still standing guard.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is?"

"No, we're just given marching orders. That's all."

I nodded. Compartmentalization. If they couldn't get that right, they wouldn't have been around long enough to gain a reputation. They'd given me all I needed anyways. I know where to find one of their bases. It might have people who can give me more information than these four.

As I was about to finish up, I heard Nate approach from behind.

"Before you kill them", the ex-soldier spat as he drew even with me, "can I suggest something?"

This again? "What?" My tone was more clipped than it needed to be, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to him beg for the lives of people who tried to kill us a few minutes ago.

"Use them as a peace offering."

"A peace offering." Why would I offer them anything after they attacked me?

"Yes. It's better than having yet another group pissed off at us, especially right now." The smaller man's voice was equally sharp. It wasn't the same anger as before, but he still didn't back down. He glanced at the crippled man, holding the wound above his destroyed knee, still moaning, and the unconscious mercenary on the floor in front of him, missing his lower left arm. "And you may be able to get more information from them a little less… painfully."

"Clint ain't telling you guys shit." The wounded team lead still had blood seeping through her fingers and soaking her pants as she looked up at me, trying to glare daggers through my faceplate.

"Well", Nate said matter of factly, "the other option is he does the same thing to whoever Clint is."

"Quincy?" She let out a weak laugh, face already beginning to pale. "You'd get butchered."

"No. But that doesn't have to happen. If we can get the information we need about Kleo, we wouldn't have any reason to come after you."

I haven't committed to that.

"And think about it. She just paid you to come after this guy", Nate motioned at me, "without telling you he'd just fought his way through Goodneighbor to her storefront, and killed the men she had there to ambush him."

"I don't-"

"Kleo fucked you over." The smaller man's voice was quiet, but firm. "She knew you wouldn't kill him, she was just using you to send us a message."

The uninjured man raised his eyebrows. "And you know this how?"

"She tried to kill us twice yesterday, and lost people both times. That's why she hired you instead."

The two still cognizant mercenaries looked the ex-soldier over, clearly taking in his torn and blood soaked shirt and pants. Nate was using essentially the same strategy I had back in Goodneighbor, just on a more… personal level. I didn't see any reason to keep these mercenaries in particular alive, but it was an interesting prospect.

That didn't mean I liked it. These people are the definition of a wild card: they didn't care who they fought for, just as long as they got paid.

And I might be able to use that. They probably wouldn't be a threat to the Brotherhood, but as a diversion…

I need to focus on one problem at a time.

"So… you wa- want", the team lead stammered before falling silent. By this point she was sweating enough to drip from her chin and turn her hair into a matted mess. Blood pooled on the ground beneath her, spreading across the broken, rubble covered floor. The uninjured man turned to her just as she began wavering. A moment later, the woman collapsed into his lap.

Nate slipped his satchel off and yanked it open. "Son of a bitch." He pulled a Stimpak from the bag, but I stepped in front of him.

"She's dying", the ex-soldier shouted.

"She's lost too much blood."

"You don't know-"

"I hit her liver and pancreas. She's going to die." My temper began to rise once again. Don't put yourself in danger for no goddamn reason.

"Samantha", the other mercenary called, cradling the now unconscious woman's head, "c'mon girl." His voice was on the verge of breaking. "Albert's gonna be pissed if I don't bring you home." He looked up at me, pleadingly. "You gotta do something for her. Please."

"Move!" The ex-soldier tried to edge around me, but I grabbed him by the shoulder and shove him back. It was harder than necessary, hard enough to make the smaller man stumble and almost topple to the ground, but I wasn't going to do this again.

"She is going to die."

The ex-soldier regained his balance and tensed. I knew this would happen: the moment things get messy again, he turns back to pleading for the enemy's lives.

"And you're okay with letting that happen", he shouted. "You're the one who stabbed her. A disarmed prisoner."

I blinked. Yes she's a disarmed prisoner, now. A few minutes ago she would have put a bullet in you without a second thought. At this point it was less about him trying to save the team lead, her breath was already rattling, but his care for someone who wouldn't have offered him the same.

"She was going to kill you."

"So what? She wasn't a threat anymore."

"Sam!" The uninjured man was gently shaking her. "You have to help her!"

"I'm going to give her a Stimpak", Nate said, his voice the same cold, detached drone as when we'd first arrived at Diamond City.

Part of me… a very quiet one, told me to let it go. He wanted to help, even if it was pointless. The mixture of anger and determination wasn't a surprise; it was his worry that caught me off guard.

Whatever.

I stepped out of the way and pulled my sidearm from its mag clamps.

"Go."

The ex-soldier glanced at the handgun. He knew I wasn't going to shoot him, but he still hesitated.

And that did hurt.

"Go", I repeated, louder.

Nate paused a heartbeat longer before hurrying past me to kneel next to the dying woman and her pool of blood.

I watched him administer the mystery drug, handgun ready to shoot the other mercenary if he did anything stupid.

"She was going to kill you."

"So what? She wasn't a threat anymore."

How does that justify trying to save her now? Just because she couldn't kill him anymore, doesn't mean she wouldn't have. And does that excuse her original intent?

More thoughts raced through my mind as I watched their fruitless attempt to save the team lead. The bleeding slowed to a stop, but It didn't take more than a few minutes for her breathing to follow suit. The other man kept stroking her hair, crying, calling her name while Nate hung his head, trembling. Even the mercenary who was preoccupied with his own destroyed leg stared at the now dead woman, mouth agape.

After a minute or so of collective grieving, Nate stood. I couldn't see his face, but the ex-soldier was stiff and motionless.

"Do you have a radio", he asked, voice barely a whisper.

The mercenary looked up from the dead woman, eyes brimming with tears. "What?"

"We'll let you go back, just don't come after us. Please." The ex-soldier sounded like he was pleading.

"Yeah… I have one. It's back in the staircase."

Let them go back? As I was about to respond, Nate turned to me. His expression wasn't the fury I expected. It was deep, painful sorrow.

"What will killing them do at this point? If we can keep the Gunners from coming after us again, it's worth it."

Something odd mixed with the irritation pooling at the back of my head. It was something like unease… but not quite. I glanced from my companion to the weeping man sitting on the floor, head of his squadmate cradled in his lap.

What was I supposed to do here? Killing other humans, with a few exceptions, had never been anything more than a job. If I was ordered to, that's what I did. He did the same thing when he served. So what makes these people any different? Why should I make an exception for them?

What Nate is saying makes sense: give the Gunners these people back alive in exchange for a cease fire. One less problem to worry about for now.

"Fine."

The ex-soldier dipped his head in thanks before walking past me toward the staircase to retrieve the squad's radio.

Why was he upset?

The smaller man walked beside me through Diamond City's rear gate (apparently they hadn't gotten word of what I'd done the night before), silently. He hadn't said a word since he negotiated his agreement with an extremely angry sounding man on the other end. But this time was different; on the way back from the Vault after rescuing Valentine, Nate had radiated fear and anger. This time it was sadness. I felt him glance at me every so often, but the ex-soldier carefully avoided my gaze.

What is he thinking? Why isn't he angry this time?

With nowhere else to go, we made our way back to Valentine's office. I scavenged another rifle from one of the first two men I'd killed. This one was chambered in 7.62x51mm. It had a 508mm barrel, polymer furniture, an aggressive muzzle brake, and a 20 round magazine, which was a tradeoff, but worth it for the extra energy and armor penetration. It was loaded with regular full metal jacket, and the mercenary had five spare magazines on him. They weren't armor piercing, but they were still a substantial upgrade over 5.56.

By the time we returned to the small shack tucked away in one of Diamond City's many side alleys, it was just past 1100.

The Brotherhood would be here any time.

Nate stopped just as we reached the front of the door, staring at the ground between his feet. "Look Damon… I just-" He paused and looked up at me. "Thank you for letting them go."

I didn't know how to respond. Logically, the choice made sense, but it wasn't one I would normally make.

The ex-soldier didn't wait for a reply though. He walked past me and pounded on my left pauldron with the side of a closed fist. "I get it. I really do."

What does he mean "I get it"? I squinted at the smaller man as I followed him inside. I wanted to ask, but at the same time I wanted to figure it out on my own. Did it have something to do with knowing at least some of my past?

We sat in silence, me against the wall, him behind Perkins' desk, for the better part of half an hour. I disassembled and reassembled my new rifle a few times to make sure I knew it well enough to do by memory, and that everything was in working order. The ex-soldier… he leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed, but his breathing never settled into the deep, rhythmic pattern of sleep.

What did he mean? What does he get? It probably has something to do with why he's upset instead of angry this time. Besides knowing about the attack, about the war, what's different? Or is that all? Is that why his attitude has changed so much?

Inevitably, my thoughts drifted back to Kleo. I doubt she would try anything any time soon. The Assaultron was intelligent, she knew we would be on guard and, after learning of the Gunners' failure, she would be hesitant to commit any more resources to hunting us.

Oddly enough, our (soon to be) arrangement with the Brotherhood would probably provide a bit more breathing room. If she knew attacking us meant the Brotherhood would be on her ass, the robot would be a lot less likely to come after us again. Unfortunately that also meant she would go to ground and, without the necessary resources, finding her would be damn near impossible. The thought of interrogating the Gunners crossed my mind, but if I were in Kleo's position, I wouldn't risk making physical contact with them, so they won't know where she might be.

Whatever came next, I wouldn't make the same mistakes. Next time I went after her, I'd kill that goddamn robot.

I ran through a dozen scenarios, trying to figure out some way to track Kleo down with extremely limited resources and information. Best bet would be to find someone in Goodneighbor either on her payroll or who knows someone who is. Problem with that is I'm not allowed there anymore.

And then the pounding of Vertibird props came flooding through the thin wooden walls of the detective's office.

Here we go.

I stood and, a few seconds later as the concussion grew loud enough for Nate to notice, the ex-soldier's eyes snapped open. He looked at me, half grimacing.

"This should be interesting."

I nodded.

"We should leave before it turns into a shitstorm again."

"Agreed."

We left the office and, to avoid the mess that would be the marketplace, used the exit opposite of the parking and circled the outside of the stadium. The beating props were close enough by the time we reached the parking lot that I could feel their concussion through my armor.

There were more than last time.

Every instinct I had was screaming at me to stop, turn around and leave. Not only was I offering myself up to an outside party, yet again, but I was going to join a pseudo military outfit that, had this been a few weeks ago, I'd be exterminating.

And I would be enjoying it.

Five Vertibirds emerged from behind the destroyed skyline and began their approach toward the stadium.

"We won't be able to come back here if the Brotherhood keeps showing up like this", Nate shouted over the pounding rotors. The prop wash was beginning to kick up dust and dirt again.

I shrugged, eyes locked on the approaching aircraft. Coming back here wasn't important unless we needed someone in the city to get to the Institute. The only people who had proven helpful were Valentine and Perkins, but they weren't there at the moment. That was the least of my concerns in any case; there was always the possibility they would renege on their end of this arrangement. If that was the case, there wasn't much chance of Nate living past the next few minutes.

Hell, my own odds wouldn't be very good.

That's what I hated about this the most: this situation was completely out of my control. Of course if they decided to fight, I'd make them regret that, but I had no input on when or where that might happen. The best way to win an engagement is to control it. There will always be factors that you can't account for, but the more you do, the better your odds.

The only thing I can account for here is my direct actions. That isn't something I'm comfortable with.

Three of the Vertibirds settled to the broken, rubble strewn pavement. This time a half dozen men dressed in their odd, primitive power armor disembarked as soon as their wheels touched down. They fanned out around us and I felt Nate tense as I checked my own impulse to snatch my new rifle and engage.

Once the Brotherhood soldiers had formed a perimeter another pair emerged from the center aircraft. One was Marsaul, still not wearing a helmet. The other looked identical to the men surrounding us. Another guard? No, that wouldn't make sense. This is another high ranking member of the militia.

The two soldiers stopped 10 meters away. I couldn't see the helmeted man's face, but Marsaul looked apprehensive.

"So what is your answer", he called over the multitude of beating props.

Nate took a step forward, eyeing the half dozen guns pointed mostly at me. "We accept." It was hard to tell over the flood of buffeting air, but the ex-soldier sounded… anxious. Was he more worried about this arrangement than he was letting on? That was good, he should be.

"Good", the helmeted Brotherhood soldier called. "Follow us." It took a moment to place the voice, but as the two armored men turned back to the waiting Vertibirds, it clicked: the other was Danse.

My companion began after them and I followed a heartbeat later. Every step I took toward the VTOLs was a step away from the world I know. I'd already been operating on the edge of my SOP since I woke up on that damn hill. I'd crossed the line plenty, but it was either close enough I could still use my standard skillset or for a short enough time it didn't matter. Escort Preston's group to Sanctuary to get information, escort Nate to Diamond City so I could get a lead on the Institute, those were outside my normal parameters, but not far enough my knowledge wasn't applicable. Rescuing Valentine from the Triggermen, hunting down Kellogg, hell, even my retaliation against Kleo, as misguided as that was, were all well within my operational scope.

This isn't.

Cooperating with the Brotherhood of Steel, any large organization really, isn't what I do. Playing politics is something I leave to people with an interest in wasting time. Add their fundamentalism…

My only option now is to trust Nate.

Trust Nate.

Huh. What did Fourier say about that?

Notes:

And it's time for the Brotherhood of Steel. Now, this part of the story got more complicated than I originally thought it would... If you haven't realized yet, I'm one for leaving the suspension of disbelief at home, and obviously this type of story is already stretching that. As much fun as it would be to have Damon massacre the BOS, and as much damage as he could do without time/resources to prepare, he isn't invincible. On top of that, the story of FO4 is a bit... simplistic. The politics and planning that would have to go into a situation like this aren't as basic as that game is (I think NV actually does a fantastic job of getting into that without losing the plot). That will get a bit clearer in the next chapter, but worry not, I don't intend for this to get bogged down with boring shit like politics. There is plenty of shooting (and some more... gruesome action) ahead of us.

Chapter 14: A Grim Reminder

Notes:

Hello all and welcome back to the latest episode of our duo's journey. You know, to be completely honest, when I started writing this I intended for it to be a story focused around Damon and his journey, both physically and emotionally, but a lot of the other characters in this to facilitate that have come to be very important to me personally. Obviously Nate has a significant role to play in Damon's story, but in turn Damon has taken a significant role in his as well. Without spoiling anything, this chapter has a few characters that impact our favorite (or at least my favorite aside from the MC because... well he's the Master Chief bitch) SPARTAN in a way that I didn't expect, and will grow into important characters in their own way. There will be others down the road as well, but I just thought I'd share how this story has been changing for me, and I hope they're just as important for you all as well. Anyways, that's enough of that, on to the chapter. As always, let me know what you all think, and enjoy!

Turning my sniper rifle into the Brotherhood Quartermaster, a shorter man in his late fifties with a salt and pepper goatee, was the most frustrating experience I've ever had at a gun cage.

While flying over the destroyed city once again, I couldn't take my eyes off the Brotherhood airship, apparently they named the Prydwen. It slowly resolved from a dot in the distance, hovering over the remains of Boston's airport, into the massive aircraft, dozens of other Vertibirds swarming around it.

Once we docked, Danse, Marsaul and our half dozen guards escorted us directly to a hangar below the command deck. Maxson didn't greet us this time.

I can't say the thought of killing him didn't cross my mind if he had.

Maybe it was my uncertainty with the situation, my brain trying to reel it back into a world I understand. Maybe it was because their mix of militancy and fundamentalism put a deep pit in my stomach. Even though I knew, intellectually, killing him would only cause more problems, I couldn't get the thought out of my head.

The hangar seemed to span the length of the ship, with what had to be over a hundred Brotherhood members. They were all working on equipment, including a few dozen suits of their power armor, or suiting up.

As we entered, a red haired woman greeted us, introducing herself as Proctor Ingram. She was in what looked like a powered frame, her legs missing from the knee down. The woman did her best to hide it, but the Proctor's eyes betrayed her curiosity. Even when she was speaking with Nate, who had taken it upon himself to do all of the talking (thankfully), her eyes would dart back to me periodically.

I felt exposed.

These people weren't my allies. Soon enough they'd be my enemy, and my body never let me forget that. I was so tense, as my eyes and ears took in as much of the bustling hangar as they could, it would be impossible for the men escorting us to miss. There were too many people, too many risks, and if something did happen, this much ordinance would be difficult to handle. But on the other hand, this was better than putting a round through Maxson; the hangar looked like a vital repair or refit depot. Taking this out probably wouldn't cripple them, but it would be a hit to their long term combat viability.

And it pained me that I couldn't. It was too risky, and not just for Nate.

After a few minutes of Nate and Ingram talking they came to an agreement someone would train him with his new set of T-60 power armor.

"We have a suit for you as well", the Proctor said, looking at me, "but from what I hear, you don't need it."

I shook my head.

My companion smacked the back of my arm. My body coiled even tighter at the contact.

It's Nate. Calm down.

"No, he's pretty attached to his current tin can."

"Can't say I've seen anything like that, and I know every version our side ever deployed. Even the experimental rigs the Enclave got their hands on."

There was a clear implication loaded in her question, but she wasn't getting an answer.

I saw the ex-soldier shrug out of my periphery. "You aren't the first person who has said that."

"I don't doubt it, but if I'm going to support you, I need to know what I'm working with."

Provided it didn't suffer any major damage, Mjolnir armor is built to operate without a support crew for extended periods. Mine was modified to extend that indefinitely, even if multiple systems fail, like my HERS, and motion tracker. Comes with the territory when my deployments could last months while maintaining minimal contact with command.

"Maybe at some point, but I don't think he's comfortable letting anyone mess with it for now. We're both still coming to terms with the decision to join you guys, so I hope you'll understand."

Ingram's gaze lingered on me before finally tearing it away and looking down at Nate.

"I do, but I also want to make sure my people get the best support they can. I don't like sending soldiers out there half cocked." She turned back to me. "So I hope you'll come to trust us enough to allow me the privilege of working on your gear if the need ever arises."

That- wasn't the response I was expecting. She didn't plead for, or demand anything. It… almost sounded like she understood how personal letting someone service my armor was. There were only two technicians who had ever done it, and they were both transferred to the SPARTAN IV support team when I was integrated. It was one of the few favors ONI ever did me, and one of the few things I was genuinely grateful for.

I nodded. "Understood."

She flashed a brief smile. "Other than that, it looks like your weapons have seen better days. While we get your friend here set up in his armor, take that rifle over there", she pointed toward a caged off portion of the hangar, "Proctor Teagan will get a new stock and sight put on and dialed in."

I nodded again.

Nate shot me a nervous glance. He was still just as uncomfortable as I was.

As the Proctor left with Nate to head somewhere in the mess of bustling crew members, Danse led me to the gun cage.

All of the guards stayed on me.

While we did get a few furtive glances, most of the Brotherhood staff didn't interact besides giving us a very wide berth. Teagan though… he was different. Unlike Ingram, he asked a dozen questions within the first 30 seconds of watching me approach his station. It wasn't just that he was curious, he asked the questions like he expected them to be answered for the sake of him taking the time to ask.

Danse, oddly enough, stepped in to disrupt the stream of constantly more aggressive inquiries. I guess the older man didn't like the non-responsive stare he was getting in return. "Proctor Teagan, there will be time for questioning later, for now, he just needs a weapon refit."

I pulled the damaged weapon off of my back and set it on the counter in front of me.

"Ah", the quartermaster said as he eyed the large caliber rifle, "and where did you find one of these?" His voice had changed to something closer to satisfaction.

"Raiders."

"Well you met one with the best taste I've seen. McMillan TAC-50 A1. It's a good rifle, about as accurate as a .50 cal is going to get. These ones aren't well suited for field use though, as you seem to have discovered." He picked the weapon up. "I don't know if we have a spare stock for this, but we do have a few C variants. Give me an hour or so to dig one up."

The quartermaster placed the destroyed rifle on the table behind him. "And what about that one?" Teagan motioned at my newly acquired combat rifle.

I wasn't about to part with my primary weapon. "It's fine."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Without waiting for either of the Paladins flanking me, I turned away from the gun cage and started back out into the hangar. My eight man guard began plodding after me in a cacophony of thuds I could feel through the thick steel deck.

"Still not a fan of conversation", Danse said as he drew even with me.

You're one to talk.

"Never have been."

"Have you worked as part of a team before?"

I met his gaze, eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"I'll take that as a yes. Maxson has put me in charge of evaluating you in combat. To that end we have an operation I'd like you to take part in. Your friend will take a day or two to train in his new armor. That should be plenty of time for you." The Paladin almost spat the last sentence.

Still sore over the first time huh?

They already want me to run a mission with them. It wasn't surprising, but the decision showed their inexperience. Even on my deployment with the ODST platoon, we spent the better part of two weeks drilling for the operation. With the IV's it was almost a month. Even with that relatively little time I realized the comfort level you build with your team can be the difference between life and death. The best way to screw a mission was to panic, and the best way to panic is indecision. Very rarely does a deployment go exactly to plan, so it's what happens in the instant after things go sideways that matters. Knowing what the people around you are going to do is just as important as knowing what you will.

Besides all that, I had absolutely no interest in working with these people, acting as part of a team even less so. And it was pretty obvious they weren't just doing this to get an idea of how well I work in a team, they want a profile in case they need to fight me at some point.

"I prefer to operate alone."

"That isn't how we work here. If you want to be a Knight, you are part of a team, you watch your partner's back, and you complete the mission together."

I don't want to be a 'Knight'.

This is just as good an opportunity for me to learn their squad tactics and capabilities as it is for them to gauge me.

And if it turns into a setup?

Like they would bring me to their base of operations, with all the resources they have on hand, and then take me somewhere to ambush me.

Outside of my reservations about working with these fundies, I didn't have any reasonable objections to this. Whatever low rent op they're going to run me through, unless they were markedly less competent than they seemed, wouldn't be a problem.

"What's the mission?"

The Paladin was guiding me toward the Prydwen's bow. I hadn't seen Nate yet.

"Clearing out a known Supermutant outpost. We're investigating the disappearance of one of our advance teams. Drop in, eliminate the mutants, get our Scribe team in, protect them while they find what they need."

"Enemy strength? Terrain assessment?"

Danse didn't answer immediately. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking with his helmet on (ironic).

"A few dozen Supermutants", he replied eventually, "they're held up in what's left of a suburb called the West Everett Estates."

"And the team?"

The Paladin motioned to the guards around me. "Some of the best soldiers in the Brotherhood, so this operation should be no trouble."

I cocked my head at him. I couldn't tell if he meant to imply they were also there to keep an eye on me.

"We have a brief prepared, if you accept we'll get started."

Not like I have a choice.

I nodded.

X

"You want me to put you behind me with a .50 caliber sniper rifle." Danse managed to sound both astonished and irritated. "Not only does that defeat the purpose of an evaluation, but I don't feel like taking one of those in the back."

His helmet's tinted lenses were too dark to see through, and the dim lighting in the large office they repurposed to be a prep room didn't help. "Leave one of yours with me then. This is what I do best, and it would make for minimal disruption of team cohesion."

That wasn't strictly true. While I was a steady hand with any rifle, CQC was my bread and butter. I'd pulled off my share of 'one in a million' shots though, and as far as Fourier's team went, Amanda, the squad's sniper, was the only one better.

If only by a little.

"You're still asking me to trust you."

"Nate's still here."

It felt odd, using their own leverage, the ex-soldier's safety, against them, but it was my best option. I got to see how they fight from a bird's eye view, I didn't have to worry about truly working with them, and it gave me the chance to finally use the rifle. Or at least one like it.

"I'll go with him", one of the soldiers standing around the large table said. From the voice I would guess a woman.

Danse looked at her, but didn't reply. He knew damn well what would happen if I decided I didn't want to play nice. First hand experience with a rifle being shoved in your face has a tendency to promote caution.

"Grant", he said after almost a minute of silence, looking at the armored soldier to my right, "you and Carter are on spotter/support duty."

The woman, Carter, and another Brotherhood member, Grant, both nodded.

I looked back down at the map of our AO, double checking my assessment. The neighborhood wasn't very large, maybe twice the size of Sanctuary, but it had none of the settlement's natural barriers. On top of that, it was within a good sniper's range of some of the smaller towers in the metropolitan area's edges. That's where I decided to station.

A little over a klick out was, what Danse had told me, a relatively intact 15 story office building. Like most SPARTANs, the SRS99 chambered in 14.5x114mm was my go to long range weapon, but I have plenty of experience with the 12.7x99mm cartridge. It didn't have the velocity of the larger round, but it wasn't far off, and at that range, it wouldn't matter. The extra elevation would help too, both overwatch and trajectory.

"Okay people, we insert a half mile west of the target. Our overwatch will hitch a ride with the Scribe detachment. Sampson, Frazier and I will take lead, Collins and Pouncey on support. Without info on the Supermutants' armament, we won't have Vertibird flyovers so this is a ground operation only. We'll take cues from our overwatch", the Paladin cast a glance at me, "and signal the all clear only once we've swept the neighborhood for any possible stragglers."

They all nodded their agreement and began filtering out of the room, but Danse didn't budge, eyes locked on me.

"What's your play", he asked after the other soldiers had left. "You and I both know you have no problem at close quarters."

"I told you."

"You're saying you're a better shot than fighter." He didn't sound convinced.

"If you're this concerned, why bring me? I'm the same risk to your people whether I'm on the ground or not."

"I can't keep an eye on you if you're almost a mile away."

"Attacking you makes no sense."

The Paladin didn't respond immediately. He knew I was right, but the man didn't like me. I couldn't blame him, the feeling was mutual.

"Fine, but don't think you have carte blanche, every one of them have standing orders to shoot you if you become a threat."

Again, the feeling's mutual.

"Likewise."

"Hmm. Does that tin can of yours have comms?"

"Broken."

He grabbed a small radio and mic from the table. "We're on 140.00."

"Understood."

We left the prep room and Danse led me to the gun cage where Teagan was waiting with another bolt action rifle resting on the counter in front of him. The man wasn't very emotive, but he seemed to almost buzz with excitement. The weapon didn't share any exterior features with my last one; this one had a milled aluminum stock with integrated picatinny rails over the receiver and on the handguard. The barrel was fluted with a massive muzzle brake on the end and the Proctor had topped it off with what looked like a 5-25x50 optic.

I couldn't help the smile slowly spreading across my face.

"I put this one together just before we got here." The gruff looking man pushed the rifle along with a small bipod and several boxes of ammunition and magazines toward me. "The scope has zero locks and is sighted in at 100 yards."

Slinging the rifle over my back, I grabbed the bipod and ammo. "Understood."

"I'm hoping you can put it to better use than some of the bedwetting FNG's we got around here."

Oh I will.

"I'll try not to disappoint."

The Proctor glanced at Danse. "Oh I've heard of your run in with our esteemed Paladin. I'm sure you won't."

"Let's get moving", the man in question said, "the rest of the team will be waiting for us."

Teagan had inadvertently given me another piece of information: they have a lot of newly minted fighters. That meant a significant portion of their fighting force was inexperienced, heavily dependent on leadership. By extension, that meant their combat effectiveness would be reliant on a few more experienced soldiers, and that gave me targets.

As we left the hangar, I took another look around for Nate, but there was no sign of my companion. Had they taken him somewhere else? It would make sense; training in a suit of power armor in an area this crowded wasn't a good idea.

My unease mounted as we emerged on the Prydwen's docks. I wasn't afraid of these people. If shit hit the fan or the soldiers with me decided to try something stupid, I could handle it. What had me on edge was the idea of working with them at all. Not only were they a cult, but I just met most of them two days ago, and the ones I had encountered before that, Danse, Haylen, and Rhys, I'd shot. Cooperating with people I know is hard enough. Cooperating with strangers was… extremely disconcerting.

The other issue would be what happened to Nate if things went upside down. But unfortunately, refusing them now would put us in a bad position for sure. I could only handle one problem at a time. If that came to pass… well I would have to improvise.

Even with all that, this is something I have to do. At the other end of this is a path toward the Institute doctor hiding out in the 'Glowing Sea'. I'm only doing this to get one step closer to potentially finding a way back.

Setting aside my aversion to working with people… Fourier would be proud.

And I'm getting a very nice rifle and ammo out of it.

Danse was right. He led me back to the docks at the Prydwen's aft where the six armored soldiers were waiting beside a Vertibird.

The five in the forward team climbed into that one while my two 'escorts' moved toward another across the docking station. This one had three unarmored Brotherhood members, the Scribes, each carrying a large backpack and laser rifle.

One of them was Haylen.

She eyed me before offering a small wave. The scribe was probably as wary of me as I was of them. For good reason I guess, I did almost kill her. But Haylen seemed to be more pragmatic than most of the people here. She was the one who convinced Danse to accept our help in exchange for information, even if it hadn't led Nate or I anywhere.

I nodded in return.

The Brotherhood members climbed into the waiting VTOL. I took a deep breath as I approached the aircraft.

It was an odd feeling, being both excited and nervous at the same time. It was something I'd experienced countless times before, but it's been a while since I've had it like this.

I found myself smiling despite everything. 'New' could be uncomfortable, but 'new' also meant thrilling. The politics aren't something I'm fond of, but throwing myself into new, unknown situations is what I did for the better part of a decade. That had lessened during my time with Fourier's squad, but this was very new. While there were plenty of things about it that made me uncomfortable, I was fascinated by the prospect of an entirely new type of mission.

The Brotherhood was certainly that.

I spent the first ten minutes of the flight charging my new rifle's magazines and familiarizing myself with the weapon. Teagan may have been annoying, but he knew how to build a gun.

Every person in the Vertibird's passenger compartment had their eyes locked on me. It wasn't unusual, but there was an added level of discomfort. I did my best to ignore it, but when I was finished securing the bipod, I looked up to see Haylen staring straight into my visor.

The Scribe didn't look away as I met her gaze.

"It's good to see you again", she shouted over the pounding rotors.

I cocked my head.

"I mean it. Rhys would have died if it weren't for you two. Danse and I probably would have too."

Even after I shot you? I didn't give the question voice, instead responding with a nod.

"Can I ask you something?"

I have heard that way too many times over the past few weeks.

"Why did you decide to join us?"

Apparently Haylen took my lack of a response as an affirmative.

"It was the logical decision."

"The logical decision? What do you mean?"

"Why is it important?"

The Scribe frowned. "Why wouldn't it be? You didn't have to join."

It didn't seem like she was digging for anything. Did she not understand how her own organization worked?

"It was either this or make number one on your shit list."

The occupants' collective attention was already on me, but the statement seemed to sharpen it. That probably wasn't the right thing to say.

Haylen looked upset, if not offended. "No you wouldn't have. As long as you didn't align yourself with the Institute, we would have left you alone. Maxson isn't interested in making any other enemies."

And you don't remember what I told you in Cambridge?

I shrugged. She didn't understand how the Brotherhood operated. It wasn't a surprise, those things tend to live under the 'righteous duty' and strong man rhetoric, and it wasn't my job to educate her on the militia she served in. At the end of the day, I will probably end up fighting the Brotherhood. Maybe she'll get caught up in it, or maybe she's smart enough to recognize who she works for and leave. Or maybe she'll find out and stay anyway. That's her choice, not mine.

"So you're saying you only joined because you didn't want to fight us?"

The others were staring at me, including the two armored soldiers. They were the ones I needed to worry about. Not only were they a risk during the mission, but everything I said here would make it back to Danse and Maxson.

"No."

"What then?"

Am I supposed to tell her we're just staying long enough to get Nate a suit of power armor? Right.

"I'm here to help." For now.

Haylen looked decidedly unsatisfied with my answer, but again, that was her problem.

I turned my attention back to the now thinning cityscape racing by underneath the aircraft. They were inserting under a klick out? These things are loud enough to be heard from five times that. Hell, the Supermutants would probably know where I was.

As the city began turning to suburb, or what was left of it, the other Vertibird veered south while we maintained course. Eventually we began descending toward a cluster of squat office buildings set in the center of what look like it had been a business park a few centuries ago. I slung my new toy and readied the combat rifle.

Nothing besides dirt and sparse vegetation moved as the VTOL's props whipped the air around, hovering just over the building. The instant its wheels touched concrete, I was out of the passenger compartment, clearing the roof and making my way toward the access door at the corner adjacent to us. The others were much slower leaving the aircraft. Slow enough I had to check whether or not they were going to at all. I may not have been the most experienced with them, but I knew pilots who would tear any infantryman a new asshole if they kept their bird on the deck too long without proper cover.

In one very amusing instance, a Pelican wing leader had come to the armory post-op. She laid into the team lead of another squad of IV's like he was fresh out of basic. I don't know what happened, but it involved one of his SPARTANs screwing up their insertion. I'll give them credit, those guys don't give a fuck.

If anyone had been waiting, and had any combat experience at all, that Vertibird would have been full of bullet holes and everyone in it would probably be dead.

Once the two armored soldiers had disembarked and took positions around the aircraft, the Scribes began climbing down as well.

At least they'd gotten that right.

"Paladin Danse", one of my escorts, Grant judging by the voice, said over comms, "we're at the Overwatch location."

"Understood, assault team is landing in three minutes."

"We'll be ready." The soldier nodded at me.

Their comms suck too. Everything I'd seen so far only reinforced my initial assessment: these people are trained a well-equipped, but have never seen any major engagement. At least not recently.

We moved down into the building, clearing out the upper floors. Other than a few of those giant cockroaches, it was quiet and empty.

By the time three minutes had ticked off of my clock, I'd chosen a window with a clear view of our target area. Despite their protest, Carter and Grant were clearing the building. Carter tried to say she could go it alone, but I could tell even she knew that was a stupid suggestion.

I settled behind my new rifle, cradling the pistol grip with my right and pressing the stock against my shoulder with my left.

It had been too long since I'd done this.

Whatever scope Teagan had fitted to this, it was very high end for conventional glass. Most didn't cooperate with the odd position my helmet necessitated, but this one had damn near perfect eye relief and the sight picture was crystal clear.

My HUD automatically began displaying range to target. If I'd been using the scopes with digital assist fitted to most modern rifles, it would begin making adjustments as I shifted my aim. I've always enjoyed the old fashioned methods: estimating windage and drop based on field conditions and manually adjusting turrets. It wasn't the rifle making shots for me, it was my own skill and time behind a trigger doing the work.

The vegetation was calm all the way to target. There were a few loose panels on several of the crumbling houses shifting in a gentle wind, but that looked to be at the far end of my target area.

I checked range, 950 meters at the front end, 1400 at the far, and ran the numbers in my head. That would give me between 5 and 7 meters of drop. I adjusted the sight for the front edge and began scanning the area for targets.

It took me a few moments to identify the first Supermutant. It… wasn't what I had been expecting. I'm not sure what I thought they would be, but large, misshapen, yellow facsimiles of people wasn't it. They were milling around the neighborhood in groups of three or four, with 15 collected near the center around, what looked like a pile of-

Oh.

Then the corpses registered.

There had to have been dozens of them. It was impossible to tell for sure; most were mutilated beyond recognition, torn apart and scattered around the village. There was blood everywhere.

Another piece of the attack flashed through my mind as I saw more Kig Yar pile on the corpses that, up until a moment ago, had been my family and neighbors. Blood spewed over the inside of my childhood home as the sounds of tearing flesh and breaking bone grew louder than my crying. Within a few seconds, there was nothing recognizable left of the people who had been trying to defend themselves and their loved ones from the Covenant.

Had the same thing happened here? Is this what Supermutants do?

I refocused on the main group. They were all dressed in mismatched collections of leather and steel plate haphazardly strapped anywhere they thought may need it. Their protection made Raiders look uniform.

And they were eating.

This wasn't the first time I'd seen people being eaten since the attack. There had been several more encounters with Covenant. And one with a Fundie outfit.

That one managed to rattle me. I took a much more personal pleasure in making sure they didn't do that again. None of them upset me though. It was probably because I'd pushed all of that away.

But now…

Most of the blood around their little get together hadn't had a chance to dry yet. Whoever they were eating had been alive just a few hours ago.

Those had been people.

Judging by the amount of bones scattered throughout the neighborhood, and brown, dried blood staining the cracked streets, and dilapidated houses, this wasn't even close to the first time. The Supermutants are cannibals. They prey on people to eat.

People killing people over land, resources, religion- shit whatever, I don't care. That's what I do. Well, it's what I do for the UNSC. Killing people to eat them? Like livestock?

No.

More than anything I wished I wasn't up here lying behind this rifle. I wanted to be down there. I wanted to tear them apart the same way they had their victims. I know what that looks like, what that sounds like. What that feels like. These bastards-

I had to check my thumb. It was resting on the rifle's safety, ready to push it forward. My index finger was ready to put a round down range and get things started. I couldn't though. Danse's squad wasn't in position yet, and the best way to make sure every one of these motherfuckers died was to have ground support ready to catch whatever fell through the cracks.

I keyed my mic. "Danse, estimate enemy forces at 50. 10 patrols of 3 to 4, 15 more in the middle of town. Eating."

"You said 50?"

"Affirmative."

"And you said they're eating?"

"Affirmative. 15."

The Paladin paused.

"Understood. We'll be in position in three minutes."

"Acknowledged."

My attention returned to the collection of houses. I pushed the cold fury to the back of my head and focused on threat assessment. I couldn't kill the bastards with angry thoughts.

The Supermutants' armament was just as haphazard as their equipment. Most had some form of long gun: rifles, a shotgun or two, one had a damn Gatling gun sitting on the ground next to it, carrying a large ammo pack. There were a few others who didn't have anything except something small and round strapped to their wrists. Probably suicide bombers.

They hadn't reacted to the Vertibirds flying nearby. Strange.

Three minutes wasn't long enough to establish patrol routes, if they even existed, or probe for ideal infiltration points. The best I could do was give Danse and his fireteam up to date enemy positions and play hell with whatever response these disorganized assholes put together.

I glanced toward where the small group of Brotherhood soldiers would be approaching from. They were using visual cover the best they could with their ungainly armor. Their 'cover and move' tactics were rudimentary, taking the first decent position they could find like they were in combat, but the armored men were thorough and disciplined.

The fireteam was using rather obvious signals, but that was probably because of the armor. None of them were using comms, unless they had a separate channel to speak privately which would be stupid in a combat situation, especially if it's cutting off their overwatch. That meant they were making their callouts aloud, which would be even worse, or they were only using nonverbal communication. I couldn't imagine they were dumb enough to go with the first two options. That meant, at least this relatively elite squad, was well trained and had experience.

Even if they weren't going to show me all their tricks, which may be why they're using such simple methods, they were still telling me enough. These guys were well versed in conventional ground combat, but there were serious, exploitable gaps. I thought back to the Vertibird, still sitting on the roof. How long it took them to disembark.

They've fought, but they haven't been in real battles. They aren't used to fighting people with sound tactics and advanced technology.

I looked back at the neighborhood. Several groups were in the soldiers' approach. "I have eyes on you- Danse", not having callsigns felt odd, "three patrols along your approach, first one is at your 11, 50 meters ahead. Second and third are both at your two, 100 meters out."

"Where are the rest", the Paladin asked, still slowly advancing.

"Scattered around the neighborhood. They don't have any patterns; once the shooting starts, they'll all make for your position."

"That's to be expected."

Despite my reservations, this type of in-op communication was almost natural by this point. I guess the IV's did a decent job there. Even with the Brotherhood soldier's awful comms etiquette

"Recommend I take the group in the middle before you engage."

"What kind of weapons are we going up against?"

"Mostly rifles, a few suicide bombers, one with a small caliber Gatling gun." Granted, small is relative here. I'm used to the 110mm ship to ship rotary cannons the GA-TL1 Longsword carried.

"Can you take out the Gatling gun first?"

I intended to. "Affirmative."

"We'll go with your idea then."

Did that mean they would engage once I began shooting? "Understood, wait on my go." The Supermutants needed to be thoroughly confused before the fireteam engaged. They may have been well equipped and up against a group that looked like it was operating with about half a brain between all of them, but it was still five non-SPARTANs against 50.

"Not when you start shooting?"

"Negative."

Danse didn't reply immediately. So their default is the brute force method.

"Okay."

I waited another 30 seconds, adjusting the zero on my scope to the first batch of Supermutants, and establishing a target progression.

They were still eating.

It was unfortunate the first group wouldn't get the chance to be afraid. One moment they'd be… enjoying their meal, and the next they'd be dead. But, as with the Covies, it was time to put the emotion away and get to work. Emotions only lead to mistakes.

And I'm not making any more goddamn mistakes.

I scanned the neighborhood once more to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Once I confirmed I had each visible Supermutant accounted for, I placed my crosshair over the first target's head. It was tearing another bite from some piece of a person, flesh from a thigh based on the size.

That was the last bite the motherfucker would take.

I slipped my index finger onto the trigger took up the slack, and inhaled, deep. After an instant, I pushed half of the air from my lungs, held, counted my heartbeats, and in between the fourth and fifth, squeezed my new rifle's trigger.

The weapon had a well-oiled trigger mechanism and the break was crisp, maybe even better than the standard issue SRS-99's. It's large, 12.7mm round exploded from the barrel, a small fireball following it out. Even through my armor, I could feel the concussion produced by the large bullet and aggressive muzzle brake in the confined space.

I didn't wait for the bullet to impact my first target. I cycled the bolt, chambering a new cartridge, adjusted aim, and sent the next one on its way just as the first crashed into the Gatling gun carrying Supermutant.

Even as I ejected the second spent casing, I watched the round slam into the thing's head, just under the bridge of its nose. I've always drawn grim satisfaction from seeing high powered sniper rounds hit my target, especially from these types of distances. The bastard's head exploded into a cascade of blood, bone, and brain, splashing over its companions as I sent the third round down range. The second found its home in the broken asphalt behind the second Supermutant's own blood shower, sending fragments of the street exploding in all directions.

It wasn't until the fourth 12.7mm was on its journey when the center group finally realized they were being picked off and scrambled away from the three headless bodies. The fourth shot missed, but that didn't surprise me. Hitting erratically moving targets at this range was damn near impossible. You might as well spray at them with whatever rifle you could get your hands on.

So I switched to the patrols nearest Danse's position. They were stopped, looking around for the source of the distant booms.

Dumb. Asses.

Two in the group less than 50 meters from the fireteam were down before the third and fourth began running.

I swapped the empty magazine for a fresh one and chambered the next round.

In the next 20 seconds, I managed to put down 3 more Supermutants, and blow an arm and leg off of 2 more with my second mag. By then, the entire neighborhood was covered in the remaining 40 or so running in all directions, trying to figure out what was attacking them.

"Engage", I barked into my mic.

The instant I did, the five dormant Brotherhood soldiers exploded from their cover, guns blazing at the edge of the neighborhood. The rifle fire wasn't meant to kill anything, most regular people wouldn't be able to hit a vehicle sized target doing that, but keep any remaining combatants' heads down. Not that it was much use against these things, they barely registered the armored soldiers' approach.

I put two more rounds downrange, one hitting a Supermutant in the sternum, folding the large, yellow figure in half as its spine exited its back in an explosion of mulched organs. The second one punched through the siding of a house, and I saw burst of asphalt fly into the air on the other side, but I missed the target behind the wall.

Gunfire began flying in the opposite direction, back toward the advancing fireteam, as they started pushing into the collection of houses. Most of it was ineffective, but I saw one of the soldiers take a few hits. It didn't faze whoever was stuffed into the armor, and the five of them continued advancing into the firefight.

And that's when the suicide bombers began streaming toward the Brotherhood soldiers. I counted a dozen of the bastards, whatever the bomb was strapped to their wrists now blinking red.

My sniper rifle took two out of the fight before the mag ran dry. I swapped as quickly as I could, two spares left, and slammed the bolt forward. By then, the soldiers had taken out four more, finding cover from the gunfire and concentrating on the rushing Supermutants. Seven more were still bounding between crumbling houses. I took another shot, but it missed. Removing that threat was up to the fireteam now.

Switching back to the more conventionally armed enemies, I began picking off targets of opportunity. The punch 12.7mm rounds had made life easier, able to break through any wall a target was hiding behind. The first three rounds found their targets. I sighted on a fifth, this one trying to rush in after the suicide bombers. My finger tightened around the trigger and the rifle boomed-

A blinding light erupted near the Brotherhood soldiers' position. My visor polarized as far as it would go, but a massive sunspot still blocked most of my vision. Just as it began clearing, a boom loud enough to shake the tower slammed into me.

"Report", I shouted into comms. I inserted my penultimate magazine.

No response.

"Danse, status report."

Dust and smoke were rising into the air over the neighborhood in a massive cloud. It didn't take a genius to figure out one of the suicide bombers detonated their charge. The brightness of that flash, that wasn't a conventional detonation; that looked nuclear. But a nuke that small? Most of the houses in the area were still… as intact as they were when we arrived. Is that possible?

I understand the basics of fission and fusion detonations, but I don't know the physical limits of those nuclear reactions. Was it possible to produce weapons with such small yields?

Not important.

Despite myself, I took my eye off the scope and turned back to my escorts who were now standing in the rear of the room, staring through the window at the miniature mushroom cloud.

"Can your armor survive that?"

Neither responded.

"WAKE UP", I barked again, in a voice that would have brought a tear to Mendez's eye. The two Brotherhood soldiers tore their eyes from the explosion and their attention snapped to me. "If the fireteam's gone, we're bugging the fuck out. So. Can your armor survive that?"

"Depends on proximity", Grant said, voice shaky. "It might survive a near miss, but not a direct hit."

That doesn't tell me anything. I didn't have eyes on the Brotherhood soldiers when the 'mini nuke' went off.

"Danse, status."

Static.

If that really was some sort of nuclear detonation, it scrambled comms.

I'd forgotten about the massive burst of spectrum wide radiation accompanying those explosions. It would be like they were standing beside a radar jammer for the next 30 seconds.

Dammit.

I sighted back in on the neighborhood, searching for signs of a gunfight. The thick dust swirled upward in the erratic air currents produced from the extreme temperature gradient and local vacuum produced by the explosion. It was impossible to make out anything in the mess.

As I watched, studying the detonation site for anything, the telltale flash of laser fire erupted in the cloud of smoke while I watched. They were from at least three distinct positions.

So at least a few of them survived. Then it was time to get back to work.

I adjusted my aim and began searching for targets that were an immediate threat to whatever was left of the fireteam. Each round had to be a kill, I only have 10 left. I slowed my pace, watching each bullet impact at its intended destination before moving on.

Just as I swapped in my last mag, the speakers in my helmet crackled back to life.

"-hear me?" It was Danse's voice, heavily distorted, but definitely his.

"Danse, repeat your last."

"Can you hear me?" His voice was distant, but steady. The Paladin was disciplined if nothing else

"I copy, what's your status?"

"Frazier is down, Pouncey is wounded."

"Acknowledge. I'm almost black on ammo, enemy force at", I scanned the neighborhood, "25% strength."

The dust cloud thinned as we talked.

"Understood, Pouncey is able to fight and we still need to finish clearing these things out."

"Acknowledged. Area to your 9 O'clock is clear; move there and regroup, I'll provide limited cover."

"Thanks."

The area around them was covered in new body parts and scattered pieces of armor. There were too many to just be Frazier, so those must have been the remains of whatever suicide bombers got to the fireteam.

I watched the four living soldier, one of them with a severe limp, begin toward the designated area. This time their simplistic cover and move methods were perfect for the situation, especially with a wounded team member. Their immediate vicinity was still clear, so I switched to looking for Supermutants outside the blast zone. Several were still firing at the transitioning group, but as I watched one of them caught a burst of laser fire to the stomach. Its intestines were shredded and began tumbling out of the gaping hole in its stomach, but the damn thing kept shooting. It took two more bursts, one to the left collar bone, and another to the chest to put it down.

I'd been firing very high powered rounds at those cannibalistic bastards, but the Brotherhood were using basic (for them) laser weapons. I guess that's what Sturges meant by 'hard to kill'.

There were others firing at them, and the wounded soldier, Pouncey, took a couple rounds in the right shoulder and side of his helmet. He stumbled as I found the perpetrator and put a round through his left ear.

Four left. I should have asked for more ammo. 30 rounds wasn't enough for an operation like this.

I chambered another cartridge. I can berate myself after the fireteam is out of danger.

One more Supermutant lost its head in a rather spectacular explosion that left the wall behind it and one of its friends covered in blood and brain as the soldiers set up sightlines from their new position. The remaining nine targets seemed to lose their patience at that point, rushing the group.

At least they want this over with too.

They didn't last long. The Brotherhood soldiers were good shots, and the Supermutants decided they weren't going to use the same tried and true tactics the fireteam did. I emptied my last magazine, two of the three shots hitting their intended targets. Under other circumstances, I'd be disappointed with my accuracy. I missed eight times, but combat situations were erratic and unpredictable. A 70% plus effective rate was acceptable given the new rifle.

I pulled the bolt back, last spent casing ejecting from the weapon, and left it. It wasn't necessary, but old habits die hard. I had always done it during training to remind myself I was no longer combat effective.

Another sweep of the neighborhood didn't turn up any more targets, but in a place like that, it was impossible to be sure from over a klick away.

Plus, I wanted to get down there just in case there are any more Supermutants in hiding. It wasn't because I wanted to keep the fireteam safe from them. Now that the primary threat was dealt with, I felt my anger return. This was a more… personal decision. There was certainly tactical viability, but I wasn't going to lie to myself.

And this isn't a mistake; I just have to make sure I don't make any while I'm down there.

I stood from my prone position and collected the combat rifle on the ground next to me, the empty weapon, and its magazines.

"Stay here", I said, turning to my escorts who had resumed watching the hall outside, "protect the Scribes, the Vertibird will come back and pick you up once we give the all clear."

Carter's head whipped toward me. "What?"

I really hate it when people question my decisions. It's become a constant since landing here.

"Your people are in bad shape, and we need to make sure the neighborhood is secure."

My patience wasn't going to let me wait for a response. I pushed past the two soldiers and headed for the roof. They followed, but didn't stop me. I guess that was an improvement.

Danse agreed when I told him I was coming down to support. Climbing into the VTOL, I strapped my sniper rifle into one of the seats and double checked the combat rifle. The pilot had been listening to our comms and already had the two rotors spinning up as I did.

I leaned through the passage into the cockpit as the Vertibird lifted off of the building's roof. "Drop me west of the fireteam."

"That's all houses."

"Hover, over the buildings, I don't need you to land."

The pilot took his eyes away from his instruments long enough to cast a dubious glance back at me. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay then."

The flight was only a minute or so, but there was no more gunfire as we approached the west side of the neighborhood. The pilot flared his bird out into a hover just over the roofs and I jumped from a side door. As soon as I was clear and falling toward the destroyed street below, the VTOL's engines were whining and it began climbing back into the sky.

It wasn't a long drop, maybe four meters, and I flexed my legs doing my best to absorb the impact without rolling. Even if it was unlikely any enemies were hiding in this area at this point, I still didn't want to give the outside chance an opportunity. The already broken pavement fractured even more, but I don't think anyone will notice.

The Vertibird's pounding rotors receded toward the tower as I cleared my landing zone and started forward. The air was still thick with smoke and dust from the explosion. There was no residual radiation though. Odd.

I slipped between two houses that had been hit by the blast, both walls facing the detonation completely collapsed. "Danse, approaching from your 4 o'clock."

"Understood", came the terse reply. I couldn't tell if he was frustrated or concentrating.

The detonation site was immediately to my right as I emerged from the houses. There wasn't much left at the center of the blast besides some twisted metal that looked like it may have been one of their power armor frames. Some body parts were scattered around the street beyond, but anything else within 50 meters of the epicenter looks like it had been vaporized.

No more Supermutants in sight though.

The remaining members of the fireteam were hunkered down outside of a small cluster of houses. The wounded man, Pouncey, was just inside the front door of one, another Brotherhood soldier pulling a mangled piece of armor off of his right leg. The two others, one I assumed was Danse, were standing guard outside.

"Are you secure here?"

One of the armored soldiers looked at me as I approached. "Yes."

"I'll clear the rest of the neighborhood."

"I can assist."

I came to a stop in front of the two Brotherhood members. "No. Keep your people safe." There were other reasons I didn't want the man following me, but that was the only one that would have any traction with him.

"I'll assist." The Paladin's voice was still tight.

"I don't need you, they", I motioned to the two soldiers in the house, "might." The longer we stood here arguing about it, the more time any stragglers had to regroup.

Without waiting for a response, I turned and jogged into the collection of crumbling houses and scattered body parts. Danse didn't follow. He was one I'd have to remove first whenever this kicks off. The Paladin was smart, disciplined, and pragmatic. He may have been prideful, but he wasn't letting that get in the way of the best decision. Unfortunately, that was another strike against the Brotherhood: if someone like Danse was buying into Maxson's fanaticism, it meant even the most practical members of the militia were along for the ride.

Picking my way through the mess of destroyed buildings, dead Supermutants, and scraps of what had been people sharpened my anger once again. It was similar to how I felt coming across an Insurrectionist group that did this. At first, Supermutants were a curiosity: a new type of enemy that might put up a good fight. Now they were anything but. The only thing I could think of was how I hoped there were still a few alive I could get a little more up close and personal with. But I wasn't going to let that distract me, especially if those things were carrying around bombs like the one they'd killed Frazier with.

Despite my wishes, after a full sweep of the neighborhood, I didn't find any. I counted 54 bodies, which meant the Brotherhood soldiers had put down 30 of the bastards. Not bad. They weren't smart and probably didn't know how to spell the word 'tactics', but they were tough, and there were a lot of them.

The last place I looked was the center of town, where the large group had been… eating. It wasn't that I hadn't seen people dismembered like this, but this brought back uncomfortable memories. I couldn't smell the pools of blood, rotting flesh, or burning bones, but I know exactly what that's like. I wish I hadn't remembered the attack, or at least remembered it with a little less detail. I could almost hear bones shattering, limbs being torn from their owners.

Their screams.

Yeah. I was going to kill every Supermutant I came across. And I wasn't going to be quick about it.

Bang.

I whirled to my left, rifle at the ready, aimed at one of the many destroyed houses. This one was missing most of its front wall. Inside were several mounds of rotting bodies and what looked like ancient torture equipment.

Bang.

It sounded like someone pounding on a door. My jaw clenched hard enough I felt like my teeth would shatter.

This was where they were keeping their- food. And where they butchered them

Bang.

"Hello", a muffled shout came from inside the house.

I picked my way past the gruesome collection of body parts and into the house's hall. It was barely large enough for me to fit.

Bang.

"Did someone kill those Supermutant assholes?"

It was coming from a door at the rear of the hall, doorknob chained to the frame. I took a deep breath, trying to force down the roiling fury that had taken hold.

"Yes", I replied, "stand away from the door."

"Who are you?" The voice was female. And guarded.

"I'm here to help. The Supermutants are dead. Back away from the door."

There was a brief pause. "Okay."

As her footsteps receded, I wrapped the chain around my hand until it was taunt. Twisting, I pulled the chain toward me and after a moment, the knob tore free from the wooden door. I swung it open to see a dark room occupied by a girl, maybe 16 years old, standing in front of two very young boys. They were both huddled behind her, clinging to the teenager's legs, faces drenched with tears.

I stood in the doorway, staring at the girl. She was tall and slender with long blonde hair that was matted and dirty. It was hard to tell with how dark the room was, but I'm fairly certain it was blood. She was even younger than me…

The two younger children couldn't have been any older than eight.

"Who are you", the girl demanded. Her voice was shaky, but determined.

I didn't respond. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop the tidal wave of anger from spilling into every corner of my mind.

This is what happened to me. This is what happened to me.

More images, most of them the same one's I'd seen a dozen times by this point. A few others of the evacuation, the inside of the shuttle, still covered in my mother's blood.

"Who are you?" Her voice was much more accusatory this time.

I shook the memories away. The fury wasn't going to subside, but I had to deal with that for now.

"I'm here to help." I lowered my rifle and held out my left hand. I didn't know if it was the right thing to do, I'd never dealt with this situation before, but it was the only thing I could think of.

The girl spread her hands in front of the two younger kids, as if she could ward me off with willpower alone. "I asked who you are." This time she couldn't keep all of the fear out of her voice.

She had to know I'm not a Supermutant, right?

She's scared. Rational thinking doesn't work here.

How am I going to convince her to come with me then?

… Wing it?

Oh that's helpful.

"My… name is Damon. I'm a soldier. The Supermutants are all dead."

The girl's arms wavered. "A soldier? From where?" Her voice broke ever so slightly.

'The UNSC' isn't going to fly here.

"I'm with the Brotherhood of Steel."

"The Brother- who are they?"

I glanced down the hall toward the living room full of dismembered bodies. As much as I doubted any more Supermutants were out there, it wasn't worth risking.

"That's a long story, but right now I'm here to help. We need to go before any more Supermutants come."

"Ok-okay." Despite her earlier wariness, the girl suddenly sounded close to breaking down. She looked down at the two boys behind her. "It's okay, we're going to- going to be okay." Her voice was low and soft. The younger kids were staring at me, eyes wide as dinner plates.

She stepped through the door and took my offered hand. Her's was barely larger than my palm. So fragile. And she'd been through this.

I stared down at her, the girl now on the verge of tears. I felt like I had to say something. But what? What had I wanted to hear? What did I have to say that would help when I haven't dealt with my own past? What could possibly make this situation any better for them?

Knowing that there's going to be a future.

"It's okay. You're safe."

A choked sob escaped from the young girl and, an instant later, she burst into tears. She let go of my hand and wrapped her arms as far around my waist as they would go, burying her face in the titanium plate over my stomach. The two boys follow suit, each grabbing onto one of my legs.

Normally, my response to being held like this was… violent. But watching these three children cry into my armor- my chest tightened, not only with a burning hatred and anger, but sadness. It was a sadness that was far too close to home. Far too deep and painful. And yet I couldn't do anything about it.

I waited a moment, pushing the anger as far away as I could manage before keying my comms. "Danse, the neighborhood is clear. I have three survivors in the center of town."

"You said you have three survivors? You mean people?"

"Affirmative." I paused to take another deep breath. "Three children."

Silence bloomed over radio. It was several seconds before the Paladin replied. He must have known what that meant. "Grant, Carter, get the Scribes down here. Damon, give us a few minutes, we'll help secure the center of town to evacuate the survivors."

"Copy", I replied, voice hoarse. The others responded in kind, but I wasn't listening anymore. My attention was back on the children sobbing into me. Me. A weapon of war. In Nate's words a 'literal killing machine.' Into a suit of power armor who's one purpose is to make killing people and staying alive easier.

And yet… I might have been the best person to be standing here. I understood. I understood better than most ever could. The searing pain in my chest, working its way up my throat, told me not only could I sympathize with how they felt, I felt it with them.

Had there been someone like this for me after the attack? I still couldn't remember what happened once the Covenant killed- almost everyone. Did someone tell me it was going to be okay?

Several minutes passed with the three of them holding onto me, crying. I should have felt awkward. This kind of personal contact wasn't something I dealt with. Standing stock still like this was just as uncomfortable. Normally.

I could hear the pounding rotors of the Vertibird approaching, the steady whump, whump, whump, rhythmically beating the air to keep the VTOL aloft. The relatively gentle thuds of the Brotherhood soldiers approaching in their power armor was just audible over the aircraft and sobbing.

One of the Brotherhood soldiers entered the house followed by a quiet "oh shit." I looked back down the hall toward the living room full of dismembered corpses to see Danse staring at the pile. After a moment, he met my gaze and saw the bawling kids clinging to me.

Another thought occurred to me: what would I do if he tried to take them? He isn't my enemy, yet, but he isn't my ally either. The Brotherhood are fanatical. The last thing I wanted was to let these children be indoctrinated into their cult. I know how that goes too. I know how that goes all too well.

"The Vertibirds are both landing now", the Paladin said over comms, "we'll have Scribe Haylen take care of them."

Have Haylen take care of them? Leave them to the care of someone in the Brotherhood? No matter how kind the Scribe seemed, she was still a part of the Brotherhood, an outfit that followed Maxson. I couldn't do that. Something in me had to know these children would be alright, and that wasn't going to happen with these fundamentalists.

Well I'm sure as hell the wrong person to take care of them. And what am I going to do? Start a war with the Brotherhood now over this with Nate still on the Prydwen?

I don't know, but what am I supposed to do? Let these people ruin the rest of their lives even more?

I can figure that out once we're out of this mess.

As much as it pained me, I nodded. The only realistic option was to bring them back to the airport. For now. But they aren't staying there, and I'm not going to leave the Brotherhood until I know they're safe.

Reading body language was difficult in that armor, and I couldn't see his face, so I had no way of telling what he was thinking. I guess that's what people feel like around me. If his hesitation was anything to go by though, he was uncomfortable. I'm not sure what I would have thought if he hadn't been.

It wasn't long before the thud of other armored soldiers approached the front of the house. The three kids were just beginning to gather themselves when Haylen walked into the mess that had been a living room at one point in the past. Just like Danse, she paused to stare at the mound of bodies before the Paladin began explaining what had happened. She looked from him to me and the children who had let go of me. The girl was kneeling in front of the younger boys, hugging them. They didn't look anything alike, but that didn't necessarily mean they weren't siblings.

I felt the Scribe's eyes on me for a moment before her attention switched to the kids and began toward us.

"Hi, my name is Haylen." Her voice was soft, just above a whisper.

The girl's head snapped up as if she had just noticed the approaching Scribe.

"My- my name is Cassandra. These are Thomas and Julian."

Thomas and Julian, the two boys, still hadn't turned to look at Haylen. They were still staring at me, eyes just as wide as they had been when I first saw them. Now their faces were more naked curiosity and wonder than fear.

Haylen stopped just in front of us. "It's good to meet you. I'm a Scribe with the Brotherhood of steel. We're here to get you somewhere safe."

Cassandra twisted around to glance up at me before looking back at the short woman. "That's what he said. But I don't know who you are." The guarded, almost accusatory tone was back. I couldn't blame her. If anything, I respected her for it, even if it is just a show.

The Scribe offered a small smile. "That's a long story, but we got rid of the Supermutants here, and we'll do everything we can to help you."

Relative silence settled back over the small house, only the sound of rotors spinning down intruding into the thick blanket of quiet. I couldn't see the young girl's face, but her body was stiff. She was nervous, rightly so, but surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.

"Okay", she said eventually.

Haylen's smile grew. "Good. Let's get you three to one of our transports. We've got some food and water you can have while we wait."

"Wait for what?"

"We're going to take a look around."

After another moment's hesitation, Cassandra nodded.

We walked them out of the house to a waiting Vertibird in the same central square the Supermutants had been eating their latest victims a few minutes ago. Haylen had them close their eyes as we passed the large pile of bodies inside and as well as the collection of dead Supermutants and dismembered bodies. By now the sun was creeping down toward the horizon, casting everything in a pinkish hue.

I stood by the port side door while the Scribe settled them into jump seats and gave them a few MRE's and water. Danse watched me for a moment, but something in my posture must have told him I wasn't moving. He trudged off with another armored soldier, escorting the two other Scribes while the remaining three healthy Brotherhood members maintained a perimeter around the Vertibirds.

Goddamn Supermutants. These things weren't the Covenant. They weren't aliens. They were human, maybe mutated, but they were still human. There are plenty of animals around, but they decided to eat people. And with the number of body parts and bones scattered around the neighborhood, it had been a lot.

The more I thought about it, the more I thought I didn't just want to kill every one of them I came across.

I want to hunt them. I want to exterminate them. Wipe them off of the face of the planet.

Fighting the Brotherhood, eventually, that would be out of necessity. There's certainly some resentment for Fundies, but that was secondary. The same thing applied to Kleo: it was personal, but pragmatic.

Killing the Supermutants wasn't a necessity, at least not wiping them out. No. What they do hits way too close to home. What they do might be worse than what those Kig Yar bastards did.

"Damon?"

The voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I turned to see Cassandra staring at me, eating a pack of crackers.

"Thank you."

Thank you? All I did was…

If I was in their position, I wouldn't think that about me would I? That I just did my 'job'? If there was anything that wasn't just 'doing my job' it's this.

We watched each other for a moment, her still slowly chewing on crackers I know from ample experience are dry enough to soak up a lake. She was so much calmer than I had been. So much more in control. All I remember after the attack was being damn near catatonic.

I was five.

I nodded.

"Where are we going now?"

"Back to t- our base of operation for now."

The young girl paused, clearly struggling with something. She swallowed hard, probably trying to get rid of the rest of that cracker. "Did you- find anyone else?"

I shook my head.

"Oh…" Her face fell and she looked back at the two boys, sitting in the center of the VTOL, talking with Haylen. "Their parents… they were captured too. They were separated and put in with me." Cassandra turned back to me. "I told them everything would be alright." Her eyes were blurry with tears again. "I- I told them we would get out, and they'd see their mom and dad."

More intense, burning anguish mixed with my fury as I watched the girl blink, her tears beginning to stream down her dirty face once again.

I looked from her to Thomas and Julian. They had lost their parents here…

They seemed content, Haylen was doing a good job of occupying them, but if Cassandra hadn't known, they wouldn't either.

"What about you", I asked, meeting the young girl's wet eyes. "Were your parents here?"

She 

Notes:

I'm doing my best to try and mix action in with storytelling. Constant action can be boring, especially if it serves no purpose. I didn't want this situation to feel shoehorned in, but something like this could certainly happen with Supermutants, in fact I would expect it to. It's clearly had an impact on Damon, but at the same time, he's starting to feel more comfortable remembering what happened to him. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you in a few weeks!

Chapter 15: The Best Laid Plans

Notes:

Apologies for not posting last week. To make up for it, I will be putting up another chapter tomorrow. Have you ever thought 'hey that was pretty rough, what I need now is even more depression in my life'? Yeah, that's this chapter. I promise I'm not going for maximum feels here (that will come later), it's just how this part of the story came out. Unfortunately for our main characters, these kids and what happened to them hits awfully close to home. As always, please leave whatever feedback you'd like and enjoy!

As uncomfortable as it was, I stayed with the trio while the Brotherhood searched the neighborhood for- whatever they're looking for. Their situation, this town, what happened here for who the hell knows how long, it was all too analogous. The memories of that day swirled through my head like a tropical storm. The thing that aggravated me most was I had been through this, yet I had nothing I could offer these children besides my protection.

I didn't pay much attention to the soldiers and scribes bustling around the collection of houses. It didn't concern me: at the end of the day, I'm only tagging along for now.

Except that wasn't completely true anymore; whether they knew it or not, Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian were all relying on me. I couldn't let them stay with the Brotherhood. I'd seen, and killed, child soldiers fighting for Innie outfits. That's what these kids would become if the Brotherhood raised them.

They were still searching long after the sun had fallen behind the horizon. It wasn't long after the sky darkened when Cassandra finally told them.

"Hey-", she said before breaking off. Her voice was barely over a whisper. "Hey guys." I turned back. The young girl was kneeling in front of them, face wet with tears once more. Thomas and Julian were looking at her, confused.

"So-", her voice broke again, and I couldn't help the pit in my stomach. "Uhm…" Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and my mind flashed back to the shuttle I evacuated on. It was one of the few emotions I couldn't sympathize with her. I never grieved. As I rode the shuttle up to a freighter, still covered in my mother's blood, I was empty. The only emotion I felt, once my mind began processing them again, was pure, unbridled, burning anger.

But I still felt for her. For the two boys as well.

"Damon", she looked at me, pain so clear on her face and in her deep brown eyes, I could feel it, "Damon didn't find your parents. They didn't survive."

Silence bloomed over the immediate area. It was so complete, even the bustling Brotherhood members barely registered. It wasn't peaceful. It felt like it would flee at any moment, like a dam breaking open and allowing whatever it was holding to flood out. Haylen was staring at the teenager, wide eyed and horrified. For their parts, the two younger kids both looked utterly, and completely blank, like they couldn't register what Cassandra had said. I know how that feels.

"What", Julian asked quietly. "What do you mean?"

"Your mom and dad-" the girl choked out a sob and it was a moment before she managed to find her voice again.

"Your mom and dad are gone."

The silence spread across the five of us once again.

And then it clicked all at once.

There was no preamble, no pleading, no denying, and that may have been the worst part about it.

Julian and Thomas both burst into tears, shattering the thin veil of tranquility in an instant. Cassandra pulled them into a deep embrace, and even Haylen's eyes glistened with tears.

This time, a familiar rage found its way through the wall of painful memories.

It wasn't about my past this time.

The crying slowly faded into quiet sobs as the three of them held each other. The scribe glanced at me a few times, but she didn't know what to do.

Like I do.

The only use I had was keeping them safe. As much as I wished I could offer more.

No more words passed between them as they all mourned. It was odd, like the entire world tilted toward their grief to the point I felt their sorrow past my own.

A decade seemed to pass standing there, guarding the grieving trio, but eventually the rest of the Brotherhood members returned to the Vertibirds and we began the flight back to the Prydwen. I rode with the trio, Haylen, the scribes and Paladin Danse while the other five soldiers loaded into the other VTOL.

The kids stared out of the doors as the darkened city raced by underneath, milky blackness occasionally interrupted by a campfire or the blazing perimeter lights from Diamond City and Goodneighbor. This would definitely be the first time they'd ever ridden in a Vertibird, probably the first time they'd ever been off the ground. Their eyes were as large as they could get and, despite everything, they all gazed at the passing landscape with open astonishment. I guess some things can overcome even that misery. It was an innocence I wish they could keep.

The three of them looked even more surprised when we reached the airport, Prydwen hovering over it, bathed in light from below, with its own powerful spotlights searching the perimeter for any intruders. The Brotherhood had more illumination than Goodneighbor and Diamond City combined, twice over.

Once docked, Haylen led the kids down into the large hangar and off to the starboard side where an infirmary had been set up. I followed behind, despite Danse saying something in objection. I didn't care enough to listen.

Their eyes never stopped flying around the massive room, taking in the technicians and soldiers working on weapons or armor.

The infirmary was equally impressive, with enough room for a dozen genuine hospital beds and at least as many medics. The walls were lined with cabinets, probably full of medical supplies, and at the back, there were even a few machines that looked like primitive life support systems. From what I've seen of this version of Earth, this would have been a high quality medical suite before they blew themselves to hell.

A taller woman with dirty blonde hair tied back, wearing an outfit similar to Haylen's without the tac-vest and armor approached us from the other side of the infirmary. "Scribe Haylen." Her voice was soft, but clipped.

"Hello Scribe Rayna, these are Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian", Haylen replied, motioning to the trio. "They were captives in a Supermutant camp. We'd like to give them a full checkup."

"Of course." The medic smiled at the trio of kids. "Come on, first thing we need to do is get you some new clothes."

I went to follow as Rayna turned to lead them away, but she held out a hand. "Some privacy would be nice."

Every fiber of my body was screaming. I looked down at Cassandra. She was watching me with a worried expression. Was that because she wanted me to come with them or not? They barely know me, but I was the one who found them. And even if they don't know it, I'm the one who wants to keep them safe.

My uncertainty must have come across in my posture because Haylen stepped toward me. "They'll be alright. Rayna is a great doctor."

That wasn't my concern. But what am I going to do? Forcing the issue wouldn't do anyone any good. It isn't like if I let them go here, they'll disappear.

Probably.

I nodded. "I want to know when they're done."

The Scribe squinted at me, but relented after a moment's hesitation. "Okay."

All three were looking at me, Cassandra uncertain, Thomas and Julian on the verge of tears. Could they feel my discomfort? Were they nervous about the Brotherhood? Or am I overthinking this, and they're just kids who watched their world torn apart a few days ago? I don't know; I barely remember how I felt, or acted afterward.

Standing there awkwardly with the five of them staring at me wasn't going to get anyone anywhere. "I'll be around. Come find me afterward."

My legs were carrying me back toward the infirmary entrance before I knew what was happening, or before any of them could respond. I could feel their collective gaze on my back as I walked. I didn't know where I was going, probably to find Nate, but I couldn't stay there. I wouldn't leave if I did.

A pair of armored Brotherhood soldiers were waiting for me outside, but I barely noticed them as I walked by. This was a new kind of anger… maybe not new, but one I hadn't felt like this in a long time. It was the same anger that drove me to join the SPARTAN III program. The same anger that drove me to my breaking point over and over and over again during training. The same anger I took out on my first Sangheili. But I'd gone numb to it over the last half decade.

It was back now, in a way I didn't understand. Mine, I could do something about my situation. But these kids, I couldn't do a goddamn thing for them. I know what they've been through, and yet all I could do was say 'come find me when you're done'? I know what other people are probably going through as I sit on my ass up here.

I know what I have to do to stop it, but I'm not doing it.

I didn't do it much before either; I fought more Insurrectionists than Covenant. So what's different now?

That was easy: I'm not just seeing it this time. And I don't understand that either, but it is different. Right now, I'm not angry at the Covenant for what they did to me, I'm pissed off at the Supermutants for what they did to those kids.

"Hey!"

My head whipped around toward the shout. It was Nate. He was trudging toward me in his new suit of power armor.

"I heard you were on an op with Danse." He stopped in front of me, a mixture of excitement and concern on his face. "In a day or so I might be good enough in this thing to help out."

His sarcasm did nothing to help my mood. After what I just saw, the last thing I needed was his jokes. But the ex-soldier didn't know what happened.

Nate must have realized something was wrong when I stared at him without response for what was probably an uncomfortably long time. He looked at the two Brotherhood soldiers effectively standing guard behind me, amusement draining from his expression.

"Did something happen?"

Did something happen… Yeah, something fucking happened.

"Yes."

The ex-soldier's eyes narrowed. "Did something like Goodneighbor happen?"

My hands balled so tightly I could feel the muscles in my forearms strain with effort. Why the hell had I wanted to find Nate? He seemed to be doing just fine without me.

I brushed by him and headed up the stairs, out of the massive, bustling room. The last thing I needed was to be around a few hundred people I didn't know and would probably be trying to kill soon enough.

Once I got out into the docking area, I paused to take a few deep breaths. My 'escorts' were still just a few paces away, and while that aggravated me under the best circumstances, now it was putting me on an edge I didn't trust myself to not fall over. I don't think I'd do anything stupid, but I didn't know, and that made me even more uncomfortable.

"I need some space", I said, turning to them. They were both standing just outside the bulkhead door.

"Sorry, we have our orders", one of soldiers replied. From the voice I'd guess it was Carter. I could feel their eyes drilling into me from behind their small eyepieces.

And that irritated me even more. It seemed like everything was at this point.

"What am I going to do out here? Jump? Give me a few goddamn minutes alone." If these two were Carter and Grant, they knew exactly why I wanted some time on my own. They might not understand why I was so upset, but they didn't need to.

Would I leave me alone in this situation?

I don't care what I would do in this situation, they aren't me.

"Fine", Carter relented, eventually, "but stay in sight of the door, and don't go near any of our birds."

My eyes rolled almost involuntarily. And what would I do with a Vertibird? I don't know how to fly one. Whatever.

I stalked away while the two armored soldiers remained by the door. There wasn't anywhere to go, really, the far end of the docks was maybe 50 meters away, but I needed to be somewhere away from people. I didn't know what I was going to do with that space, but I couldn't sort this mess out with the constant pandemonium down in that damn hangar.

Without many places to go, I found myself standing in an empty docking station, leaning over, hands grasping the railing in front of me. The last few weeks have been far too chaotic. Being thrown into a completely unknown and ridiculous situation, that was SOP, but all these memories and emotions... I needed to get back under control. I couldn't keep going like this if I wanted to maintain any semblance of operation viability.

But then I think about the Supermutants and my logic goes out the window.

I have to remember why I'm here: get to the Institute, find out if I can get back to the UNSC. If there's time to deal with the Supermutants, I can do that along the way. Fighting the Brotherhood is more likely since they're at odds with the Institute.

… Dammit. Goddammit. I wish I could justify going after the Supermutants. I can, morally, but morality has never been my purview. It doesn't progress mission objective.

The sound of the bulkhead door clanging open reached me, and hushed voices followed a moment later. Then came the heavy thuds of someone in their ungainly power armor approaching me. The slow, unsteady cadence wasn't what I'd come to expect from the Brotherhood soldiers. That meant this was probably Nate.

A quick glance confirmed it was the ex-soldier. Great. The guy who has a habit of digging up memories I'd rather keep buried is the perfect person to be around when I'm trying to get my head back on straight. Again.

He stopped next to me, but instead of saying anything, which is what I expected, he followed my gaze into the darkness, looking out over the outline of a destroyed Boston skyline. We stood there for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the bustling ground forces below. I couldn't feel it, but I could imagine the crisp night air.

Eventually, the quiet was too much for Nate to take.

"Haylen told me."

I nodded.

"She didn't say as much since she doesn't know, I'm guessing, but it sounded a lot like what happened to you."

"Yes", I replied through a sigh.

The ex-soldier paused for a moment before continuing. "I'm sorry for joking around back there."

I nodded again.

"So what do you want to do? With those kids I mean. I take it you don't want them here."

"No. This place would only make things worse."

"We could try to get them to Diamond City, but we don't know anyone there. Well, except for Nick and Ellie, but I don't think they'd be able to look after them."

That was a good question. I'd only thought about getting the three of them away from the Brotherhood and their fanaticism, but where would they go?

"How about Sanctuary? You think they'd take the kids?"

I met his gaze for a moment before turning back to the darkened city. "Sanctuary?"

I saw him nod out of my periphery. "It would be a pretty long hump, but we know them, and they seem like good people."

"Hmm." I leaned on the railing again. "I doubt the Brotherhood would let us take them. And I don't want to lead these people there."

"Yeah well…" The ex-soldier paused. I glanced at him; his face was contorted in a grimace. "I think about those kids, and I see Shaun. I couldn't let him grow up in a place like this. Plus, I understand why you don't want them here either." He met my eyes. "We'll figure something out."

We stood in relative silence for a while. I tried to come up with a strategy to get the three kids away from the Brotherhood, but I couldn't think of any that wouldn't involve a lot of shooting and put them and Nate at risk.

There was nothing we could offer outside of manpower, and that wasn't a bargaining chip; they expected that. The Brotherhood clearly wasn't hurting for resources, and any army always needs more people. Sharing information on the Institute was out of the question as well. I had no reason to protect them beyond what they could offer, but I'd be damned if I gave the Brotherhood a leg up on anyone. Except Supermutants.

"I have an idea", Nate said, after what must have been a record long silence. "I need to talk with Maxson though." He glanced at me. "It would probably be better if you weren't there."

As much as I wanted to argue, I knew exactly why he suggested that. And I agreed.

"What?"

"Classic public relations." He smirked. "The Brotherhood wants people to stay out of their way so they can go after the Institute. Well, people around here already distrust Synths and such, so the Brotherhood is starting out on the right foot. Add in the story about their soldiers bravely marching into a Supermutant settlement, wiping those bastards out, and saving a few innocent children ready to be slaughtered? Hell people will practically throw themselves into the fight to help."

I cocked my head. I think you're getting ahead of yourself.

The ex-soldier chuckled. "Okay, that might be a bit much, but it would be a good start."

"Getting them to Sanctuary without the Brotherhood interfering will be difficult."

"Yeah", the soldier's armor moved in a rough approximation of a shrug, "I'll leave that up to you, it is your area of expertise."

No, my area of expertise is killing people, as you keep reminding me. But yes, I can figure something out.

Before I could respond, the low groan of the bulkhead door signalled someone else coming out onto the docks. I turned back to see Thomas and Julian emerge, closely followed by Haylen and Cassandra. Grant and Carter, still standing guard at the entrance, stopped them and began talking with Haylen. The three kids look like they'd showered and were in the same orange jumpsuits most of the techs in the hangar had been wearing.

My jaw clenched. I could imagine them being lectured about why the Brotherhood was righteous and the ultimate force for good. I could see them being trained to fight, and kill the enemies of a militia that only saw them as a means to an end. Those jumpsuits were a clear declaration of what the Brotherhood had in mind for them. I'd seen enough of it to know how this goes.

After a few moments of quiet conversation, the armored soldiers allowed them to pass. The two young boys hurried over, wide eyes locked on me. I didn't know what to think, watching them. I was glad I'd found them, but what happens to the kids now? There were so many possibilities, I couldn't even begin to imagine what comes next.

But I know what can happen.

I knelt to greet them as the two ran up to us. They stopped just outside of arm's reach, both looking excited, but unsure. Thomas, who now that I looked was probably the younger of the two, half hid behind his brother. Both were about the same size, with dark brown hair and round, still puffy faces.

Julian's eyes dropped to the ground for a moment before looking back up at me. "Cassandra said we should thank you for saving us." His voice was quiet and a little nasally, which was probably from all of the crying.

No response came to mind. My chest felt like it had been put in a press and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't bring myself to just say 'your welcome' again.

But Nate came to my rescue. "Damon isn't good at these sorts of things. He's happy he was able to. The big guy makes a habit out of helping people; he's saved me a bunch too."

I cocked an eyebrow. It was true, I'd dragged the ex-soldier through a half dozen situations that would have gotten him killed otherwise, but that wasn't how he'd seen it at the time.

Cassandra stopped behind the two boys; she looked much better. Her hair was clean and tied back, face no longer covered in dirt and dried blood, and the teenager held herself upright and relaxed.

"This place is incredible."

That's one word for it.

"Yes."

She looked from me to Nate and back. "So what's next? They wouldn't say what's going to happen to us."

"That depends", I replied, standing. "There's a settlement, Sanctuary, that can take you in, but we have to clear it with command."

Cassandra frowned. "You can't take care of us? It seems like there's enough people and supplies around here for three kids."

You don't want them to. To her credit, the girl was asking the right questions. It was interesting considering she's less than four hours removed from almost being slaughtered.

"The Brotherhood could, but there are better options. For you."

"I thought you said you'd protect us as long as you were able to." Her voice wasn't accusing, but it was close.

How did I say this without saying it? Could I count on them staying quiet if I told them?

"This is part of him doing that", Nate answered for me. "The Brotherhood isn't a good place for you; it's going to get dangerous very quickly and the last thing we want is for you to get caught up in that."

"And who are you?"

"Oh, sorry", the ex-soldier smiled, "I'm Nate. We've been travelling together for a while now."

"Were you there at the-" she paused, voice wavering ever so slightly. "Did you help kill the Supermutants?"

He shook his head. "No, I was back here learning how to use this." He motioned to himself and his armor.

"Wait, are you new?"

"Yes."

Cassandra looked at me again. "And he said you've been travelling together for a while?" I nodded. A smile crept across my face. She's sharp.

"That explains why your armor looks different", she muttered. "So you're new here. Why should I trust you any more than them? Rayna said they'd make space for us."

I glanced down at the two younger kids. I couldn't explain anything to them without risking it getting back to the other Brotherhood members. Cassandra might be able to keep it under wraps, but Thomas and Julian would probably blurt it out to the first person they could talk to.

So maybe I take a minute to talk with Cassandra.

"Nate", I said, turning to the ex-soldier, "do you know where the mess is?"

The ex-soldier arched an eyebrow but nodded. I motioned my head at the two boys and he made the connection.

"Come on guys, I need to get out of this, and I'm hungry. You want to grab something to eat too?"

"No", the teenager barked before either could respond. "We're-"

Nate offered a gentle smile. "It's okay, I understand." His voice carried something strange. I'd heard it a few times, but I couldn't place it. "I'm out here doing everything I can to find my son. I know how much staying together means, but we're here to help you. I promise." Was it pain?

Cassandra faltered again. "Your son?"

"Yes. He was kidnapped. I want nothing more than to see him again. To know he's safe and happy. Knowing what happened to you, I know if there's someone out there looking for you, they want the same." The smaller man hesitated a moment. "And I can tell you Damon", he motioned to me, "has more reason than anyone else to help. If you can trust anyone about this, trust him."

My past isn't your story to tell. I glared at the ex-soldier, but he pointedly ignored it.

The teenager looked from him to me. "Why?"

"I'll leave that up to him to say, but you two should have a talk." He looked back down at Thomas and Julian. "Let's grab some food."

They both looked to Cassandra. She still seemed unsure, but after a few heartbeats of silence, she knelt and hugged them. "Go with him, I'll come find you in a bit, okay?"

"Are you sure", Julian asked.

She glanced up at me, then Nate. "Yeah. Plus, I'm sure if anything happens you can take care of your brother, right?"

The young boy smiled. "Yeah."

"Good." She let them go and stood. "Don't let them run off, okay? They like to… explore."

The ex-soldier nodded. "I'll never leave their side."

"Okay then." The teenager took a deep breath and turned to me. "Let's talk."

I waited a moment as Nate trudged away with Thomas and Julian. Why had he brought up my childhood? The attack? It wasn't his place, and now Cassandra would be curious.

"So", she said as they disappeared through the door to the airship's interior, "what don't you want the rest of the Brotherhood to hear? Aren't you with them?"

"They're going to turn you into child soldiers."

The girl scoffed. "We've all had to fight."

"Fighting for survival and fighting a war aren't the same thing. These people are fanatics. I don't want to see you, Thomas, and Julian indoctrinated."

Her eyes narrowed. "So why did you join them?"

"To help Nate find his son." Explaining I needed to get to the Institute for my own reasons would probably only make things worse.

"Uh huh." Silence settled back over us as she studied me. I couldn't tell what she was thinking, but I didn't blame her for being hesitant. Outside of finding them, she had no reason to trust me.

"Your friend said you want to help us more than anyone else. Why?"

… And there it is. Goddammit Nate.

"Because I know what you're going through."

The teenager blinked slowly. "What do you mean? That happened to you too?"

Now it was my turn to hesitate. What am I supposed to say? Besides not wanting to deal with the inevitable questions that would follow whatever I told her… sharing that with someone again didn't feel right. The images flashed through my head once again, too many of them looking like what I'd seen in that town.

"Something like that."

"What happened to you afterward?" She sounded worried.

"I was trained to fight. I became a soldier." A child soldier. It was odd… when I told Valentine and Nate what happened to me, I didn't bat an eye about what ONI had done. Sure I was trained to be a weapon from five, but that was because we were fighting a war of extermination, and I had nothing left. What makes these kids different? They've lost everything, Cassandra twice. Now they were on their own, and the Brotherhood, sans their war with the Institute, would undoubtedly be their best chance for survival. If they were going to live in the destroyed wasteland that had been Boston, they'd be at risk of something like that happening again.

But the thought of them being brainwashed to dogmatically follow the Brotherhood's directives, whatever they may be at the time, made me angry.

That's the difference isn't it? I didn't need brainwashing. I hated the Covenant. No one had to tell me they were the bad guys.

"By who", Cassandra asked.

"A group you haven't heard of. It isn't important. You, Thomas, and Julian can't stay here."

"And can you promise we'll be safe wherever you take us?"

I shook my head. "No, but I can promise if you stay here they'll conscript you, force you to fight, and use you until you're broken or dead."

"Is that what happened to you?"

What? Is that what happened to me? No- I'm still fighting, and I doubt that's going to end anytime soon.

That doesn't answer the question.

My well-being isn't the issue right now.

"No, but I've seen it."

Cassandra fell quiet once again. She turned to look out over the broken city, tapping a hand against her thigh. I could almost see the dilemma playing out across her face; she didn't know who to trust, or what to do. The only thing she had left was keeping Thomas and Julian safe. It was a lot for someone that young.

I say that like I'm not around the same age.

Yeah, if only that were all that mattered.

And do I know what she's been through?

"I don't know what to do", Cassandra finally said. "I don't want to believe you, I want to stay here. This place feels… safe." She looked up at me. "I can't think of any reason you'd lie though. And you two sound too sad to be making this stuff up." The young girl paused again, taking a deep breath. "What do I do?"

"I can't make that decision for you, but if you want the best chance, you'll listen to me."

She chewed on her lower lip, gaze never leaving my visor, eyes meeting mine through the reflective nanolaminate.

"Okay. Okay. I'll trust you."

A wave of relief washed over me, and I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

I nodded. "Good."

Cassandra smiled. "Can we get some food too? I'm hungry and I don't want to think about the trouble those two are getting into without me."

While the others stayed in the mess, I found a quiet corner to eat. I wasn't going to take my helmet off around these people. That led to another issue: I hadn't slept in two days. It wasn't the first time, nor was it the longest, but I would rather not hump across a heavily irradiated wasteland with animals named 'Deathclaws' wandering around while running on fumes. Since it would take at least two days to make the trip, and I probably wouldn't be sleeping until we were done, I needed to get some shut eye. All of that is assuming we won't be escorting the kids to Sanctuary beforehand.

When I returned to the mess, Nate was still sitting at one of the tables with Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian. He was deep in conversation with them; from the pieces I caught as I entered, he was talking about our 'adventure' so far. Other than the four of them, there weren't many people eating, which made sense considering it was past midnight. A small group of Brotherhood soldiers were tucked into the opposite corner. Each of them watched me as I entered. It wasn't the same gawking stares most people who see a SPARTAN for the first time have.

"Holy crap", Cassandra said as I approached the table, "you killed Kellogg?"

I glanced at the ex-soldier who responded with a shrug.

She knows who Kellogg was? "Yes."

"I've heard so many stories about him, the guy was every small settlement's boogeyman." She sounded amazed. "It was like the guy was invincible or something, no one thought he'd ever go away." The teenager looked back at Nate. "And you fought your way into the Triggermen's vault too? I don't know as much about them, but I do know they were one of the bigger organized gangs around here. Even the folks in Goodneighbor didn't want to mess with them after they set up shop there."

"Yeah", I asked, turning to my companion, "what else have you been talking about?" I already have enough people looking for me, I don't need these rumors spreading around any faster than they already will.

Cassandra smiled. "That you also broke into Goodneighbor."

"Goddammit", I muttered under my breath.

It must have been loud enough for Nate to hear because the smaller man offered me a sheepish smile. "What can I say? She's good at asking questions."

That doesn't mean you need to answer them.

"Besides, outside of Kellogg, it seems like people would probably already know most of what you've done. Gotta say, they make for some pretty- interesting stories."

I can't wait to hear the insane spin Thomas and Julian come up with. Kids have some… adventurous imaginations.

"I need to sleep, did they give you quarters?"

Nate gave Cassandra an exaggerated eye roll. "See what I mean?"

What do you mean? I cocked my head.

"Oh lighten up, it's a joke. Yes, we have temporary quarters until they clear a spot for us in the airport." The ex-soldier stood, followed by the three kids. "It will be a bit cramped for all of us, but it'll work for a night or two."

We followed him out of the mess, down to the workshop that was still bustling with activity, and into a small room tucked into the aft, starboard corner. Inside was maybe 4 meters square with two cots lined next to each other on the far wall and not much else. I wouldn't be using the beds, so the others could figure that situation out.

I sat, sniper rifle across my lap, back propped against the wall opposite from the bulkhead door, as the four of them got settled. It was as much to put a bullet through the Brotherhood power armor as it was to keep from damaging the weapon. I still don't know if it will, that armor plate is pretty damn thick. Tomorrow would be… educational, both to see if Nate was good enough to get the kids out of here without having to resort to more direct methods, and what those direct methods might be. I still hadn't given much thought to how we would get them to Sanctuary without a Brotherhood tail. That could wait until the morning, right now shut eye is more important.

The sleep wasn't exactly peaceful. It was difficult to fall asleep completely with how restless Thomas and Julian were. I couldn't blame them, they'd been through- well they'd experienced something that breaks people. I know better than most. So I settled for a close approximation of sleep.

But the images of the attack, my attack still managed to find their way in.

This time I was standing with the only survivors, three other kids, all of them a few years older than me, in the middle of what had been my living room. Now it was covered in blood and body parts. It looked a lot like the house I'd found these three in. I was shaking uncontrollably, staring at the floor, standing in a pool of- someone's blood, it was impossible to tell anymore. There was no knowing what the Covenant were going to do with us. Would they butcher the four of us? Was I going to feel teeth bite into my neck, like my mother had as she died screaming? It's something I wouldn't think five year old me would have to worry about, even now, after everything I'd seen the Covenant do. After everything I'd done. I stood there, trembling, terrified, not knowing what to-

I jolted awake, grabbing for the sniper-

Only to see Julian scrambling away from me.

Shit.

I stopped myself and held my hands out to my sides. The others were all still asleep.

"Sorry", I whispered.

"I- I didn't mean to scare you." The boy sounded terrified.

"It's fine."

Julian hesitated a moment, staring at me with dinner plate sized eyes. "Were you having a bad dream?"

A bad dream? You could say that but… "Why?"

He pointed at my lap. "Your hands kept moving."

I cocked my head. "Were you watching me?"

He nodded sheepishly. The poor kid looked so scared I couldn't feel anything but awkward.

"You could say that."

"What was it about?"

It was my turn to hesitate.

What harm is there in telling him?

He starts spewing it to everyone he comes across. That's my past. No one else needs to know it.

Nate and Valentine know it.

Those were different circumstances.

I know what he's feeling right now, I know what he's thinking, that he doesn't have a future, that he's going to die too. He needs to know there's going to be a tomorrow, no matter how difficult that might be.

What, did ONI train me in psychology instead of combat?

No, but there is no shrink here, just me. He doesn't need someone to fight right now, he needs someone to help him.

And that's me?

More than anyone else.

But am I the right person to help him? I mean… I never took the time to come to terms with what happened to me, how am I supposed to do that for him?

By trying.

"I…" I trailed off before I could start. What do I want to say? What would have helped me?

"I- my home was attacked when I was a little younger than you. I lost everyone I knew. Including my parents. I was dreaming about that."

"Oh…" The boy's face fell.

Good fucking job.

"I know how you feel and… as hard as it is right now", I paused. Can I say this when I never did it?

No time like the present.

"As hard as it is right now, you can still…" Be happy? Be safe?

"You can still keep living. I'll help you guys however I can, but you need to know you can still keep living."

Julian slowly looked back up at me, eyes glistening. He sucked in a breath, and in the next instant, a sob exploded out. The young boy stumbled toward me, tripping over the large rifle in my lap. I caught him to keep the kid from breaking his nose against my chest plate, but he didn't seem to notice. He wrapped his arms around my neck and began crying quietly into the side of my helmet.

A new memory flashed through my mind. This time, I was laying in my bunk shortly after beginning the SPARTAN III program. I had the incredibly itchy wool blanket pulled up over my head. I was crying into my pillow. I cried for hours. I didn't know how long it had been, but I dimly remember hearing footsteps around me. They weren't the loud, pounding boots of one of the DI's, but the patter of bare feet. Someone pulled the blanket off and I turned over to see a half dozen other recruits standing over my bunk, looking down at me.

One, a girl, maybe a year older, put her hand on my shoulder. She said something as she did. After a minute or two, I slipped out of the bed and sat on the floor with them. We didn't talk. We all sat in the dark silence. None of us knew what time it was and all of us were exhausted. We knew the next day would be just as bad, but that didn't matter. No one needed to say anything; we were all victims of the War, and we all knew what the others had been through.

When Mendez swung the door open and flipped the lights in the barracks on, he saw us, but didn't say anything about it.

"Time to get started", he barked, "if you ladies aren't outside with those bright, glowing faces after all this sleep in five, you'll be running double for warm up!"

I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and the DI's pushed us hard that day.

But it was the easiest day I had during training. Now that I think about it, that was the first time I felt like I wasn't alone there. One of the only times.

Pushing the memory away, I took a deep breath. That was then, what's important is now.

I set the sniper rifle on the ground next to me and placed a hand on the crying child's back. The only thing I could think to say was what that other trainee had.

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

After a half hour of quiet sobbing, Julian fell asleep again. I gently pulled his arms from around my neck and carried him back to the cot he was sharing with Thomas. He was so small, barely more than an arm's length, but what he'd seen… had I been like this? I was even younger than him when the Covenant attacked.

I placed him back on the cot with his brother and paused to look down at the two young boys. This all hit too damn close to home. I didn't know what to do with the emotions these memories keep bringing back, but I couldn't put them away. At least not as well as I used to.

Maybe this was always going to happen at some point. It just happened to be here.

Yeah, maybe.

As I turned to walk back to my spot on the wall, I realized Nate's eyes were open, and he was watching me with an expression I hadn't seen before.

Oh great.

I slid back into my sitting position and glared at the ex-soldier.

"What", I whispered.

He sat up, ignoring my irritation. "That's something I never thought I'd see from you."

Neither did I.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, it's hard to reconcile the image I have of you in my head, tearing people apart, with watching you treat him so… carefully." My companion offered a sad smile. "I don't think anyone else could have said what you did with that kind of emotion."

"Emotion?"

"Yeah. I've never heard anyone sound so- oh- matter of fact? Sincere?" He chuckled quietly. "You don't know how to say anything besides what's on your mind, as annoying as that can be at times, and it came out there in a way I never expected. It was really good."

It was? Only time will tell. "We'll see."

I rested my head against the wall and did my best to clear my mind. Maybe I could get a few more hours of my approximation of sleep.

The docks were too busy, so I stayed in the small room to eat while the others went to the mess. Once they were done, Nate brought them back before leaving to talk with Maxson. By that point, I'd spent the better part of 6 hours in that cramped room. The thought of sitting in there until the ex-soldier had an answer was enough to get me past my aversion to associating with the Brotherhood.

"Come with me", I said to the trio of kids as I stood, slipping the sling for my new combat rifle over my neck, and the large caliber sniper across my back. The aluminum frame meant I couldn't use the mag clamp.

Cassandra looked up from Thomas who she was playing with. "Where are we going."

"Nate will be a while, I want to have a look around."

"A look around?" The girl looked confused. "What do you mean."

I sighed. Why does everyone question everything? "The base below."

"You really are new."

"Yes."

She shrugged. "Come on guys, let's go have a look."

We left the room and entered the deluge of bustling technicians, servicing, repairing, and even building equipment. I scanned the bay, looking for Proctor Ingram, and eventually found the armored woman working talking with a group of Scribes in front of several suits of T-60 on the far side.

"Hello Damon", she said as we approached, "what can I do for you?" The question was hurried, but her voice was polite.

"I'd like to take a look at the airport."

Ingram frowned. "Can I ask why?"

"If I'm going to work with you, I'd like to know what resources I'll have access to." It wasn't the best excuse, but it was reasonable enough.

"I can give you a rundown."

I shook my head. "I prefer having eyes on."

"I see." She shrugged. "I can understand that. Give me a few minutes, I need to finish something up here and I'll give you a tour." The Proctor looked down at the kids standing next to me. "Are they coming too?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm glad to show you around too, if you're going to be staying with us." She smiled.

Shit. I glanced down at Cassandra, but she only nodded back up at Ingram.

"Wait up on deck, I'll be there after I'm done and get a driver to take us down."

The few minutes we waited for the Proctor to finish her work were… uncomfortable. The only things I had to focus on were yesterday's events and the Brotherhood. While I would enjoy planning how to take them apart, right now my thoughts were more focused on the kids.

Eventually she joined us on deck and soon after we were in a Vertibird heading toward the airport's main building. I don't know much about mid 21st century aviation, but I know the basics of fluid dynamics (important when you're planning how to blow something up). With the very old engine and wing technology they would have had access to, their planes would have needed a long approach to get airborne.

That knowledge didn't prepare me for how truly massive the airport would be. The size was difficult to judge from the air, but it was easily more than a kilometer square. The broken tarmac, accommodating several scrap piles that used to be planes, took up most of it, but the Brotherhood had claimed a large portion of the less cluttered areas as well as the terminals.

Their operation here was impressive. It was enough to support several thousand soldiers and support staff along with equipment and aircraft. This fight will be more fun than I thought.

The Vertibird set down near the main building and Proctor Ingram began the tour. It started in their vehicle pool, half of which was in a large hangar, with around 60 Vertibirds and a full maintenance staff. There were no ground vehicles. Was that because they weren't able to transport them here, or they didn't have access to any?

Our tour guide shrugged at the question. "It was too difficult to transport them with us. The Prydwen is an impressive machine, but with the amount of equipment and supplies we have, it wasn't feasible to bring any ground transports."

Ingram led us through an adjacent hangar that looked like it served as an expansion of the main level on the Prydwen. When I asked, she explained everything that happened on the airship was either critical work or R&D. Anything going on down here is general maintenance and upkeep. With the amount of equipment in the bay, the Brotherhood would be able to support a protracted battle with a respectable standing force. Any group in the area that engaged them in a conventional battle would lose. Badly.

Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian were staring at everything in wide-eyed wonder. It was almost the same look they had the night prior while we were on approach in the Vertibird. I doubt they've ever seen infrastructure like this.

The Proctor led us through the barracks, and mess, but stopped short of taking us to the hangars on the opposite side of the tarmac.

"Sorry", she said, "but everything going on over there is need to know only. Most of the ground pounders down here don't know about it either, so don't feel left out."

On the contrary, knowing there is something over there is more than enough. It was certainly a strange experience to be given a walkthrough of a soon to be enemy's base of operations by said enemy.

By the time we were done, the sun was well on its way to noon. As we flew back to the Prydwen's docking station, my mind was already forming plans for destabilizing their operation here. Unfortunately, they had no supply line since all of their resources were here. That meant it would be very difficult to starve them out; there were no weak points to hit or supply bottlenecks to clog. On the other hand though, it meant their supplies were largely limited to what they had brought with them. If I could destroy those, they go from a well equipped, cohesive fighting force to a relatively well trained version of everyone else. That's still dangerous, but a lot easier to deal with. Of course, this is all provided they don't establish some form of infrastructure in the area which, if they were smart, they would.

I caught sight of Nate as the Vertibird made its docking approach. He was standing at the door in his new armor and I didn't need any form of magnification to see he was pissed off. As soon as the VTOL settled into the docking clamps and its rotors began spinning down, the ex-soldier was thudding his way toward us.

"Take a field trip without me", he asked incredulously while I climbed down to the walkway.

"Tour of their facilities."

"I see."

I couldn't tell if he was upset about being left behind or not. If the ex-soldier was, he could shove it.

He glanced at the trio exiting the Vertibird behind me. "We need to talk."

So the meeting didn't go well then.

I nodded.

We waited until Proctor Ingram took her leave and headed back inside, followed by the pilot, before Nate turned to Cassandra.

"Can you wait by the door for a few minutes?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Is this about us?"

"Some of it."

"Then I want to hear it."

The armored man shook his head. "The fewer people who know about our… plans the better. I'm not saying this about you specifically."

She glanced between Nate and I. The teenager looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment she relented. "Fine."

As she took the two brothers toward the door, the ex-soldier turned back to me and cleared his throat. "So a tour."

No. I'm not playing this. "What did Maxson say?"

He huffed, annoyed. "They'll let us take them, provided we seed that 'heroic justice' story I was talking about. We can't do it now though."

"Why?"

"They want us to find the Institute first."

That isn't what I wanted to hear. "He wants us to report back on them."

The smaller man nodded. "We're supposed to be informants. Once we've made contact, we can move the kids off base."

So Maxson was trying to get as much leverage as he could. He knew I wanted to get those three away from here, so he has something he can lean against. Once we began feeding him information about the Institute, he would be able to destroy that relationship at any time, whatever that looks like. The Elder couldn't know why I wanted to get in touch with them, but he knew if he had some control over it, he had limited control over me.

This type of backstabbing wasn't my style, but the strategies the Brotherhood leader was using were much closer to something I'm comfortable with. Oh, I can play this game too, Maxson.

"When are we leaving?"

Nate looked shocked. "Wait, you're okay with this?"

I shrugged. "Maxson is being cautious; he doesn't trust us. We need to do this carefully."

"You're fine with leaving them here?"

My gaze shifted to the trio sitting by the door, still wearing their orange and white jumpsuits. I hated leaving them there. As much as I didn't want to let the Brotherhood anywhere near those kids while I wasn't around I had to be realistic: they wouldn't do anything to them in the few days we'll be gone. Maxson still wants my cooperation, and no matter how fanatical the man is, he's also intelligent and manipulative. The Elder wants to think he's in control of the situation. I'll let him think he has a trump card.

"No, but that doesn't matter. They'll be fine as long as we operate by their rules."

"What?" The ex-soldier blinked slowly. "What if- oh. You really think they want you that bad, huh?"

"It wouldn't make sense to risk an asset over a few kids."

The smaller man fell silent. Cassandra wouldn't be any happier about this than either of us, but our only option is to play this slow.

"Son of a bitch", Nate spat. "Alright. Maxson said they could have someone fly us to the edge of the Glowing Sea whenever we're ready, but the area itself is a no fly zone. The electromagnetic interference and constant, I think he called them Rad Storms, make it damn near impossible to get through, apparently."

I wanted to get moving ASAP, but there was no way the ex-soldier would be useful in that armor after a day and a half of training. "How long until you're combat ready?"

He nodded. "I can go now if you want." He motioned to himself. "This thing is easy to use."

I cocked my head at the smaller man. "Really…"

Nate shot me a glare. "Of course, why would I lie?"

Because you're in a rush to get your son back? I held his gaze until the ex-soldier relented.

"I'm good to go, I just need real practice and I won't be getting that standing around here." He turned to look back at the trio; Cassandra was watching us closely. "And I want all of this over with."

X

The Glowing Sea was an interesting choice of name, I probably would have just called it 'Hell'. As our Vertibird approached the southern edge of Boston, the buildings progressively grew more sparse. It wasn't because the area wasn't as densely developed; the structures were turned into rubble and vitrified glass by the nuclear strike. Nothing aside from rolling hills and the occasional pile of rubble obstructed the horizon east to west as far as I could see from the VTOL. It reminded me of a planet I'd deployed on in the Gliese 221 system a few years after the War ended, except this wasn't a planet 60 light years away. This is Earth. What ground wasn't covered by glass was broken and sickly looking. The numerous pools of water scattered around the area had a horrible shade of brownish orange, and the air was thick with haze.

Yeah, 'Hell' describes this place perfectly.

I checked my weapons one more time. Proctor Teagan had given me a MOLLE satchel carrying enough ammo to keep both rifles fed for the trip and then some along with several MRE's and a large canteen. The bag was larger than the one I'd left Sanctuary with, but I was able to arrange it so my large caliber rifle was still accessible. Another, smaller bag was hanging from my left shoulder. It was a short range radio transmitter we'd used to call in for pickup once we were out of the no-fly zone.

Nate was standing behind me, helmet on and looking back toward the city. He had several pouches strapped to his armor's thighs and one over his left side, just below the chest plate. I hadn't seen that type of kit on any of the soldiers we'd seen, but with the amount of ammo and medical supplies he was packing, it was necessary. They'd offered him one of their laser rifles, but the ex-soldier opted for one of the 7.62X51 mm combat rifles I had. Apparently it was similar to the service weapon he had while he was active duty.

Cassandra hadn't been happy when Nate told her what we were doing, but it was our only option. That still irritated me. Maybe not as much as it had a few days ago, but I still chafed under the idea I had to go along with these people's orders for the time being. I couldn't complain about it though, I'd chosen to tie myself to the armored man behind me and the three kids.

Besides, I was beginning to enjoy myself. It wasn't the same as my normal… enthusiasm. I know how to play the game Maxson is dragging me into, but I've never done it. My SOP is much more direct. This is a slow burn, and the thought of lure someone, or in this case an entire militia, along was exhilarating. Almost as much as the idea that they're trying to do the same to me.

Our ride set down in a barren parking lot just north of where the pilot said their no-fly zone began. As we dismounted, I felt the ground give ever so slightly under the weight of my armor. The dirt beneath the lot's asphalt was oddly spongy, like it was more air or water than solid land. If I'd thought everything looked brown before, the Glowing Sea took that to an entirely new height, while taking the liberty of adding an unhealthy green tinge to it.

The Vertibird lifted off as soon as we had our boots in the dirt and circled once before heading back north toward the airport.

"Well this place looks inviting", Nate quipped as the pounding rotors faded in the distance. His voice was distorted through whatever ancient speaker system that suit used.

I nodded my agreement. It was even more bleak than the rest of this damn place.

After finding an alcove in what looked like the remains of a house to stash the transmitter, we began our journey into the foreboding hellscape of irradiated pools and whatever strange life was waiting for us.

Notes:

So that kinda sucked, right? Just because of the way I write, these kids weren't actually even in the story until the chapter before they were introduced. Once I thought of the idea and put it down in writing, I liked how it started and continued rolling with it. I hope the start of this story element is up to your guys' expectations, it changes some stuff down the road for our favorite SPARTAN too. Oh, as a quick side note, we are now officially the largest Halo/Fallout x-over (by length), so again, thanks so much for all the support. Anyways, I'll see everybody next time!

Chapter 16: Into the Breach

Notes:

Well hellooooo and here we are again with the latest installment of our journey across time and realities. I'm trying to keep things focused as best as I can, but there are enough elements involved now and... it's becoming difficult; we've got the BOS, Gunners, Institute, both MCs' personal objectives (and issues), Kleo, Sanctuary, and now the kids. I feel like I'm doing okay thus far by keeping them chronologically consistent (and of course it makes sense to me since I'm the one writing the damn story), but if you all feel like something is getting lost in the shuffle, let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy, and leave your feedback!

As much as I wanted to draw parallels between some of the glassed planets I'd been on and the Glowing Sea, I couldn't. Aside from this being on Earth, the heavily irradiated detonation zone was a completely different kind of foreboding. The scale was different, obviously, this was only a couple hundred square kilometers, the Covenant glassed worlds, but plasma bombardment was much… cleaner. The powerful ventral beams on every large Covenant warship destroyed and sterilized everything before melting it down into molten metal and rock which hardened into semi transparent, brittle vitrified glass. You could almost call it clinical.

This wasn't.

There was plenty of glass around, but most of it was in smaller pieces, broken up and scattered throughout what was left of the city suburb. Instead of a glass surface, most of the ground was broken, gouged by debris blown away from the epicenter, disrupted by the blast itself, and scarred from centuries of powerful storms. What buildings were left were crumbling husks half buried in the sickly ground, flooded by irradiated ground water, and almost unrecognizable.

The highway we were following, I-95, was the only infrastructure that had survived the blast, even in part. We wouldn't go more than a few hundred meters without it breaking off, either crumbled into nothingness, or so damaged it was impossible to follow. Whenever that happened, I had to rely on Nate's knowledge of the area to get us back on track. The ex-soldier had a good sense of direction, and he clearly knew where he was going, but the detours set us back, and we had a schedule to keep.

I talked it over with Nate as we began our journey into the hellscape that had been the southern edge of the city. I'd be combat effective for around 50 hours. The Vertibird dropped us off about 20 klicks north of the hills this Institute doctor was hiding in. That meant a 40 kilometer round trip with no deviations, but as we were finding out, it would be safe to add a 20 klick buffer to that. While his armor had rudimentary NVS, Nate would probably need to sleep for at least a few hours that night. All of that meant we would need to average almost two kilometers per hour, giving us time to search for the doctor and get our information from him. It's painfully slow, but considering the terrain we'd be crossing, potential threats, and the fact that we couldn't eat or drink for risk of radiation poisoning, that will end up being a difficult ask.

As we found another unbroken section of I-95, I paused my constant scanning of the surrounding desolation to glance at the ex-soldier. He seemed to be doing alright in that armor, but how would he hold up after two days with no food and water. As… extremely unpleasant as it is, this won't be the first time I've had to suffer that.

The first time was at Mendez's direction during training after I'd gotten, I'll call it revenge, on one of the DI's during hand to hand drills a few months after my augmentation procedures, shortly before my first deployment. The man had been especially harsh after I was split from Gamma company. I didn't know why, but once I got the opportunity, I paid him back in full. It was supposed to be a technical session; apparently there had been a history of cadets accidentally killing instructors while adjusting to their augmentations.

Well, I egged him on during the hour and a half long drill, subtly at first, small things like giving him a smile every time I 'won' a round (it was essentially every round which didn't do much for his mood). As the DI grew more and more irritated, I began picking up the pace until he was struggling. Eventually, he grew frustrated enough to pull a cheap shot, 'accidentally' punching me under the jaw after I pulled out of a kick that would have probably broken a few ribs. It hadn't hurt, by that point my body was well adjusted to the procedures, but it, in my mind, justified what happened next.

When we squared up for the next point, he immediately swung again, trying for the same targeted strike, just under the right side of my chin. It isn't a bad place to hit; if you do it right, it can put most on their ass. Well I guess he forgot he was fighting a SPARTAN.

Before his fist was halfway to my jaw, I struck back in the exact same spot. The difference was, my punch lifted the man off of his feet and he was unconscious before he hit the deck. I hadn't hit him too hard, but I found out later the blow had shattered his jaw and gave the DI one hell of a concussion.

Even Ambrose had something to say to me about that one. It had something to do with being responsible with the strength I've been given. I didn't care at the time, that asshole had been torturing me for the better part of four years. He'd put me in the infirmary a few times, I was just returning the favor.

Well… I started caring after I spent two and a half days in a 'real life sim' without any supplies. I don't think Mendez would have risked on of his men's lives like that, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

My mind returned to the present. I doubt Nate has had any experience like that.

Despite everything, the ex-soldier seemed calm, difficult as it was to tell through his armor. He was good at that. I could credit his decade and a half of active duty, but I'd seen enough experienced soldiers panic to know there's more to it than that. I'll just have to be ready to accommodate when he begins fading.

I caught movement out of my periphery at our 10 o'clock. When I looked, whatever it was had disappeared.

Nate froze as I held up a fist. "Potential contact, 20 meters to our 10."

After a short scan of the area, we spread out, just in case. I appreciated the ex-soldier didn't need to be told.

A split second later, my companion swore and scrambled, or waddled, backward just as the ground beneath his feet erupted in a cloud of flying dirt. My aim snapped to the base of the dust cloud and I opened fire at the same time as the ex-soldier.

Whatever had tried to attack Nate hissed and writhed in the dirt as rounds impacted. A half dozen shots later I called, "cease fire!"

The dust slowly settled and what came into view was… more confusing than anything I'd seen in a long time. The… creature was maybe a meter and a half long with a black, flat, oval shaped body, large claws protruding from its front and a massive stinger on its tail.

"What the fuck is that? It looks like a giant Scorpion", Nate shouted.

A Scorpion? What's a Scorpion?

I began stalking toward him, rifle trained on the dead creature-

And before I made it more than a few strides, a dull rumbling began beneath my boots. I leapt away as another one of the things exploded from the sickly looking dirt.

How did- I opened fire again as I kept moving toward the ex-soldier. Neither creature emerged until we were moving. That doesn't make sense, most ambush predators attack when their prey is stationary. And how did they know where to pop up?

Another one burst from the ground just behind me and I dodged to the side as its stinger stabbed the air where my lower back had been an instant before.

Vibrations?

Footsteps.

I put a trio of rounds into the third creature's face (or what I assume is its face based on the eyes) and froze as it collapsed to the greenish dirt.

"They're tracking the vibrations from our footsteps", I said as I swapped magazines.

"Footsteps…" The ex-soldier looked around. "I-95. Let's get on the freeway. It will be harder for them to get through the asphalt."

I nodded and we ran, or half ran, toward the relatively intact road. As we did, one of these giant 'Scorpions' would pop up every few steps. By the time we got off of the soft ground, there were at least a dozen of the bastards chasing us. It took the better part of a minute and two magazines to put them all down.

"Okay", Nate panted through his helmet's distorted speakers, "I don't know what the hell is happen, but why are we being chased by scorpions a hundred times too big?"

I still don't know what scorpions are, but from the looks of it, they're some sort of insect or arachnid. Even in the most extreme circumstances the largest of either I've seen was maybe a half meter across. These things were three or four times that, and that was without including their legs. As far as I'm aware, radiation can't do that; it will cause mutations, but the vast majority of those end up killing who or whatever they happen to. Maybe over the course of several hundred years, that ended up here? I don't know enough about biology to make a guess.

"Whatever they are, they're sensitive to ground vibrations, and die when you shoot them. We'll have to be careful."

The armored man's head snapped around to me. "Goddammit man, could you please act surprised, or shocked for once? We were just attacked by scorpions the size of a fucking cow." I could almost see the indignant expression on his face.

Why? Being surprised by something new isn't as useful as figuring out how to deal with it.

"We knew we'd find new threats here. We have to keep moving."

"Hmm", he grumbled. "You know, sometimes it's easy to forget you're half my age. And a human being." The ex-soldier paused for a moment before releasing a long, deep breath. "You're right."

Human being? We began down the highway, doing our best to avoid breaks in the asphalt. Technically, I think I'm still considered human. Been called other things a lot more though.

I-95 crumbled away once again a few hundred meters later. I motioned for the ex-soldier to wait while I took a few tentative steps into the damp, infected looking dirt beyond.

Nothing.

Did these things operate in limited territory? That would make sense; if the entire area was infested with them, we would have been attacked much sooner. Waving my companion forward, we continued on much more carefully. While it was good to know they wouldn't be hounding us everywhere, they still presented a problem: we wouldn't know where they would attack from until they made their move. It was like walking through a live minefield.

My mind was operating on overdrive, processing all of the incoming visual and auditory information, from faint whispers as wind washed over the landscape, to the countless sickly looking pools, to uneven ground that might house more of these 'Scorpions'. Now I also had to concern myself with any vibrations coming from below.

As we continued deeper into the hellish wasteland, the highway became more and more inconsistent. It would break off at what used to be overpasses, buildings, or what was left of them, collapsed across it, and sometimes it would just end in the large pools of contaminated groundwater. Circumventing that slowed us even more. The worst ones were the buildings: turns out Feral Ghouls can survive here, and they've decided the destroyed infrastructure would be their home.

The first time we skirted a tower that had collapsed lengthwise down I-95, we stayed too close to the structure. A snarl preceded the patter of several sets of bare feet across broken concrete as a dozen of the decrepit approximations of people leapt from the destroyed building. I shot three before several more crashed into me. They tried to bite, scratch, and pound their way through my armor while I tore them away. Despite their aggression, the Ghouls were fraile, more so than the average human. It didn't take much to break them.

Nate was similarly preoccupied, but the bulky armor made it difficult to rid himself of his unwanted passengers. At least it was doing its job though. I stalked over to the ex-soldier and helped him remove his unwanted passengers with a few quick stabs.

Once that was finished, we made sure to give towers, and for good measure the groundwater pools, a wide berth when circumventing them. Valentine hadn't been wrong when he said it seems like everything here wants to kill you.

The further south we traveled, the worse things got. The ground grew more broken and unstable, we were attacked by what looked like giant mosquitoes (is the default mutation 'everything gets bigger'?), and another nest of oversized scorpions. Nate slowed as the path became more difficult, and we were beginning to fall behind our pace.

I paused after dealing with the latest batch of oversized bugs. Normally, a good way to reduce the number of potential attacks was to deviate from any known travel paths. That probably wouldn't apply here though; everything was destroyed beyond usability and since no one passed through the area, it was likely the pockets of resistance we were running into would be the same everywhere.

Nate came to a stop next to me and gazed at the ruins of I-95 ahead of us. The stretch we were on disintegrated into another collection of groundwater pools 200 meters ahead. Even from here I could see the large mutated insects buzzing around the irradiated water.

"About a quarter mile back, there's an offramp to a smaller highway that leads through the hills to the north of Attleboro." I met the armored man's eyes. "I chose I-95 because it's the easiest route, but highway 1 was less populated. We'll add about a mile to the walk because we have to cross back over I-95, but it may still be faster. And besides", he nodded at the bodies of the now deceased scorpions, "I seriously doubt we'll run into any more trouble than we are here."

There was no guarantee it would be a better route, but if it wasn't as densely developed, it would have fewer buildings around. That would at least reduce the threat of Ghouls or Supermutants, though we haven't run into any of those bastards yet.

"What's the terrain?"

"If the bombs didn't destroy it? The road runs down the center of a couple hills. Nothing too bad."

I nodded. "We can try."

We moved relatively quickly and it was about five minutes to get to the prescribed junction. While the overpass had been destroyed in the blast, the smaller road was still partially intact, if not as much as the interstate had been. The land around the former off ramp was relatively flat, but it blended into rolling hills in the distance.

Studying the proposed path, a few new questions began forming in my mind: if there was less hard ground, would there be more scorpions in the area? Does the terrain make it more likely for Supermutants to use this area as an ambush? It may eliminate some problems, but it presents its own.

The other two options are to continue down I-95 which is too slow, or taking a more direct path, which would potentially lead to more attacks and worse terrain. This route is an unknown, but everything here is.

"Let's go."

A few hours later, as the sun came close to touching the horizon behind the rolling hills around us, casting long shadows over everything, we ran into the largest obstacle so far. A massive crater, probably 300 meters in diameter blocked our path forward. The pit was almost centered along the road we had been using, set in a narrow depression between two steeply sloping hills. It looked more like an impact crater than a nuclear detonation site. Fusion warheads are usually airburst for maximum effect which tends to leave a very wide, shallow depression. This one is easily 50 or 60 meters deep. There was nothing in the area that would suggest what might have created the scar if it hadn't been the explosion. Maybe there was a smaller, secondary detonation? It was difficult to tell for sure after 200 years of erosion and decay.

That by itself wouldn't be an issue, the problem was the seven large reptilian looking bipeds ambling around each other in the middle of the massive scar.

They were three to four meters tall, lean, muscular bodies, and armed with massive horns protruding from their heads accompanied by equally massive claws.

So these must be the famous 'Deathclaws'; I couldn't think of anything else they'd be. They were certainly fearsome looking creatures.

There were ways we could get around the crater, but it would add a lot of time to the journey considering the rolling hills and surrounding terrain that turned out to be tougher than Nate originally thought. The power armor had done alright up to this point, but its limited dexterity had already slowed our pace, and we hadn't encountered anything difficult yet. The crater was large enough to slip by them without notice, but then the his armor's limitations came into play again: it made stealth almost impossible

And yeah, I kind of wanted to fight the things people here decided to call 'Deathclaws'.

I waved Nate forward to the rim of the crater.

The ex-soldier froze as he saw the small group of four meter tall reptiles. "What the fuck are those?"

"Probably Deathclaws."

I felt the armored man's eyes on my back.

"So what do you want to do", he asked.

"How do you think that armor would handle traversing the rim?"

My companion hesitated, probably scanning the area. Because of its width, the eastern and western walls of the crater were at least another 50 meters taller than the edge we were standing over as well as the opposite side. I didn't trust the stability of the ground on those upper edges which meant if we wanted to circumvent this, we would need to find a way out of the narrow valley. He would have a better idea of what his suit could do, but I had my doubts.

"I don't know. It's steady, but we haven't tried anything that rough yet."

Hmm. That wasn't promising. The longer we added to this trip, the more likely Nate would start suffering from dehydration by the end. Worst case scenario, the Brotherhood had given us anti-radiation drugs, but would those help when the rations the ex-soldier was carrying were being constantly irradiated? We're already pushing it further than I'm comfortable with on this alternate route.

"You think you can kill those things?"

I turned my head to look at the ex-soldier. He wants me to fight? Seven of them, about a hundred and fifty meters between us… that's a lot of buffer to work with. It depends on whether or not they would take a 12.7mm to the head and keep going, and if they can, what happens when they get here? No matter how tough something is, there are always weak points: eyes, mouth, ears, organs. The Deathclaws were lanky, which meant they were probably agile and quick, but that usually left more sensitive joints. With they're long, muscular arms, they probably ran on all fours which meant they could cover ground quickly, and they wouldn't be as affected by the bad terrain, but they'd only be able to do so for short distances.

"I can't know for sure, but there are options."

Nate looked back at the rim and the rolling hills surrounding us. "I just don't want to be caught stumbling around these hills when those bastards notice us, if we even have the time to do it. Besides", he looked back at me, voice tinged with amusement, "I want to see if you can beat something called a 'Deathclaw'."

That sounded like a challenge. How could I pass that up?

I looked back at the group of mutated creatures milling around the center of the crater, plan taking shape.

"We don't know what these things can do, I need you as a contingency." I pointed to the rim's 5 o'clock. The location was tucked into the edge of the crater where the wall began climbing the hill to the west. It should provide good visual cover and keep him out of the way, provided the Deathclaws don't go after him. "Take position there, once I empty my first magazine, open fire on the rearmost one."

"You want me to get their attention?" He sounded calmer than I expected.

"No, stall them for a few seconds." It wasn't a complicated plan, but simple means flexible, and without knowing what I'm dealing with, flexible is more important. Putting Nate away from the fight also meant I was more maneuverable if they managed to make it to my position. Hopefully.

"I can do that."

I met Nate's gaze and gave him a nod.

A few minutes later, he was nestled between the rim of the crater and the crumbling hill flanking us. It would be a 150 meter shot for him from there. I'd never seen the ex-soldier shoot at that distance. The rifle was certainly capable, but was he? And wearing armor he's never fought in before?

It would be fine, I didn't need him to kill any of the things, just give me long enough to make my next move, whatever that ends up being.

I was crouched a few meters back from the edge of the crater, giving the Deathclaws a quick once over through the scope on my sniper rifle. Anatomy was never my strong suit; knowing where I need to shoot, stab, or hit something to kill it has been my only concern. I wasn't going to figure out how thick their skulls were, so my test would be 'can they stop a high caliber round?'

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my aim on the mutated reptile closest to me, held, and squeezed the trigger.

A 12.7mm bullet exploded from the muzzle with a concussion that reverberated through my chest. A split second later, the massive round crashed into the first Deathclaw's head-

And knocked it to the ground.

I watched it writhe in the sickly looking dirt, but there was no explosion of grey matter.

Yes, they can take a high caliber bullet.

The others immediately zeroed in on my weapon's booming report and began dashing toward the crater wall fast enough to make most animals jealous.

Okay. It would have been boring if I picked them off from here.

I noticed the things weren't taking a direct line toward me as I chambered the second cartridge; while they ran, each of them began jumping from side to side every few steps. That's interesting, are these bastards used to being shot at?

Even so, their movements weren't too fast to keep up with. I sighted in on the new closest target, now about 125 meters away, and sent another round down range. This one blew it's left knee out just as it planted to change directions once again. Blood and bone exploded from the joint and its leg folded in on itself. The Deathclaw let out an agonized screech, loud enough to make me wince. Too bad my helmet didn't dampen that.

Another round was loaded a second later, and the five remaining, healthy reptiles hit the 100 meter mark, when I sent the next bullet downrange, toward the lead creature's head. Unfortunately, I missed its mouth. The bastard dodged to the right just as I squeezed the trigger, and the 12.7mm projectile crashed into its, apparently, bulletproof skull just below its left eye. The force of the impact snapped the Deathclaws head to the side, and it dropped to the muddy slope, but it was still very much alive.

They were close enough now, the crater wall's slope was making it difficult to shoot down at them. I edged forward to get a better sightline and noticed the first creature getting back to its feet and stumbling after its friends.

My next projectile found its mark. The high caliber round crashed through one of the remaining Deathclaws' teeth and it dropped to the ground, what looked like it's spine and a wave of blood exploding all over the writhing creature behind it.

My final targets seemed to get what was happening, because as soon as their companion began tumbling back down the slope, the three of them got as low as they could, scrambling up the crater wall and making themselves as small a target as possible. The last round skimmed over the center creature's left shoulder, leaving a furrow in its scaly flesh, but the damn thing barely seemed to notice as it scrambled toward me.

The instant my rifle was empty, gunfire erupted from Nate's position. I didn't check to see if he was shooting at the first Deathclaw I'd hit, these three would be on me in a few seconds.

Time for the fun part.

I backed away from the edge, setting the empty sniper down and pulled my combat rifle from its sling. I couldn't see the approaching mutant anymore, but I could hear it's scrambling feet under the sound of the ex-soldier's rhythmic fire.

A smile crept across my face. This was like fighting a Mgalekgolo, but faster, and without the plasma cannon.

Just as the clambering feet reached the rim of the crater, my legs coiled tight and, once the first one's head emerged over the edge, I drove them into the ground as hard as I could.

My target must not have expected me to meet its charge, because its arms were splayed at its side, ready to strike, as my shoulder crashed into the thing's head. In my armor, I probably weighed more than the Deathclaw, so the laws of physics played a helping hand and my momentum knocked the big ass lizard off balance. We both began falling back toward the crater floor and my prey tried to take a swipe at me, but I was well within its long reach.

As we did, I grabbed its neck with my left hand and brought the rifle around with my right. I jammed the muzzle into my target's left eye and pumped a half dozen rounds into it. The last few punched through the backside of its skull, covering the muddy ground beneath it in brain and bone.

The ground came up to meet us as the last report faded. Leaping away from the now dead reptile, I struggled to regain my footing on the steep crater wall. The instant I had some semblance of control over my legs, I looked back up to see the other two uninjured Deathclaws jumping back over the rim of the crater and beginning their charge toward me. One of the three wounded creatures was sprinting for me from the left, one arm dangling uselessly at its side with a half dozen bullet holes in its shoulder.

There wasn't time to worry about the others.

I began backing down the slope, putting distance, and more importantly, time, between us and I sighted on the closer of the two rushing from above. They both began dodging in opposite directions, but I still planted a trio of projectiles in the first one's left thigh. It stumbled, but kept moving.

These things are tougher than they had any right to be.

His friend lunged for me, massive claws flying for my chest, but I sidestepped and it when careening down the hill. Before I could do anything else, the injured one was careening at me from my left. I dropped onto my back as its good claw sailed over my head and slammed into the slope behind me. Turning, I kicked the wounded creature in the stomach as hard as I could. Something under my armored boot cracked and the Deathclaw keened as it was sent tumbling back down the hill to join the other one.

I twisted on my back, bringing my rifle around and put four shots into the uninjured mutant's neck as it began rushing back up the hill toward me. Without it's absurdly thick skull to protect the soft tissue and spine, the smaller rounds tore through its throat and scattered muscle, blood, and bone across the writhing creature behind it.

I didn't get a chance to finish the second, floundering reptile because, as I took aim at its chest, the other pounced from my left. I managed to roll away, but it's claw caught my rifle's stock and tore the weapon from my grasp, sending it clattering down toward its still recovering friend.

Springing back to my feet, I began backpedaling while my attacker pressed on. I ducked under the third blow and drove my right shoulder into its sternum. The force of the charge sent Deathclaw stumbled backward. I pulled my knife and advanced, but the bastard was smart enough to take another sideways swing at me to keep some distance between us.

By that point, the other creature was stumbling its way back up the slope, broken ribs and all. I didn't know where the others were, but Nate's gunfire had sped up dramatically.

I continued rushing my prey as it swiped at me again. I stepped in and blocked the thing's wrist with my left arm. I'd intended to drive my knife into it's elbow, but the bastard was stronger than it looked. I jammed my right foot into the uphill slope to keep from stumbling which gave my target an instant to recover. It reared back and swung its lanky arm down at me from overhead. I sidestepped just far enough to avoid the blow and, as it's claw crashed into the ground, I planted an armored boot on it.

More bones broke from the force of me driving my foot into its hand and wrist as I leaped toward the creature's head. Being so close, it didn't have time to respond before I wrapped an arm around its neck and twisted, knocking it off balance and we both tumbled to the slick, muddy ground. The thing's head turned much farther than it should have, but I kept ahold of the Deathclaw as it landed on top of me. I wrapped my legs around its torso and pin the thing in place while I dug my knife into its neck up to the hilt. With a hard pull, I ripped the knife through the front of the creature's throat.

My knife wasn't long enough to sever its neck completely, but blood exploded from the gaping wound and my target writhed in my grasp while the life drained from it all over the ground and my right side. I didn't know where the other still living creatures were, so I'd have to trust this one was down for good.

I shoved the dying reptile away and sprung to my feet-

Just in time for a claw to slam into my chest.

It hit hard enough to flare my shields and they dropped alarmingly as I stumbled backward. I'd just landed on my ass when the Deathclaw lunged for me again. Without time to do anything else, I swatted it's flashing claws aside and the four meter tall lizard barreled into me.

The thing was heavy. The impact slammed my head into the slight damp dirt with enough force to make my vision flash white for a split second. I instinctively responded with a quick jab to its chest with my knife, but the bastard was writhing too much and the strike missed, blade driving deep into its left shoulder.

With another ear piercing screech, the Deathclaw jumped away from, knife still lodged in it, and began circling as I climbed to my feet. Great, now the only weapon I have on me is the 10mm handgun. Not ideal.

Before I could reach for it, the wounded animal charged me again, swinging one of its claws in a wide arc toward me. The thing seems to have learned from its dead companions' mistakes; the slashing arm came at me just low enough, ducking under it wouldn't work, and its forward momentum made dodging away equally untenable. It was going in for an all or nothing effort, commendable, but the attack left the creature open.

As the strike was about to reach me, my legs coiled again. I leapt, twisting as I traveled upward, somersaulting over the Deathclaw's charging form. Just before reaching the apex of my jump, head passing a meter over my target's spiny shoulders, my hand snagged the handgun and I aimed straight up (for me) toward the back of my target's head. The sidearm barked and I planted half a dozen rounds behind where, I hoped, the base of its skull was.

I didn't get to see the results because, as I found out, the ground was too soft to support a half ton of SPARTAN.

Son of a bitch. My feet slipped out from under me the instant they touched the slope, and I started tumbling down toward the other dead Deathclaws.

The gunfire coming from Nate's position had stopped and in its place was a chorus of loud bangs and crashing. It took a few precious seconds to finally regain control of my slide, and I glanced toward the sound to see the ex-soldier likewise tumbling down the steep crater wall from his position, another Deathclaw chasing after him.

My last target was collapsed in the muddy dirt a half dozen meters from my takeoff point, its chest heaving for breath.

There was no time to worry about it, I didn't know where number seven was, but if the Deathclaw chasing Nate got to him, that armor wouldn't hold up long. My eyes darted around for my discarded rifle. After a frantic instant, I found it lying beside the corpse of one of my victims. I half ran, half scrambled to the weapon, using my hands as much as my feet on the slimy, sloped crater wall and snatched it from the dirt.

I cycled the bolt as I turned, ejecting a fresh cartridge, but I wasn't going to take that chance, kneeling on the unsteady surface. I sighted on the, as far as I know, last Deathclaw, quickly bearing down on my companion. As much as my pride wanted to aim for a headshot, at this range, with a sporadic target in close proximity to Nate, I couldn't risk a wing or near miss. And if the sniper hadn't punched through, this thing sure as hell wouldn't. I centered my sights on the creature's chest, just behind its outstretched claws flying toward the now stopped ex-soldier.

Time slowed to a crawl as those talons neared Nate's neck. Even at this range, I could see the snarl on the Deathclaw's twisted face, blood dripping from the center of its head where my first 12.7mm round landed. Nate's legs were churning like they were in molasses, trying to push himself away from the mutated reptile, but to no avail. The only thing that could stop the thing-

I squeezed my rifle's trigger.

The weapon barked against my shoulder as one of the 7.62X51mm rounds exploded from its muzzle and crashed into the Deathclaw's rib cage, about ten centimeters below its shoulder. As soon as the bolt cycled closed, I put another round just below the first. And then a third between the two.

The creature released an odd, gargling keen as it pitched forward. My final target slammed into the ex-soldier, sending them both careening the rest of the way to the bottom of the crater. I tracked the two with my rifle until they came to a rest and Nate began climbing to his feet.

My target didn't budge.

I slowly released the breath I'd been holding and allowed a wave of satisfaction to wash over me.

The Deathclaws weren't smart, and didn't offer the same challenge a well organized group of Insurrectionists, to say nothing of the Covenant, did but yeah, that had been a good fight.

The ex-soldier's gaze fell from me as I stood, to the dead creature at his feet, and back. I waved him over and he began picking his way toward me while I scanned for other threats.

Seven. I counted all seven Deathclaws lying in the dirt, none moving. The one I hadn't killed was sitting near where it had fallen when the large caliber round blew its knee out, a half dozen bullet holes in its neck and chest. Nate finished that one off while the others were charging me. The one that had attacked him was the first I'd wounded; it must have gone after him once he started shooting.

"That", my companion said as he neared, voice a mixture of awe and… something that might have been irritation, "was a fucking shot."

I met his gaze and nodded. It hadn't been especially long, a little over 100 meters, but yes, it was still a good one.

The ex-soldier looked at the dead lizards scattered around us. "Sorry I couldn't do more. Shooting in this thing is… different." Not irritation, disappointment.

I cocked my head at the armored man. He'd managed to kill one and wound two others in anything but ideal conditions, using armor he'd never fought in before, at something going on 200 meters. For a regular soldier, I couldn't complain. "You did fine."

He held my gaze for a few heartbeats before nodding. I think he was surprised, but it didn't seem to help. It was probably similar to what he'd said when he told me the story about his last deployment. For someone like him, feeling as though he's being dragged along for the ride was… humbling.

I can understand that.

After another moment of silent staring, he turned back to the dead creatures. "These things are absolutely terrifying."

Scary? I don't know about that, but as far as wild animals go, they were certainly threatening. These are quick, tough, and deadly. The idea a skull could naturally develop to take a 12.7mm round was… incredible. On top of that, the amount of energy in that cartridge would be more than enough to give anything without something like my armor significant brain damage, even if it didn't penetrate. That kind of resilience would make a Sangheili blush.

"We know what they can do now. Next time will be easier."

The ex-soldier snorted as he looked around the crater now full of corpses. "Yeah, easier, right." He shook his head. "Maybe I'll do something next time."

We were already short on time; standing around here all day trying to appease Nate's damaged ego wouldn't get us anywhere. I grabbed my knife from the dead Deathclaw before climbing back to the top of the ridge to collect my sniper rifle and satchel. After giving everything a once over, my combat rifle had a new gouge in its stock where the Deathclaw had hit it, we began across the crater.

The backside of the massive scar led up to the remains of highway one we'd gone through all this trouble to reach. It meant we wouldn't have to spend hours trying to circumvent the rough terrain, or figure out if Nate could make it in his new armor at all.

Even so, I would rather be up on higher ground, not in the narrow valley hoping no one is around to take a shot at us. As unlikely as it was we would run into Raiders, or Gunners here (not enough people for them to prey on, and I doubt they have high quality radiation suits) there's always the chance another group or random individual was in the area. Then there's the risk of Ghouls, Feral Ghouls, Supermutants, or potentially more Deathclaws. This path may have been better than I-95 to this point, besides the whole 'Deathclaw' thing, but it clearly had its own risks.

As it was, I kept the quickest pace Nate could cope with while my eyes constantly switched from ridge to ridge. It was another hour and the sun had fallen behind the horizon by the time we cleared the narrow basin. Darkness settled over the bombed out wasteland and I switched my display to NV, washing the green tinged landscape with a cool blue and turning the destroyed hills around us into a twilight illuminated nightmare.

Just like every SPARTAN, I'd spent countless hours training in low light conditions, and even more operating in them. So much so, the nearly pitch blackness smothering the Glowing Sea was the closest thing I had to a comforting blanket. While my NVS was helpful, I'd gone without it so many times, it almost felt like cheating. Granted, I wasn't used to having someone in the bulky suit of T-60 following behind me, so maybe that made up for it.

Eventually, Nate called a stop; he sounded exhausted. I checked my mission clock: 0130. We'd been on the go for 13 hours.

"We should be a mile or two away", the ex-soldier said, voice low and monotonous, as we searched a small, mostly collapsed house in a clearing 50 meters north of the highway's ruins. "I just need a few hours of shut eye."

Despite his fatigue, I could still hear the subdued irritation sharpening his voice. A regular soldier, even other special operations outfits, they shouldn't expect to keep up. This is what SPARTANs are for. It was starting to annoy me, and I was half tempted to tell him to get over it.

But I couldn't. I couldn't because I understood exactly why he was frustrated. It's something I'd thought about while we walked, in between scanning for threats and making sure the ex-soldier was keeping pace. Maybe in a smaller part, it was the same as what drove me to join the SPARTAN III program in the first place: I never wanted to feel helpless again.

My companion awkwardly settled into a corner of the house's front room, the only place that wasn't on the verge of collapsing, and let out a deep sigh.

"This place sucks." That I couldn't disagree with. "I should be good in two or three hours, can you wake me up if we need to get moving?"

"Yes."

"Thanks." He hesitated. "And thanks for saving me. Again." The gratitude was a surprise. I wracked my memories of the fights we'd been in… I'm pretty sure that's the first time he's said anything. Yeah, he must have been even more irritated than I thought.

I nodded. "It's my-"

"Job", he finished, exasperated. "For fuck's sake man, could you just say 'you're welcome'?"

I cocked my head.

"Don't worry 'tin man', I'll say it with you. Ready? You're. Welcome."

My eyes rolled. Now I definitely wasn't saying it. So I shrugged and turned to leave. Him calling me 'tin man' didn't sit well. I wasn't sure why, but the pet name felt a little too… derogatory.

With the ex-soldier settling in for a few hours of sleep, I started walking a perimeter, slowly spiralling out from the house to make sure there were no giant scorpions or other buried surprises waiting to pounce. While I did, my thoughts kept swirling around my companion and his frustration. As pointless as it may have been, I couldn't fault him for it. There's a difference between being able to rely on other people, and having to rely on other people. I don't think he has a problem relying on me, anymore, but now he has no choice, and that's a very difficult position to be in, especially for someone used to doing everything themselves.

Something I'd talked about with Fourier a month or so before I got dropped here came to mind. It was one of the many times he tried to get me to open up about my childhood, but it was the first where he'd ever talked about his time before joining the SPARTAN IV program.

"I'd been thinking about it for a while", he said as the two of us sat in the empty galley of our current station, the UNSC Strength in Dominion, a new Stealth Cruiser. The Captain began occasionally allowing me to return to my habit of eating at night a few months prior, provided one of the squad was with me. Most nights it was him.

"What got me to pull the trigger was one op that went… especially bad." He set down his fork and stared at the tray of half eaten food in front of him. "I lost my buddy, Randles, along with half our platoon. We'd been together since we went through basic on` Reach. Got assigned to the same unit out of boot, applied to the ODST's together, got through that hell together." He paused and took another, angry bite. "Motherfucker took my plasma bolt. I could almost see him smiling as he did it."

Fourier finally looked back up at me. "They like guys like me: no family, no real life outside of the UNSC. SPARTAN Ops makes sure you know what you're giving up when they start recruiting you. Hard to go back to a normal life after this after all." He stopped and gave a self mocking laugh. "Not that I get to say anything about that to you. But they don't have to tell you what you get when you join. Every one of us knows that. Every one of us knows what you guys and the II's did for the rest of us. As dumb as it sounds, I wanted a piece of that. I didn't want to watch my buddies die in front of me ever again."

Silence settled back over the empty galley as my squad lead returned to his food for a few moments. When he started talking again, his voice had grown somber. "Then when I learned about you, about what happened, what you've gone through, what you've done… I felt like shit thinking that. It's easy to put your heroes on a pedestal until you meet them and realize they've sacrificed, and suffered, just like everyone else. People die in war, I knew that, we all do. I was just trying to find some way to cheat it. How could I say I felt helpless after hearing about you? I at least had a rifle in my hands and training I could lean on. At least I signed up for it" He offered me a small smile. "I didn't just take you on because of your record, I did it because I think someone owes you for what you've done, and what you've been through. Shit, look at me getting all sappy, and with you of all people", he chuckled.

Thinking about it now, the idea he accepted the challenge of integrating me into SPARTAN Ops as some sort of payment for the hand I've been dealt was… actually a bit refreshing. It meant I was wrong about why most wanted me around, at least to an extent.

But I was getting off topic. At the end of the day, he didn't want to need to rely on anyone else to get himself and his people out alive. That's something I respected in the man; I'd barely relied on anyone for the decade and a half prior to being assigned to Fourier. He trusted everyone under his command, even me, but he usually tried to take the hardest rolls. Amanda was the voice of reason though, and I think having me to lean on at times made it easier for him.

That's the difference between his situation and Nate's though: Fourier could take on most of those harder jobs and when he couldn't (or more often shouldn't) and we had no other option, I was there as a fallback.

No, I couldn't begrudge the ex-soldier his frustration. I think everyone faces that at some point. But what could I do about it? I want to get him to the Institute safely, and the best way to do that is to do what I do best: fight.

It was a question I could understand, but I wasn't equipped to answer. Should I have felt that way about him doing most of the talking? Is what I do any more valuable? Hell, without him, I probably would never have made contact with Valentine, let alone get here. Maybe the difference is I know I'm no diplomat, I'm a soldier, talking isn't what I do. But he isn't a diplomat either, he's a soldier and I do what he was trained to do, what he did for most of his life, much better. That must be hard to swallow, I know it would be for me.

That could be where he's stuck then: figuring out how to shift his responsibilities and perspective to be useful in this little impromptu partnership.

As it turns out, I didn't need to wake the ex-soldier; he was up and out of the house a little over two hours after he fell asleep. He probably needed more rest, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't see his face, but it wasn't hard to guess he was still upset, and telling him to go back to sleep would only make things worse.

We set off with several hours of darkness still ahead of us. It would make finding this hideout more difficult, but with Nate up, and restless, there was no point in sticking around. Thankfully, it seemed like the insects that had been pestering us throughout the journey were dormant at night. As we broke from the highway and headed over a few rolling hills to the southeast, we didn't encounter any hostile creatures to slow our progress.

While it certainly wasn't as striking as seeing Boston from the passenger compartment of a Vertibird, gazing across the broken landscape through the dull blue tint of NVS was… foreboding. There were the scant remains of a town, I think Nate called it Attleboro, to the southwest as we crested the hill overlooking I-95. It was impossible to tell what the town would have looked like in the daylight, but it wasn't hard to guess. Even through the wash, I could imagine the light brown and sickly green that would have discolored everything, as it had every other square centimeter of ground and building to this point.

"Fuck me", the ex-soldier whispered. I glanced over to see him likewise studying the destroyed and buried remains of the city.

As intriguing as the sight was, lingering on the hilltop not only wasted time, but if there happened to be anything out there watching us, we would make for a perfect target.

I began toward the remains of I-95 and a few instants later, I heard the odd, damp thuds of Nate trudging after me. We only had a few hours left until he began suffering from the symptoms of dehydration; it would start with a headache, then another few hours and it would move on to soreness, and muscle cramps. After that started, he might have 12 to 16 hours before he was too weak to move, and I would probably begin feeling my own.

After another 45 minutes of walking, Nate's heavy footfalls stopped. "This is the area. Based on Kellogg's… memories", I could hear the grimace in his voice. There was no lying to myself with this one, I was curious about what he saw; the mercenary was of interest to me, "the hideout should be somewhere around here."

Somewhere around here?

He caught my gaze. "He didn't know exactly where the Doctor was hiding, he just knew it was in a cave somewhere in this part of the preserve."

We were still standing in the middle of rolling hills scarred by nuclear fire. Several rock outcroppings, eroded to near nothing by flames and time, were scattered throughout the area. Nothing obvious to mark a cave though. It wouldn't be a good place to hide if there had.

It was light by the time we found the Doctor's hideout, sun rising into a hazy, brown sky casting an even more sickly light over the already uninviting landscape. After searching for the better part of two hours, I made Nate stop and think. Despite the armor, I could tell he was anxious, aching to contact someone from the Institute. While patience is certainly not my strong suit, I've been bent over by my own impatience enough to learn sometimes it pays to slow down. If we kept wandering around an area that, as far as Nate knew, was around 10 square kilometers, we weren't going to find it.

Eventually, he recalled Kellogg had seen an image of the rocky outcropping hiding Virgil's cave. He got it from someone called X6-88. A Courser maybe?

The cave entrance was almost impossible to spot, tucked into said outcropping about half way up one of the several hills overlooking the remains of I-95 to the south.

And there was a Deathclaw wandering around the hillside.

This is one of the many reasons you don't go after something half assed.

But it wasn't like I could say much after Goodneighbor.

Killing it quietly would be difficult from a distance. If it roared or I didn't kill it quickly enough to prevent one of its ear splitting screeches, anything in the area, including Virgil, would know we were here. We weren't here to kill the doctor, but he wouldn't know that, and the last thing we needed now was for him to get spooked.

So I was laying on top of another small group of rocks just below the crest of the hill, a hundred meters or so from the cave entrance. This was my ambush location of choice because the rocks formed a large semicircle around a divot in the center. My position was about five meters above the center of the circle, tucked into the deep shadow of a taller rock to my right. It was just high enough the Deathclaw wouldn't be able to reach me. While there were avenues of escape, most of them would be tight enough to slow the Deathclaw if it tried to run, which I doubt it would.

I'd been there for around a half hour, periodically hitting the boulder I was waiting on with a smaller stone I'd picked up along the way. Nate was standing silently behind another on the opposite side of the collection of rocks, near the largest gap where the oversized lizard would probably come through, waiting.

While Deathclaws seemed to be incredibly well equipped for a fight, their tracking skills were… oddly lacking. Every time I produced the sharp snap, the mutated reptile would begin stalking toward us, head down and claws at the ready. Inevitably, after about 30 seconds, it would lose focus and go back to wandering the hillside, like the only thing it's interested in is direct combat.

Long after my patience was gone, and I was tempted to pick the sniper rifle I'd laid next to me up and get the damn thing over with, my prey finally entered the group of rocks. As it did, my slow, rhythmic tapping turned into more rapid, irregular knocks. This wouldn't work on anything with half a brain, but it was clear by this point I wasn't dealing with anything close to that.

And now was about the time my body would get tense and restless, waiting for this aimless creature to finally find its way to my side of the outcropping.

After another half dozen clacks, it did, clawed feet crunching over the collection of gravel and wet dirt. It's beady eyes were scanning the rocks around it, almost looking annoyed, trying to find the source of the incessant noise.

My grip tightened around my knife and I let the aggravation drain from my body.

3

2

1

I smacked my stone against the boulder three times in quick succession and an instant later, a loud thunk came from Nate's hiding spot. The Deathclaw hesitated a moment, head cocked, clearly unsure what noise it should be paying attention to. A few seconds later, the ex-soldier made another loud thumping noise, and the mutated creature slowly began turning toward his position.

The instant its back was to me, I slipped silently into a crouch, legs coiled, before launching myself toward my target. It never turned as I crashed into its back, knocking the Deathclaw, flailing, to the muddy, gravel strewn ground.

Before the creature had the chance to respond, I grabbed the horn on the left side of its head and shoved its snout into the dirt. My right hand drove my knife into the underside of its chin, just behind the thing's jaw. A loud gurgling escaped, but no roar or keening.

Good.

I ripped the knife out and thrust it in again, this time in the center of its neck and tore it out before stabbing once more.

The thing struggled weakly under me while I held its head to the ground, and a few moments later it grew still from the combination of suffocation and blood loss.

"Clear", I called as I pulled my knife from the corpse. Nate edged around the rock that had been his hiding spot and began toward me and the dead Deathclaw. He didn't say anything this time, just glared at the dead creature.

With that taken care of, I climbed back up the rocks to retrieve my rifles and we trudge down the barren, sickly hill bathed in amber early morning light toward Virgil's hideout. The opening was set deep in the wall of a small cliff surrounded by smooth worn boulders littered for a hundred meters in either direction. With the sunlight beaming in from above the hill, the entire area was cast in shadow. I would have found the cliche amusing if it wasn't such a good spot to hide. If this guy was an Institute doctor, which probably means researcher, he's most likely intelligent and well prepared. He's shown enough forethought to choose a location deep in one of the most inhospitable places I've seen, short of a battlefield, and then went through the effort of using a near impossible to find cave.

Even if the Institute had eventually found it.

I didn't want to bring the ex-soldier in with me in case we were caught in an ambush or trap. In the tight confines of a cave like this, it would be extremely difficult to get both of us out, especially with him in that armor. The problem with that is Nate would be the one doing the talking, and I'm not sure someone hiding in a place like this would be amicable to me saying 'wait a minute while I bring someone else in.'

In the end, I entered first, my sluggish companion a few meters behind me. The interior of the cave was dark and cramped, enough so that I had to crouch and turn sideways just to fit through the opening. Nate had it a bit easier, but his armor made the effort… amusing.

NVS on, a quick scan of the entrance didn't reveal any immediate threats. The inside of the cave was worn smooth, like the rocks outside, with a subtle path leading around a bend five meters ahead. I took it slow, checking the walls and floor for any signs of trip wires, light curtains, laser monitors, motion sensors or anything else that would give away traps or explosives. The saving grace was it would be difficult to hide something like that in the smooth rock without an obvious disturbance.

As I neared the corner, I heard Nate take a hesitant step-

And it made a painfully loud thud on the bare rock, shattering the cave's silence.

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back at the ex-soldier, doing my best to convey a 'what the fuck?' without saying it. He shot me a glare, motioning at himself and his armor.

"Who's there", an odd, raspy voice called out from around the corner. "Is that you Kellogg? I knew you'd come for me eventually; I'm ready for you."

Shaking my head, I waved at the ex-soldier. My job is over apparently.

I could feel the annoyed stare through his helmet's tiny lenses as I turned back to the corner. "We aren't here to fight you. We just want to talk."

"I don't believe you. Are you stalling?"

The voice was strange. It ticked something in the back of my head; I'd heard a voice like it before. When?

"No. Kellogg is dead, we-"

"Kellogg is dead", the voice roared, suddenly angry. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. We killed him about a week ago." I felt Nate's eyes on my back. Was he still upset I'd killed the mercenary instead of him?

There was a long pause. I'll admit, the guy was good, but was it really that unreasonable to believe someone had killed him?

"How?"

"By shooting him", my companion said, voice clipped. "I'm not here to hurt you, we just need information on the Institute. We know you're from there."

"Who told you that?"

"Kellogg did, sort of. He gave us a memory drive showing us where you were hiding. The Institute knows too, they were sending him to kill you."

Another pause.

"I knew they'd find me eventually. I prepared the best I could for that bastard finding me but… I wasn't sure if I'd make it. And so you… you killed him." The Institute scientist cleared his throat. "Then what do you want with me?"

"Do you mind if we come meet you face to face? I'm not a fan of conversations like this."

"Uh…" He trailed off before saying anything. I was still struggling to place his voice. "Fine, but don't be alarmed by my appearance."

What does that mean?

Nate's waving caught my attention and I glanced at the armored man.

"You mind if I go first", he whispered.

My mind was screaming 'no', but it may be a good idea, this time. Him being in a suit of T-60 would be threatening, but expected for the area. That's armor the doctor is at least aware of. He probably wouldn't have the same response to me.

I nodded.

The ex-soldier thudded toward me and we both had to turn sideways so he could pass in the narrow cave. Light's flashed on around the corner, damn near blinding me before I could disable my display's night vision. Nate threw a mechanical hand up over his eyes a split second later before shaking his head and continuing forward.

As he rounded the corner, I edged toward it, weapon at the ready in case this was a trap. I wouldn't blame Virgil if it was; if the man really did believe Kellogg unkillable, the best way to even his odds would be to lure the party into an ambush.

The ex-soldier froze mid stride, staring straight ahead. That wasn't good.

Just as I was about to bring my rifle to bear, he held up a hand to stop me. I squinted at him through the floodlights spilling across the cave.

"Doctor Virgil?" His voice was uncertain, and more than a little nervous.

"Yes."

"What- what are you?"

"Well… you see, to survive in this radiation, I had to resort to… extreme measures."

"That doesn't answer the question", my companion shot back, voice growing sharper again.

An exasperated sigh. "If you must know, I used a specialized mutation of the FEV so, technically, I'm a Supermutant."

Time stopped. The mission objective disappeared. Getting to the Institute, finding my way home, hell even our timetable for getting back out of the Glowing Sea, all of it was background noise.

A Supermutant. Virgil is a fucking Supermutant.

The West Everett Estates flashed through my mind. The piles of dead, mounds of half eaten corpses.

Cassandra. Thomas. Julian.

My anger, my hatred, all washed through my head like a torrent, overwhelming the small voice in the back of my mind telling me this has to be different, throwing up all the logical objections it could.

It was useless, like a sapling resisting the winds of a storm.

My hand clenched my rifle's pistol grip so hard, I felt the wood flex almost to the point of breaking. I didn't have to send the command to my legs before they started moving-

But Nate blocked my way, hand still raised, eyes drilling into me through his helmet.

I grabbed his armored wrist with my off hand, about to throw him out of the way when the ex-soldier widened his stance, bracing himself. It left the smaller man open to any number of attacks, but he clearly wasn't looking for a fight. I wasn't used to people trying to block me, especially a regular human, but the ex-soldier stood his ground and stared me down, even as I advanced, prepared to butcher the Supermutant bastard.

That put a crack in my anger just large enough to keep me from flinging my companion into the opposite wall.

"Move", I said quietly.

"Damon, take a deep breath. This isn't the same thing. Virgil clearly isn't anything like the ones you fought." Nate's voice was steady, but there was worry under his veneer of calm.

Damon? He doesn't use my name often. "Not the same thing?" My voice was still low and even I could hear the quiet edge on the question. How was it not the same? He's a Supermutant.

"No. Think about it. He gave himself some modified version of what makes Supermutants, right? He isn't hostile like them, he doesn't have anyone he can-" the ex-soldier paused, and I could hear him swallow hard through his helmet, "eat."

Not the same thing. The small voice at the back of my head was screaming now, doing everything it could to punch through the thinning fog of my anger. I was being irrational, I was letting my memories and emotions get in the way of the mission. Whatever this guy is, he's our best lead to the Institute, and killing him would only make things worse.

But god damn it I wanted to. Even with reason beginning to reassert itself, my body was burning, ready to tear the Supermutant bastard apart with my bare hands.

Mission first, put it away.

… Fine.

I released Nate's wrist and nodded.

He hesitated for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and lowering his arm.

"Thanks."

Thanks, huh.

My armored companion turned back to the Supermutant- Virgil. "Sorry, we just didn't expect… that."

"You keep saying 'we' yet you're the only person I see."

Nate shot me a nervous glance, but it was fine. I'd be fine. I had to be. Yes, I was still on edge, but this is the mission and I had to stop getting in my own way. If I keep letting myself make emotional decisions, it's going to catch up with me.

I stalked around the corner and my visor polarized as the floodlights hit me. It took every bit of self control to keep my rifle down, and not only because of the Supermutant standing through the entrance to another alcove; there were two of the bulbous turrets sitting on perches flanking the narrow passage, both with their barrels trained on Nate.

Virgil, a two meter tall, twisted, green skinned approximation of a person stared at me through glasses far too small for his disfigured face. "What the hell are you", he asked. "That's neither Brotherhood of Steel armor like your friend, nor is it Enclave."

"He's-"

"I'm a soldier, and we need to find the Institute." My voice was harsh, almost a growl. I don't know why I'm talking with this- thing, but at least in this situation, I didn't want Nate speaking for me.

The doctor flinched, but he didn't cow. "I understand that, but that doesn't explain who you are."

"I'm the one who killed Kellogg."

"Oh great", Nate muttered, too quiet for the Doctor to hear.

Virgil nodded. "Ah, so you're the one I have to thank for ridding the world of that abomination of a man."

You're calling someone else an abomination?

"I'm willing to help, but I won't do it for free."

Nate took a half step forward. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Look at me!" The doctor gestured at himself angrily. "I'm a freak and… it's getting worse. I need your help; I was working on a serum that would fix this, but I had to leave it in my lab."

"And you're trusting us to bring it back to you?"

The Supermutant laughed almost maniacally. "No but what choice do I have? I can't go back, and I'm running out of time."

'Fix this'? 'Running out of time'?

In spite of the fury still threatening to push the rest of my thoughts into oblivion, I was curious. "What does the serum fix? And what do you mean you're running out of time?"

"It reverses the effects of the FEV. I'd get to be a human again, and I need it soon. I-" He grimaced, or that's what it seemed like. "My mind is leaving me. At first I just thought it was my forgetfulness, but the longer I'm like this, the more I lose. Please… I'd rather die than turn into a monster like those bastards out there, wandering around, preying on people. I could never accept that."

He wants to return to being human? He can return to being human?

As the thoughts slid through my mind, they smothered the anger that had taken root. So he needs this serum to fix himself and that's how we get his information. It was quicker and cleaner than torture at least.

"Okay", Nate said, "we'll help as long as you can get us to the Institute." He paused and looked between the two turrets still trained on him. "Could you deactivate these?"

Virgil slowly nodded before retreating from the entrance. A moment later, the floodlights shut off, plunging the cavern back into darkness and the turrets' barrels lowered.

"Come in", the Doctor's odd, nasally voice called from beyond the passage.

My companion was about to start forward when I barred his path with an arm. His head shot to me, but I started stalking toward the entrance before he could say anything. Virgil might be different, but he was still a Supermutant, and suspicious of us. Nate's new power armor be damned, I wasn't about to give the former Institute scientist an opportunity.

I cleared the narrow opening before entering, the only thing missing was aiming my rifle. That I held at the low ready. Beyond the gap was a larger cavern with an ancient looking power bank along the right wall, a work station moved up against a central support, and a staircase down to what looked like rudimentary living quarters below. There was also an odd looking robot ambling around the wide space. It looked roughly like Kleo, but older, with a bulbous torso, no separate head, and stubby limbs. Extra security?

Virgil was standing by his workstation, glaring at me as I ducked through the entrance, followed by Nate. I moved so my back was against the right wall, keeping both the listless looking robot and doctor in my sights. The ex-soldier looked around as he trudged through the opening, similarly studying the temporary haven.

The scientist's gaze passed between the two of us, settling on Nate. "Now, time is short so we need to get this over with. First thing's first. You know how Synths get in and out of the Institute?"

"Yeah, they use some sort of teleporter", the armored man answered.

My eyes narrowed as Virgil's widened. A teleporter. Really. The UNSC hasn't developed anything like that and we're 300 years ahead without blowing ourselves to hell. That smells like bullshit.

"Well, well… Not many know about it. Pretty closely guarded secret. You've certainly done your homework." The doctor nodded. "It's commonly referred to as the 'Molecular Relay'. I don't understand all the science behind it, but it works. That relay is the only way in and out of the Institute. You understand? The only one."

So there's no physical door and the only way in and out of this place is some science fiction technology, even for me. I guess if you're going to secure your facility, that's a pretty good way of doing it.

Nate nodded. "I do."

"Good", Virgil continued. "Now, have you ever seen an Institute Courser?"

"Not in person."

"Coursers are Synths designed for one purpose: they're hunters and they're very good at what they do. You're going to have to kill one."

I recalled Valentine talking about Coursers. Hunt down this world's version of a supersoldier? That had my interest.

The ex-soldier cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Because they're your ticket in. Every Courser has special hardware embedded in a chip in their heads that connects them to the relay. I don't know exactly where you can find one, they haven't sent any after me, but there is a way to track them. The primary insertion point is in the ruins of CIT, directly above the Institute. You'll want to head there. The relay causes some pretty heavy interference across the EM spectrum. If you have a radio, you can tune it to the lower end of the band and listen in. You'll be able to hear the interference. Follow the signal and little lead you to a Courser. Then you just have to… not get killed."

Virgil was selling these things hard, I really hope this isn't the setup for a letdown.

"Not get killed. Right." Nate didn't look, but the remark was directed at me.

"One other thing." The doctor turned and rummaged through his work station for a moment before facing us again, holding a small box. "These are plans for a Signal Interceptor. It will allow you to access the relay system once you have the Courser codes."

My companion took the offered box and slipped it into the MOLLE pouch under his left arm.

Despite my interest, this story wasn't right: why would we need a Courser's chip if the Institute scientist had escaped?

"Where's your chip?"

The Supermutant's eyes fell on me. "What?"

"You escaped the Institute using their relay system. How?"

"Oh. Right." Virgil shook his head. "I didn't use a Courser chip, I used a program that copied their signal, but it had to be loaded directly onto the relay's server. I can't do that from out here."

As… ridiculous as this all sounds, it wouldn't make sense for the doctor to lie here. If he does need us, it would be in his best interest for us to get to the Institute as quickly as possible. There is an outside chance this is still a setup, but at that point we're getting into odds and variables no one can predict.

"Understood."

The Supermutant frowned. "I need you to appreciate what you're going up against. Coursers are specifically built and programmed to be the best hunters and fighters around."

"How?"

"They have biological and mechanical enhancements to improve all physical attributes and durability. On top of that, they have extensive combat programming: guns, hand to hand, stealth, and they're expert trackers."

"What about strategy and tactics?"

"They have access to all of the historical data available to the Institute. If it's been done, they can do it."

"Sounds… interesting", Nate said.

Not really. I was quickly beginning to think these things wouldn't be as capable as I hoped. It sounds like they were made to be ideal soldiers by someone who has never been in a firefight. Stronger, faster, more information, but not necessarily smarter.

"Adaptability?"

Virgil paused. "Well I… I'm not sure. I know they were programmed to adapt to any situation, but that's all."

I'll reserve judgement until I see one in action, but this wasn't promising. At least, it wasn't as promising as I'd hoped. Virgil made them sound like low rent SPARTANs without Mjolnir or top quality combat training and experience.

Whatever. As much as I was itching for another good fight after the Deathclaws, my satisfaction could wait; the mission is what's important.

The scientist wasn't going to provide us any more useful information, and we needed to get moving.

"We'll do it."

"Good", Virgil said through a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Please hurry, I don't know how much time I have left."

Nate nodded. "We'll do everything we can to get you that serum."

I glanced at the armored man for an instant. You make a lot of promises on my behalf.

"I appreciate that, but don't be reckless; I don't have time to wait for someone else to find me."

"If it's possible, we'll get it done."

Virgil nodded hesitantly.

Standing here was starting to bore me, and we're up against the clock.

"Let's move", I said.

Notes:

How's about THAT for some Deathclaw action? I actually didn't know how I wanted to handle this, SPARTANS (especially II's and III's) don't fuck around, and they're a lot stronger/faster than I think most people assume (the MC punched an Banshee in Shadows of Reach). I decided to have fun with it and have Damon whoop some ass, with the exception that the Deathclaws are dangerous, but they're also just animals up against an extremely intelligent, well trained supersoldier. Other than that, we're finally on our way to the Institute, and I'm pretty excited for what's going to happen in the near future. Let me know what you all think and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 17: Which Version is Better?

Notes:

Well hello there and we're back, this time with twice the supersoldiers! If the title doesn't give it away already, it's time to encounter the Commonwealth's boogeyman: Coursers (well okay, people there are scared of synths in general but hey). I wasn't overly impressed with the Coursers in the game, not a huge surprise, so I added something... different to make things more interesting. We're getting close to the Institute, but unlike the game, there are multiple other forces at play. Things are about to get interesting... Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and make sure to leave a review!

By the time we left Virgil's hideout, Nate was starting to feel the more severe symptoms of dehydration. He complained of a headache before we'd gotten back to I-95, and muscle soreness as we rejoined highway 1. It wouldn't be long before he started cramping and with a full day's hump ahead, that could be trouble.

Our journey back through the irradiated rolling hills full of death and decay was, somehow, even quieter than the trip out. Not just fewer odd creatures attacking us, since most of those had already died, but even Nate seemed more muted. It wasn't frustration anymore, or at least not all of it. I was tempted to ask, but my attention had to remain on our perpetually hostile surroundings.

As usual though, the ex-soldier eventually decided to broach the subject himself.

We stopped just on the north side of the crater where I'd had my first encounter with Deathclaws. Yeah… that was a good fight.

Nate was beginning to struggle, even with the power armor doing most of the work. I practically had to drag the man up the steep crater wall. That wasn't easy considering the sickly, damp ground barely wanted to support my own weight.

"Care to explain what happened with Virgil", my companion said as I took a minute to let him rest at the edge of the massive scar. His tone bordered on accusatory.

The ex-soldier was undoubtedly referring to me losing my temper. "He's a Supermutant."

"So, what, you're going to lose your shit every time you see one?"

It was a fair question. Even though he knows what happened to me, and he knows what happened in the West Everett Estates, there's no way I can make him understand it. That's no excuse though, and I've been using my recovering memories as one for the past week.

"No."

"You sure? Because I think there are enough things out here trying to kill me without adding you to the list."

So that's it: I'd scared him. I couldn't blame the ex-soldier for that either. Even so, I'm not going to stand here and get a dressing down.

"You'll know if I'm trying to kill you." Or, more likely, you won't.

He snorted. "That's comforting."

There's nothing I can, or want to, say about my current internal predicament. If he's going to believe I can keep my head on, I'll just have to do it.

"I'm good. Let's get moving before you cramp again."

The ex-soldier clearly wasn't satisfied with the short exchange, but that was his problem. Mine is making sure nothing like that happens again. Restrained fury is something I'm accustomed to, something I've used on countless occasions. What I've been feeling over the past few weeks hasn't been that.

I began north, up the destroyed highway nestled in the divot between hills.

"So how do we play this", Nate asked a few minutes later. I guess the 24 hours of relative silence was getting to him. The first half of the journey out had been quiet, he must be making up for it now.

The ex-soldier's voice was still tight, but he'd learned enough to know I wasn't interested in discussing my outburst. "We can't give the Brotherhood the plans to this Signal Interceptor. And we still need to figure out how to get the kids to Sanctuary."

Telling them about the Courser chip would be equally problematic. We don't know what their capacity is to reverse engineer technology like that. Is there anyone else who would be able to use the chip? Sturges might be helpful here; he's aware of the Institute, has a relatively advanced knowledge base, and I had the feeling he has more information than he told me. If he doesn't know how to access whatever information we need from the Courser chip, there can't be too many people around here who would. He may know who can.

"Sturges might know something that can help."

"Sturges?" I glanced at the ex-soldier. He didn't remember- right, he only spent two days in Sanctuary.

"He's the engineer living in Sanctuary."

"You think he'd be able to do this?" Incredulity had replaced the irritation in the armored man's voice.

"Don't know. He might know someone who can."

Silence reigned for a few minutes as we continued along the patchwork highway. The situation had become annoyingly complicated. The Brotherhood was the biggest roadblock, but the lack of information and available resources was becoming more prevalent. I never had to deal with issues like this; ONI had the best technology available, and if I found something new on an op, it generally wasn't critical to my mission objectives. Now-

"Shit."

Nate thudded down to the muddy remains of the road and my head whipped around. Where was the shooter? I hadn't heard any impact or report, but I'd learned long ago to never assume anything.

"Status?"

"Goddammit", he groaned. "I'm good. My hamstring tried to kill me."

I looked down at the ex-soldier who had an armored hand pressed to the back of his left leg. A pang of amusement rolled through my gut. Unfortunately, I know exactly the type of cramp he's talking about. Sometimes you wish it had killed you.

"You know, why aren't you dehydrated?" He sounded indignant.

"I am", I said, kneeling to help him back to his feet. I'd begun feeling an all too familiar dull ache behind my eyes around the time we got to the south end of the crater.

"Sure doesn't seem like it." I hoisted him into a standing position and shrugged. "I guess you're just better than me." Some of the ex-soldier's customary sarcasm started pushing through his bitter tone.

There was no resisting taking that stab. "Guess so."

He stared at me for a moment as he steadied himself. I could feel his eyes narrowed behind the helmet's lenses. "Was that… a joke?"

I shrugged again. "Only half of it."

"You know, you're an asshole." There was a soft laugh trailing his insult.

We began walking again, Nate limping noticeably, even with the armor. "Well I was going to say that might work for getting information about the chip, but what do we give Maxson?"

No ideas jumped to mind. Outright lying wouldn't work, I don't know enough about the Institute to do so convincingly, and as much as I'd like to, we can't leave yet. Until we get to the Institute, we'd be vulnerable.

"I wonder if they know about the teleporter network", the ex-soldier mused. "It might not matter. If we tell them about it without letting Maxson know we know how to use it, maybe, we might be able to buy ourselves some time." I met his gaze. "We tell them we need to find a way to access it. Virgil's story about how he escaped might be useful for selling that one too."

"How much did he want before releasing Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian."

"He didn't say. Have you figured out how we're going to get them out without being followed to Sanctuary?"

I nodded. "We need to keep them in Diamond City until we're ready to cut ties with the Brotherhood."

"Care to explain?"

"The longer they stay, the more relaxed whoever the Brotherhood have stationed in the city will be. I take them up to Sanctuary, alone, once we've made contact with the Institute."

The ex-soldier cocked his head. "Alone?"

"The fewer people the better. You can be a distraction to give us a head start."

He hesitated for a moment, still staring at me through the slits in his helmet. Even without seeing his face, I could tell that stung. My companion already felt like dead weight, and now I was taking away his opportunity to help the three of them get to safety.

"I take it you don't feel like debating that?"

"No. This isn't just about protection, it's about footprint."

After another moment's pause, he took a deep breath. "You make things both really easy and really hard at the same time."

"Whatever gets the job done."

The ex-soldier turned away and began studying our surroundings very intently. "I know", he said, barely a whisper. Another deep breath. "Okay, I'll talk to Maxson when we get back and debrief him on the teleportation system. I don't know if that will be enough for him to let us take the kids to Diamond City, but whenever that happens, I know someone there who might be willing to watch them."

Someone besides Ellie and Valentine? "Who?"

He groaned. "Piper Wright. A reporter. We met at the market. She heard I'm from 'down south' and wants to do an interview. I might be able to get her to let them stay in return."

Put those kids in a stranger's house? That sounded like a really bad idea.

"Don't worry about her", Nate said, as if reading my thoughts, "Piper and her sister, Nat, are good people. A lot of people in the town like them, so as long as the kids don't go wandering off, they should be safe."

"Do you have any guarantees about that?"

"No, but unless you know someone else in town, she's the best option we have."

The rebuttal was only half sarcastic.

Hmm. Working with a reporter sounded… horrible. I never had to deal with that, for obvious reasons, but I know plenty of IV's had to suffer through interviews and press events.

But Nate is right. The only other option is we cut ties with the Brotherhood early, which makes getting to the Institute exponentially more dangerous. Even so, I wasn't going to let her watch after the trio without getting a read on her first.

"I'll need an introduction first."

I felt the ex-soldier flash me a glance. "I know I won't be able to talk you out of that, but you'll regret it."

Oh, I know. She wasn't just a reporter, this Piper Wright was a reporter who had never seen or heard of a SPARTAN in a place where technology was as valuable as gold. But that didn't matter. Enduring the pestering questions that were sure to follow was worth's price of admission to make sure the three of them had a safe place to wait for a little while.

"It's fine."

"Just making sure you know what you're getting into." He chuckled. "Now we just have to make sure we get this 'Courser'. Think I might hang back and watch you work this time."

"Deathclaws?"

"I didn't want to be anywhere near those either."

"You aren't still upset?"

There was another short pause before the ex-soldier answered. "About being useless in a fight?" He grunted. "If you can deal with what happened to you, and get past the whole Supermutant thing, I can get over you doing the fighting. At least until we're shooting at regular people, not mutated monsters and supersoldiers. Whatever gets the job done, right?"

I met his gaze again. There was a note of grim determination in his voice. It was a tone I hadn't heard since he first made up his mind to head out across an unknown, likely hostile wasteland with nothing but the jumpsuit he'd been wearing.

"Right", I said with a nod.

"So we report back to Maxson, you go to CIT and hunt down a Courser while I work on getting Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian away from the Brotherhood."

Leave Nate alone at the airport with the trio? Nothing to buffer the Brotherhood's threat?

If he's going to swallow his pride and trust me with fighting, the least I can do is return the favor.

The situations are different: I'm dealing with physical threats, he's dealing with both physical and political.

And what happens if I'm there to deal with the physical threats? As much as I like to say otherwise, if it comes to fighting our way out of the airport, they aren't getting out alive, if I even do.

"Alright."

"Good. Now I just have to suffer through a few more hours of dehydration…"

x

The rest of the hump was uneventful. We had to deal with a few giant scorpions when we rejoined I-95, but it was still mostly clear from the day before. By the time the sun had begun its descent toward the western horizon, a large group of hazy, green storm clouds gathered to the south and began spearing the scarred landscape with bolts of lightning. That must be one of the radiation storms Valentine mentioned.

We had to stop a dozen times, Nate cramping more and more frequently. He was hobbling by the time we were in sight of the edge of the no fly zone. Even though I tried to hide it, I could feel the muscles in my legs beginning to tighten and ache from my own dehydration. It would have been a problem if we'd taken more than a few hours longer to find Virgil.

As soon as we reached the parking lot that marked our extraction, the ex-soldier found something to lean against and dropped, roughly, into a sitting position. I retrieved the stashed radio and called for pickup, a combination of excitement and tension started swirling. This is when things start getting hard.

The pounding rotors of a Vertibird split the silence that had blanketed our little part of the city, and a few minutes later the VTOL settled in the parking lot. The instant we were on board, Nate had his helmet off and the co-pilot handed him a canteen. He took slow, long pulls, and a sigh of relief exploded as the props began spinning up and the landing gear lifted from the broken concrete.

It was… tempting.

He offered the water to me, but I shook my head. As much as I wanted to relieve the excruciating dryness in my throat, we weren't out of danger.

"Are you ever going to take your helmet off in front of someone else", the ex-soldier shouted over the buffeting air.

Do I plan on taking it off in front of other people? Well I did, all the time, especially once I was assigned to Fourier's squad. Here? I haven't felt the need to, and the less time I spend around people here with my helmet off, especially the Brotherhood, the safer.

And the fewer questions I'll have to answer about my age.

"Maybe."

"Suit yourself." Nate took another long drink from the canteen.

The flight back to the Prydwen seemed to drag by. I know there's nothing they would have done to the three kids while we'd been gone, but I couldn't help the mounting concern.

It wasn't unfounded; the Brotherhood didn't need to spirit them away for this to go wrong. All they had to do was begin indoctrinating them while we were gone. Brainwashing isn't always overt at first. Plant the idea they're the only ones these kids can trust after having their world ripped to shreds, everything else follows. Cassandra is bright, and incredibly protective, but no one is immune.

We disembarked from the Vertibird to be greeted by a security detail of four armored Brotherhood soldiers.

"Paladins Marsaul and Danse are waiting to debrief you", one, Carter, said as we stopped in front of them.

And now it was time for the lying. I hope Nate had something convincing thought up. The story about the Relay might be enough to satisfy them, but if it wasn't, this could get interesting.

"Do you mind if we eat first", Nate asked, "it's been two days."

"They have food in the prep room."

The ex-soldier glanced at me. A sharp pain building in my right calf with the accompanying full body ache reminded me dehydration would only be held off so long, but I could make it another half hour.

I nodded and Nate turned back to the armored soldiers. "Okay."

They led us back through the still bustling hangar to the room at the bow of the airship where the two Paladin were waiting, Marsaul still not wearing a helmet. With the two of them, the rest of Danse's squad, Nate, and I, the relatively large space felt incredibly cramped. I hated it. I was going on 40 hours without sleep, all of it spent fighting my way through hostile territory, now suffering from dehydration. There was no reason to believe the Brotherhood would turn on us, unless Cassandra said something she shouldn't have, but my body didn't know that, it just knew it was in rough shape surrounded by potential threats.

Several tins of food and two large canteens sat on the table in the center of the room. It was tempting. I could imagine feeling cool, refreshing water sliding down my dry, aching throat. The thought of removing my helmet, compromising myself even further in the cramped quarters with these people overrode my sudden urge to follow Nate's example as he set his helmet on the table and grabbed one of the bottles.

"You don't want anything", Danse asked. As usual, the helmet made it impossible to know for sure, but I could feel his eyes drilling into me behind the narrow slits I almost shot him through when we first met.

"I'll wait until after the debrief."

"Speaking of", Nate cut in as he set the canteen back down, "let's get this over with; I need to get out of this tin can and sleep." He looked at the Paladin smart enough to keep his helmet on. "What do you want to know first?"

Danse, still glaring at me, huffed. "Where did you find this scientist?"

"Some hills northeast of Attleboro. He was in a cave with some pretty serious fortifications. Name was Virgil, he said Kellogg was coming after him." The ex-soldier squinted for a moment, thinking. "Kellogg is a-"

"We know who Kellogg was", Danse's eyes lingered on me an instant longer before moving to my companion. "It sounds like you dealt with him shortly before we arrived."

"Yeah, we did. Well he did at least, I was helping out a friend in Diamond city."

"The Synth's assistant, both of whom just happened to leave the city after you came to the Prydwen the first time."

If they knew we were lying to them, why would they continue helping? I could at least answer that question: they were using us the same way we were them.

"I don't think we need to worry about him infiltrating anything. He stands out in a crowd." Nate glanced down at the canteen, but didn't reach for it. "As far as Virgil goes, he said he escaped using something called a Molecular Relay. Apparently it's how The Institute sends people from their facility to the surface. There's no physical entrance."

"No physical entrance", Marsaul asked, "how does this thing work then, they, what, appear outside?"

The ex-soldier nodded. "Pretty much."

My mouth twisted into a razor thin smile as the Paladin's face grew incredulous. He was clearly looking for a different answer.

"How does it work", Danse said before the silence could extend any further.

"He didn't know, but he knows how to use it." Nate frowned. "Sort of. He escaped by uploading a signal directly to the system's servers and teleporting into the Glowing Sea."

Damn… that was a pretty good lie. I'll have to remember that.

"That isn't useful if we can't get into the Institute to upload a signal we don't have to a server we can't access."

My companion nodded. "We had another idea on the way back: Virgil said the Institute will send people up every once in a while, mostly Coursers. If they can get back to the Institute afterwards, they have to access the Relay somehow. I doubt we'll get an answer immediately, but we may be able to figure something out if we capture one."

The two Paladins glanced at each other and something passed between them in the quiet. I couldn't read either soldier, and as the silence extended on, I felt each armored Brotherhood around us, watching me.

"How do you propose we find one", Danse asked eventually.

"We go to CIT. Their base is under the campus. From what Virgil told us, the further they have to send someone, the more energy it takes. That means we'll be more likely to find a Courser or whoever else they send up there."

Wow. Nate had either put a lot of thought into how this would go on the walk back, or he was really good at coming up with bullshit on the spot. None of what he said was technically a lie, except for that last part, but he managed to breeze over gaping holes of information by offering solutions (sort of) before the questions could be asked.

"We'll put together a task force to accompany you."

I shook my head. "A large force is easier to spot. We'll handle this."

"None of us know exactly what Coursers are capable of. This is the best lead we've had on the Institute, I'm not leaving it up to you."

"We were your best lead when we went to find Virgil, and that was much more dangerous", Nate replied, "what makes this any different? I know you don't trust us, but we can take care of this. I'm sure you know having a smaller group that is familiar with each other is better than a large one who aren't. The last thing we need is to make mistakes and get in each other's way when we're up against the best the Institute has to offer."

"Then it may be safer to send my squad in."

Nate nodded. "Maybe, but you know how good he is." The ex-soldier motioned to me. "Don't risk your people if we can get what you need."

Danse looked between Nate and I, no doubt thinking about when I almost killed him and Haylen. "Like you said: I don't trust you."

"I hate to say it, but the feeling's mutual."

"Fortunately, I outrank you."

Nate frowned. "And if you're a good leader, you know if you have to pull rank to make your point, you aren't making a good one."

Now that's something I can relate to.

"No, but I can decide whether or not you pose a bigger risk than acceptable."

The ex-soldier shrugged, but his eyes never left Danse's. "That's your call to make, but you know what the safer option is."

The two men stared each other down. I was going to figure out a way to do this, regardless of the Paladin's 'orders', but Nate made a damn good argument. Was Danse smart (or stupid) enough to accept it?

"Fine", Danse said grudgingly, "but you're moving out in two hours, and we're attaching a scout detail to your Vertibird. They're going to report anything they find back to me, understood?"

"What? We just got back from a two day hike through the Glowing sea with no food or water."

"We need to act on this information as quickly as possible; if the Institute finds out you contacted Virgil, conditions will change if we wait. I can't take that risk, so either you do it, or my squad does."

I wasn't a fan of moving straight into the next operation, but competing with Danse and his squad wasn't an option here.

"That's no problem."

Nate's head twisted so quickly, I thought his neck might snap. "What?"

"Two hours will be enough time."

He groaned, but nodded. "Two hours."

"Good."

With that, we left the prep room. Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian were waiting in our temporary quarters. The three of them wanted to hear all about the 'adventure' (I could only imagine what they would think about my fight with the deathclaws), but I didn't have time. I needed to eat, drink and sleep.

Nate excused himself to get out of his armor while the kids pestered me with questions.

"What was it like", Julian asked, almost bouncing. "Was it full of monsters?"

Thomas looked more excited than any person I'd seen in a decade. "Did you fight anything big there?"

I glanced at Cassandra who managed a small smile. When she noticed my gaze she shook her head. "We've all heard stories about the Glowing Sea. Giant insects that can eat you. Yao Gui, Deathclaws, Su-" The young girl faltered. "You know."

"There were some of those, none of them though." Except Virgil.

"So did you fight any of them?" Julian was standing directly in front of me at this point, staring straight up into my visor.

"Yes."

"You have to tell us!"

Oh boy…

Five minutes of dodging questions, mostly by not answering them, later, Nate came and took the kids to the galley, which gave me the opportunity to finally drink something.

I grabbed a few MRE's I'd stashed and the second canteen from the prep-room before sitting against the wall. Pulling my helmet off, I took a long, deep pull from the too small mouth of the bottle. Drinking too much too quickly while dehydrated was a great way to get cramps, but I didn't care. The cool water rushing over my dry, aching throat was too soothing.

After satisfying my parched throat and empty stomach, I left to find the others. I didn't want to leave them again this soon. The more time we spent away, the more the Brotherhood would be able to sink their talons into them. What could I do though?

Nate was with the kids, eating in the galley. As I entered, he stood from their table and nodded toward the door, something strange on his tired face.

"I'll be right back", I heard the smaller man whisper to Cassandra.

She nodded and he started toward me. He wanted to talk in private?

We walked back out into the hangar and he stopped just outside of a technician working on a set of T-60 armor's earshot.

"Do you think you'll need help on this?"

I squinted. "Can't know for sure. Why?"

Nate looked back toward the galley, and I didn't need the answer. "I can't leave them here alone again."

So he was thinking the same thing. It was heartening to know he was just as worried about them, but what happens if the Brotherhood decide to end this strange partnership while I'm gone?

The same thing that would happen if Nate was with me. The difference is, he might be able to do something about it.

It wasn't the worst idea. If all went well I'd be back in a few hours anyway.

And I don't have to do everything myself.

I smiled. Fourier would be proud. The thought of him beaming at my 'progress' made me want to puke.

As I studied the smaller man it made sense to leave him here anyways. His slumped shoulders, shaking hands, and blank face said he was exhausted. Bringing him along would only be a liability, and with the shape I'm in, I can't risk making a mistake that costs him. He might not be able to fight his way out of the Prydwen if shit hit the fan, but he was a damn sight better than leaving them alone.

"I'll deal with this."

The smaller man looked relieved. "Thanks."

I nodded. "I shouldn't take too long."

He smirked. "Right, of course. Go get some sleep then, you probably need it more than I do, especially if you have to fight a Courser."

If Virgil didn't over sell them.

x

CIT's campus was large and relatively unscathed. It may be from its location in the center of Boston with, what were at one point, massive buildings surrounding it on all sides. Most had collapsed, forming massive piles of rubble all around, making egress… difficult. It took me long enough to find a break in the mounds of steel and concrete debris ringing the college, I was tempted to risk climbing over what would most likely be dangerously unstable heaps. If the Courser showed up before I got inside, my chances of tracking it down dropped dramatically.

Algolis.

This looked a helluva lot like the ONI base on Algolis, a classified facility where Project CHRYSANTHEMUM got its start. They wanted me to secure any remaining intel and liquidate all other assets in the small, low lying base. That was one of the few ops I ran ONI's intelligence turned out to be bogus. A remnant of the Freedom and Liberation Party were there, searching the ruins of the base for information on the SPARTAN III program.

That made it personal.

The UNSC's policy for dealing with the FLP was zero tolerance. I obliged. It wasn't until I returned to the ONI prowler I learned it was because 45 years earlier, they detonated a HAVOK on Mamore. It killed over two million people.

That made me happy I'd turned their base into a bullet riddled mass grave. Then a smoking crater. I left it up to the eggheads to figure out what the FLP had found.

Eventually, I found a pathway that looked like it was made by a small explosion. Smaller pieces of rubble were covering the ground with gradually sloping sides that came together in a narrow V shape, like the debris wanted to keep whoever had done it out, but didn't have enough concrete to refill the hole.

The campus itself was a collection of smaller structures surrounding a large, central building that looked like it was built long before the bombs fell. White had faded into dull grey with strange arches and pillars in front of most entrances. I think the style is called Art Deco, but I never paid much attention to that.

I spent the first thirty minutes of the search making my way around the campus, radio I'd gotten from Danse searching for any low band interference. Problem was, I had no clue how long it would take for one of these things to come out. Operating on less than two hours of sleep, I needed to conserve as much energy as possible.

So despite my own internal protests, I found a spot with decent visual cover, and settled down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And I hated every second of it.

Sometimes I wish I could make things happen through sheer force of will. Unfortunately that isn't how the world works.

The sun had set behind the city's broken skyline, darkness swallowing the wasteland when, finally, a consistent low whine of static began drifting through my radio's small speaker.

Time to move.

It took another ten minutes of skirting through the crumbling buildings until I eventually tracked the source of the signal.

The interference was slowly growing weaker, but the gunfire coming from the tower was a pretty good clue. It was taller than any other building in the area, but lacked the ornate styling of the surrounding structures.

I wasn't here to admire the architecture though. Its perimeter was clear, but with only one obvious entrance and whatever festivities happening inside already kicked off, I didn't have time to find another. With the volume of reports, whoever was inside would be preoccupied with their current fight.

I moved to the front entrance, and the doors, sensing my presence slid open. That was impressive; after 200 years of disrepair, the motion sensor and motors were still working.

As I slipped inside, I found myself in a large, multistory lobby. A wide balcony was suspended above me and the room's staircase set in the opposite wall. Dead plants occupied long ignored planters scattered around the massive room, piles of broken tiles, rubble, and trash littering the floor. The second floor had several doorways to halls further into the building. The gunfire sounded like it was coming from somewhere above.

Then there were the bodies. Between the ones on the ground floor, those hanging over the banister, and laying on the balcony and walkway at least a half dozen dead Gunners littered the lobby. A quick check of a body splayed over the receptionist desk revealed scorched holes burned through the dead man's head. Yeah, unless the Brotherhood was here, that would be the Institute.

"The Courser's heading up to the control room" a voice exploded from a hidden overhead speaker, "kill on sight. Send reinforcements to the lobby in case there are more."

That answered that. These guys don't have comms? I began forward into the lobby, moving toward the walkway spanning the center of the massive room. Announcing their movements on a building wide intercom was… stupid.

Boots clanged on metal above me as a group of the mercenaries pounded down one of the adjoining halls. While we may have been trying to maintain a… non-violent relationship with the Gunners, I wasn't going to risk the Courser getting away, and I doubt they'd be in any mood to talk. If I was going to catch up I'd have to employ the old go to: move fast, hit hard.

As the running reached the doorway, my legs coiled I leapt up to the walkway above. I grabbed the railing with my left hand to swing myself over and caught sight of three Gunners sprinting into the lobby. Bringing my rifle around as I vaulted the banister, I squeezed off a round one-handed that slammed into the lead mercenary's neck and he tumbled to the ground.

The others began scrambling for cover as my armored boots thudded to the thick steel floor and I shot the one on the right in the temple just before he made it behind the wall.

"Son of a- who the hell are you", the last man shouted. "You with that Courser bastard?"

The gunfire was getting further away, I didn't have time to wait.

I sprung forward, the gunner leaned out just in time to receive a swinging armored elbow to the face. The force of the blow crushed his head against the door jam and turned into a splatter across the wall.

Before the body slumped to the ground, more footsteps thundered down a set of stairs somewhere down the hall to my right. I sprinted through the corridor, rifle up and the instant the first mercenary, a dark skinned woman with even darker hair tied back in a bun, rounded the corner, I put a round through her head and turned the bottom of the staircase into a collage of brain and bone. The next man tried to stop himself from entering my line of fire, but his head just edged into the passage before he could and its contents joined the macabre art on the opposite wall. They were panicked, in a hurry. That Courser had them scrambling.

Still sprinting full speed, I dropped to my knees, sliding around the corner, my armor making a shrill screech on the steel tile floor. A third and fourth Gunner were pulling their weapons up, as I shot the closer one twice in the neck. The second managed to get a round off, but it was hurried and went wide, hitting the wall behind me before I dropped him with another headshot.

I got my feet back under me as my momentum carried me into the wall and I lunged up the stairs, taking them four at a time. The blue lit hall on the floor above was empty save a pile of furniture about half way down, blocking it, but the staircase to the next level was completely obstructed by rubble. I sprinted down the hall and ducked into the first doorway on the right. It looked like an office space, with orange painted walls separating several desk spaces and a large enclosure full of filing cabinets at the end. No more Gunners though.

The gunfire above me was still going strong, but I couldn't tell if it was moving further away. I burst back out into the hall-

And into a group of mercenaries who had been sitting in wait at the bottom of a ramp made by the collapsed floor above.

They clearly weren't prepared for someone to jump straight into their midst. The one closest to the door I'd exited was just beginning to turn when I launched a snap kick into his chest and the green combat armor over his torso shattered like glass. As he careened back and slammed into the makeshift ramp, I brought my rifle around and fired off two more rounds that blew the next Gunner's brains over the first man's destroyed chest.

The third was just bringing his weapon up as I pivoted to him. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, full of abject terror. I swatted the sidearm away as he squeezed the trigger and the projectile crashed into the ceiling. He doubled over, dropping the handgun and grabbing for his left wrist as I followed the strike up by caving his head in with the stock of my rifle.

Up the ramp, I crossed another walkway, dispatching the solitary Gunner on the opposite end with a shot through his left eye before swapping for a fresh magazine. The opposite end was a small kitchen or break area, but other than my victim and a trio of other dead bodies, killed by laser fire, the room was empty. The hall outside told a similar story, bullet holes riddling the wall to my left, while down the passage to my right was a half dozen bodies splayed across the floor.

As I fought my way through a server room full of extremely old looking computers with another squad of Gunners, the voice came back over the intercom. "I need a report sector two. What's your status?" Whoever it was sounded much more rattled.

I could hear another half dozen mercenaries sprinting down the hall outside. Leaning through the door, I sighted on the first and put a round through his head and one other before the others scattered, most turning out onto another walkway overlooking the lobby.

Dispatching the one man who remained in the corridor, I slipped out to the opening-

Shit.

And ducked back as one of the men on the walkway let off a rocket. It streaked from the opposite side of the room, past the other Gunners, who were laying flat on the walkway, and through the door. I dove away as it impacted the opposite wall, the explosion sending shrapnel along with the blast of overpressure chasing me down the hall. Whatever that RPG was packing, the shockwave hit hard enough to flare my shields and send me tumbling down the passage, metal shards careening off of my depleting energy barrier. My head was spinning from the explosion.

I couldn't hear the approaching footsteps, but if the Gunners had avoided the overpressure, they would be pushing into the hall. Still laying on the ground, I twisted and brought my rifle around just in time to see the first one enter my line of sight and dropped her with a headshot. The next one was just as anxious, practically jumping over his dead comrade's body to take his own round in the left eye.

The third didn't follow in his friends' footsteps, so I scrambled to my feet and slipped down the hall until I was just about to cross back into the opening.

Deep breath.

Dropping into a low crouch, I leaned back out, just far enough to get my rifle around the door jam, and put a round into the terrified looking mercenary backpedalling down the walkway. The last one, carrying the rocket launcher, was just shouldering it again as I put him down too. His finger squeezed the trigger, sending the explosive warhead into the walkway at his feet. It blew a meter wide section out of the bridge and sent his smoking body parts scattering across the wall behind the spot he'd been kneeling.

With a new magazine in my rifle, I pushed down the walkway and over the new, still smoking hole. The next minute was spent fighting through the adjoining hall and office space before reaching another staircase. This one was littered with more dead Gunners and the telltale warped and scorched metal of several explosions.

"The Courser's after the girl. Anyone alive needs to get to the top floor immediately, that's an order!" The mercenary commander was in full blown panic by this point. I couldn't blame him; his forces were being massacred by at least two unknown parties. If I'd caught the Courser earlier, I might have been able to save him the trouble, but I wasn't going to waste my time worrying about guns for hire.

That unease was clearly carrying over to his people; while the squad Kleo hired to ambush us was well organized with fairly sound, if unrefined tactics, these ones were practically throwing themselves into gunfire. Bad leaders get people killed in more ways than one.

At the top of the stairs was a much larger room, maybe an office or another lobby. Only one Gunner was still alive, surrounded by his dead comrades. The man was older, maybe mid-30's, his armor had seen better days with multiple laser strikes over his chest, cradling an HK-33. He had the horrified thousand yard stare I'd seen, and put on, plenty of enemies, but as soon as I crested the staircase, his attention snapped to me.

I wasn't taking any chances. The moment I saw him register me, I put a round through the bridge of his nose, and the last survivor of whatever fight happened here crumpled to the ground.

There was a door behind him leading into another large area with a staircase that split in the center of the room, leading up to balconies on either side. Furniture, filing cabinets and more ancient computers were scattered around both levels. Most of it looked like hastily made cover. The mercenaries lying dead on my floor and the walkways above attested to its effectiveness. Had the Gunner in the last room been left alive on purpose? Probably not, more than likely, with those near-penetrations on his chest plate, he'd been lucky.

After a quick search, the only way further up was the elevator on the staircase's landing. The Gunner commander had said the Courser was heading for the elevator, and whoever was left alive would be on the top floor. The lift was the only obvious way of reaching it, and I couldn't risk backtracking to find another way up. If I lost this target, I had no way of knowing when I'd get another chance, if I ever would. If these things were as good as everyone keeps telling me, it would know I'm hunting it.

Dammit… This is a great way to get ambushed.

Again.

I crammed myself into the elevator and the cables groaned as it lifted me toward whatever lay above.

The room I exited into was… very different from the rest of the tower. The center had a fence surrounding large conduits running vertically from the floor, up through the ceiling of the massive space four meters above. On either side were large server banks likewise protected by thick steel cages. The levels below had looked distinctly like civilian office space, this felt military. Whatever had been happening here prior to the war, the people in charge wanted to keep it secret. Maybe it was natural curiosity, or maybe it was the intel gather side of my training, but discoveries like this always piqued my interest

Unfortunately, whatever this facility had been used for, it was used for that over two centuries ago and had no consequences on my current objective.

As I made my way through a door on the far side of the room, checking the numerous corners for stragglers as I went, the sounds of an interrogation reached me from somewhere above.

"I- I don't know the password", the terrified voice stammered, pleading. "I'm telling the truth."

"I don't believe you are", came a robotic response. That's probably my target.

The next room had a staircase leading up through a large open space connecting to two floors above me.

"Oh god… please, no." Whoever it was sounded young. "No, please, you do have to-"

The begging was cut short by a laser weapon report as I slipped up the metal stairs, setting my titanium armored boots on each step as gently as possible. MJOLNIR is an outstanding piece of kit, but it does have its drawbacks.

The second floor empty and talking still coming from above, I began the climb to the next level.

"All he had to do was tell me the password", the Courser's slow, deliberate voice continued. "Now, are you going to cooperate?"

So it had multiple prisoners. Killing the first one quickly wasn't a very effective interrogation technique, but I doubt these people needed much, mine didn't. It was, at least, better than most novice tactics

As I crested the staircase, a blue spear flashed over my left shoulder and seared into the wall behind me. Most of the time, you don't do this unless you're trying to scare the person you're shooting at. If the Courser had been trying to kill me with that shot, it would have waited until I was in clear view.

Doing what the other guy wants is almost never a good idea.

I leapt up the remaining stairs, rifle leveled at the wide doorway to their right and caught a glimpse of a long black jacket as the Courser took cover inside the next room. There were several doors along the back wall with a railing separating another caged block of vertical pipes and cables from the surrounding walkway.

"You've been following me." The statement was eerily robotic. I can't say I'm the most emotionally active person, but this thing took that to a new level.

At least it's smart enough to figure that out.

"What do you want?"

Skirting the wall, I crept toward the wide door, trying to get a better look inside. There were four Gunners on the right side of the room, two dead, and two on their knees. Unless there was an alcove I couldn't see, the Courser was tucked in the near right corner-

A slight distortion in the air caught my attention at the edge of the doorway. It could have passed for heat shimmer, but I'd seen too many Covenant and Insurrectionists using active camo to believe that.

I dove through the door as the first arc of blue light speared from the Courser's rifle and flashed through the space I'd just vacated.

This bastard has active camo. That's interesting.

Another laser burned into my shields before I had a chance to find my feet again, and a third just missed as I ducked to the side and returned fire.

My first shot connected with the center of the wavering image, but the second went wide and hit the wall just over one of the dead mercenaries. The others yelped and curled into the fetal position.

Even if I knew the Courser was there, the active camouflage made tracking it difficult, especially in the poor illumination provided by the hundreds years old lights above.

At this point, I had two choices: keep my distance, and hope I could get enough hits on the target to disrupt its camo or kill it before it could kill me, or close on the synth and limit its movements and options. That provided its own challenges, but I've never been a fan of the passive approach.

I squeezed off two more rounds and the shimmering silhouette shifted to the right. As soon as the second projectile left my rifle, my tensed legs drove into the metal floor and propelled me toward the Courser. The thing's shimmering kept sliding to the right, so as I soared across the intervening dozen meters, I jerked my right leg to my chest and stuck the same arm out. My body rotated and as I passed by the camouflaged target, my forearm slammed into it.

Grasping for anything I could get a hold of, my fist filled with cloth, maybe its jacket, and I pulled it to the ground with me. Another laser speared out from the Courser's rifle and splashed against my weakening shields.

As we crashed to the floor, something slammed into the soft armor over my neck and my grip loosened just enough that my momentum ripped the Courser from my hand. I twisted, skidding across the floor, armor screeching along the steel panels, and rolled backward onto my feet.

Another blue laser flashed toward my head. I ducked and put another half dozen rounds into the center of the humanoid shimmer.

The shimmer flickered black, and a split second later, the Courser's scrambling form resolved from its semi-transparent camouflage. Whatever that tech was, it's resilience was incredible. But now, the bastard's primary defense was gone.

The Synth fired at me as it tried to put space between us. I could have chased it around the railing, but if the number of dead Gunners was anything to judge by, this thing knew what it was doing. Maybe I get to the Courser before it can retaliate, but now I had a clear visual, it wouldn't be getting away. This was the right time to play it safe, especially with a capable opponent.

So I paused as it careened around the opposite side of the cage. I just needed to wait…

I put a round through a gap between two of the pipes in the center of the fenced area, punching through the thin steel mesh, and it crashed into my prey's left knee.

It stumbled, but didn't drop.

What the hell?

The Synth returned fire through the cage and a handful of blue lances found their way past the cluster of pipes and burned through my side of the fencing before slamming into me and the wall behind. My shields' low energy alarm started chirping in my helmet.

I squeezed off two more rounds, both aimed at the Synth's left knee. After the second one, the limb buckled and my target dropped to the ground.

The thing wasn't done though.

It pitched sideways so its head and shoulders emerged from around the cage and it emptied the rest of its Fusion Cell at me. I dove away as several more lances crashed into my shields, depleting them, and past the two remaining Gunner prisoners. Several of the bursts careened past me, hitting one of the mercenaries and he dropped to the steel floor, chest and head smoking.

With the Courser crippled, I circled around the cage as it discarded the laser rifle, and pulled a smaller version, must have been a handgun, from beneath its jacket. I shot it twice through the right shoulder and it fumbled the weapon, its arm falling uselessly to its side.

"Who are you", the Synth deadpanned. The lack of emotion was almost disconcerting at this point. I'd never seen anything, human or Covie, greet what was undoubtedly going to be its death with such apathy. Humans, it was usually fear, covenant would range anywhere from pure rage to screaming terror. My thoughts cast back to Kellogg… some were relieved. "You aren't from the Brotherhood, so what do you want?"

It was still asking questions? Now? That wasn't my concern at this point. The question now is where is that chip? Virgil had said it was in the thing's head, but not where.

I put a round through its neck, careful to miss its spine and the base of its skull. The medium sized projectile punched through the Courser's traquea and air whistled out of the new, structurally superfluous hole as the Synth struggled for breath.

Then its skin began writhing, tissue around the wound trying to knit itself back together like it had been injected with a Stimpak.

Oh shit, that meant-

Rushing forward, I planted my right foot on the thing's chest hard enough I felt a crack beneath my armored boot. My target glared at me as its now healed right arm scrambled for the discarded sidearm. I emptied the rest of my magazine into the thing's chest, just over my foot, but it didn't stop reaching for its weapon.

This thing is annoyingly persistent.

I leaned onto the Courser's chest until I felt another snap and it's sternum collapsed under the better part of half a ton. It finally showed some sign it was in trouble when its other hand reached for something beneath its jacket. I loaded a new magazine and put another trio of projectiles through the Synth's neck.

Crimson began gurgling up through my target's destroyed windpipe, and its struggling began to slow. The skin and muscle was still trying to repair itself, but the Courser fell unconscious a few moments later, drowning in its own blood.

After a minute or so, the resilient bastard finally died.

"Holy shit." My eyes snapped to the one remaining Gunner. "What are you?"

He was the oldest I'd seen so far, bald, wearing only a chest plate with no additional protection, unlike the others. Was he their leader? Why would the Synth leave him alive? The first person you kill in these circumstances is the commander. Unless... "What did he want from you?"

The shock on his face quickly turned to anger. "Why would I tell you?"

"Because I asked."

"Fu-"

"He wanted me", another, female voice called from behind a door to the mercenary's right.

So the Gunners have a prisoner. Right, the commander had announced the Synth was after 'the girl'.

I grabbed the dead Courser and carried it over to the collection of mercenary corpses. Valentine told me Coursers track escaped Synths. If this guy killed his way through the Gunners here to get her, that's the only reasonable explanation.

Setting the body down, I walked over to look through the slotted window beside the steel door. Inside was a short woman, maybe mid-20's, dressed in a tattered brown shirt and pants.

"They locked me in here when the Courser came knocking." She looked terrified. "That bastard deserved to die. I don't know if it's why you came, but could you get me out of here? They put the passcode for the door's terminal in that toolbox over there." The Synth pointed to a small red box sitting beside one of the many piles of rubble around the room.

I glanced at the Gunner behind me, still cowering by the wall. Locking her in there doesn't make sense for her protection. The only reason they would have done it is to keep her from slipping away during the chaos of a battle.

"You're a Synth?"

She nodded.

I looked at the mercenary. "Did you know?"

"... Yeah."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on then: if they were going to kill her, they would have put a bullet in the Synth's head and saved themselves the trouble. I didn't know what their aptitude for advanced tech is, but it didn't matter much, they were either going to enslave, study, or sell her. More than a few of the other SPARTAN-III recruits had been cycling through traders' hands before ONI picked them up; I'd heard most of their stories before I was split off. A twinge of the same fury that I'd felt when I was at West Everett Estates flared at the back of my mind. It isn't eating people, but it isn't much better.

Saving the Synth wasn't a mission objective, but if I didn't let her go and I left the mercenary alive, she'd still be taken by the Gunners and sold, put to work, or turned into a lab experiment. If I killed the mercenary, she'd be trapped and I might as well put a bullet in her myself.

"Open the door."

His expression shifted from angry and scared to confused. "What?"

"Open the door."

"Why?"

I squared my shoulders to the Gunner, looming over him. "I'm not playing this game."

The Gunner stared up at me. He had to know I fought my way through the men this Courser hadn't killed. He'd seen me kill the Courser too, there was no way he was under the delusion he could beat me in a fight, so what was he trying to accomplish?

Why didn't I just shoot him? I don't need his cooperation if the passcode is written on something.

The Gunner hesitated a moment longer before standing and stalked to a computer set in the wall next to the door. After a few seconds of typing, the rusty steel screeched open and the Synth hurried out.

The look of relief on the woman's face was so intense, I could almost feel it. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

If I brought her back with me, the Brotherhood would either shoot her on sight, or do the same thing the Gunners probably would have. And I don't need someone else to babysit. But letting her go had its own… drawbacks. Nate and I already had an extremely tentative ceasefire with the Gunners, the last thing I needed was her spouting off to someone about how I rescued her from the Institute and band of mercenaries. "I can't bring you with me. Do you know where you're going?"

"Goodneighbor."

Huh. That's a convenient excuse. "The people there don't like me much. I'd recommend not mentioning me to anyone."

She squinted at me for a few seconds. "Okay… you don't want people to know you were here?"

"Correct."

The Synth shrugged. "We all have our secrets. I won't talk to anyone about you if that's what you want. It's the least I can do. The name's Jenny by the way."

I nodded. "The way out is clear."

Jenny hesitated. "Again I-" she paused and offered me a bright, mile wide smile. "Thank you so much."

I nodded again and the fugitive left, but not before casting an angry glance at the mercenary commander.

What to do with him? My gaze shifted from the now empty doorway to the man who seemed like he was trying to melt into the steel plated wall. As far as I know, the commander is the last living mercenary. Rule number one for keeping a low profile: no witnesses. More than that, there aren't many things I find reprehensible (outside of cannibalism that is), it would be hard for me to do my job if I did, but whatever the Gunners had planned for the escaped Synth would probably have been… unpalatable. The image these people are painting for me isn't a great one.

I say that after killing a few dozen of them.

I'm not the one dealing in slave trade.

Did I know that at the time?

No, but I do know about what happened in Quincy.

And they're mercenaries.

"So, what, you want me to keep my mouth shut about seeing you too", the commander asked. He must have taken my silent stare as a cue for him to say something. "You got it. Whatever you want, I just want to get out of here in one piece."

Keep your mouth shut? I was under no delusions; he would talk as soon as there was no risk of retaliation. People will say anything to stay alive. I didn't have much reason to keep the Gunner alive. Not only was he a security risk, but the Gunners themselves were climbing up my 'to do' list. They weren't at Kleo's level, that one is a bit more personal, but they weren't far off.

I could imagine Nate standing behind me, his anger and frustration drilling into my back, but this is my op. Like I said, I've already killed a few dozen, what's one more?

One more.

This isn't just about me and my kill count; the more I expose myself, the more danger I put Nate and to an extent, Sanctuary in. If the Gunners get wind I wiped out a platoon (alongside a Courser), after our… ceasefire, they'd come after me full bore. If they somehow discover I'm associated with Preston's group, which they probably would with me going back and forth to the settlement, it would put them in the crosshairs.

Unfortunately for him, this isn't the same as that young guard in Goodneighbor.

My sights snapped to the mercenary's head and before he had a chance to register shock, the high velocity, full metal jacket round punched through his forehead. Its ballooning effect shattered the back of his skull and scattered his brain across the floor of the makeshift cell.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to the dead Courser's body. How the hell am I supposed to find that chip?

x

The hump back to my exfil was uncomfortably quiet and uneventful. The sun was setting on the dead city, and besides the odd, distant gunshot, there was nothing. No animals, no Raiders, no Gunners, no Supermutants. It was almost like the city had seen enough killing for the day. I couldn't complain about that last part, at least it gave me time to come up with something to tell the Brotherhood. The trek through the Glowing Sea and now this fight- a hot shower hadn't sounded so good in a long time.

Too bad I had no idea when I'd get one of those next.

The next best thing would be a hot meal and at least a few hours of sleep.

I radioed for pickup and reached the large, empty dirt square that had probably once been a park a few minutes after the sun had disappeared behind Boston's crumbling skyline. As I listened to the approaching Vertibird, my mind wandered to the Courser's chip sitting in my satchel. It had been at the base of the Synth's skull, near where a standard UNSC neural interface connected, and about the same size as a playing card. The small circuit board looked like any other, but this one somehow connected to a science fiction writer's wet dream, even for me. It meant I was now a significant step closer to reaching the Institute, which brought up the same question I've been asking myself for weeks: what if they can't send me back?

The idea I might be stuck in this place, some bastardized version of Earth… the more I thought about it, the more uncomfortable it was. My armor was incredibly resilient, but eventually it would fail, especially if I have to fight like this constantly. I could stay in good enough shape, but would I ever be comfortable enough in a place like this to settle into any sort of routine?

What was possibly the most disconcerting part was how limited this life would be. I've been to dozens of planets, each with its own unique environment and landscape, from the cold, rocky canyons of Algolis, to the hot, glassed surface of Madrigal… to Reach's now destroyed rolling hills and lush forests. I've watched the sun rise over countless different horizons, hell even seen a few binary system dawns and dusks. And the stars… always different, but still comforting.

Sure, I was in most of those places to train or fight, but every once in a while, I can appreciate the experience.

I've seen and done things the people here could never appreciate, and that thought was almost as uneasy. They'd more than likely never leave this destroyed version of Earth. Who knows, if the Covenant are still out there, they may still find this place and finish the job this humanity started a few hundred years ago. Maybe they'd light off the Halo rings and in an instant, the galaxy would be wiped clean, and these people would never know what was coming.

As I heard my ride approach, I shook the thoughts from my head. One problem at a time. The Vertibird set down a dozen meters from me and I jogged over to climb aboard. I still don't have access to whatever is in this chip that connects it to the relay, and I still have to find someone who can build the damn thing.

My ride lifted off the ground as I thought about the next move. Going to Sturges was probably still the best option, but I'd have to lose whoever the Brotherhood would have watching me. The Brotherhood had no way of knowing exactly what happened inside, but they'd know I was in a gunfight. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent the recon squad in after I returned to the Prydwen. They would know I killed a Courser, but with its head turned to pulp after I found the chip, they wouldn't know I'd taken anything off its body. Maxson wasn't stupid, he'd know I at least had some new information. We were operating against the clock, and eventually it would hit zero. The question is would we have everything we needed before that happened?

Fifteen minutes later, I found myself standing in front of Danse on the docking station. This time he hadn't even waited for me to get to the prep room. He, and the rest of his team, were all in full gear. Like Nate said: the distrust was mutual.

"That didn't seem too difficult, Knight, care to explain why you were so insistent on doing this on your own? And without your friend?" The Paladin's voice was controlled, but bordered on furious.

"Nate did."

He gave a curt nod. "I want to hear it from you."

I cocked my head. Danse knew Nate had been lying, at least in part. They were right to be wary, but I'm used to more… binary backstabbing: either more subtle efforts between competing ONI agents, or outright attacks. Those were always interesting. This middle ground of barely restrained hostility only made me want the fight more.

"You want me to repeat what he said?"

"Yes."

"I move faster without you, and the less the Institute knows about our involvement with you, the better. Nate stayed behind because he was in no shape to fight after the Glowing Sea." Neither of those statements were untrue, but the Paladin was smart enough to know that didn't mean it was the entire story. In fact, the candor probably raised alarms for the soldier, I know it would for me.

"You don't think they already know?"

I shrugged. "We won't know until we know." The answer was lazy, but at this point, I didn't need this conversation going on any longer than necessary. Hunger and fatigue were beginning to fray my temper, and I still had to lie about what I'd found.

"I don't-"

"Are you going to interrogate me, or is this the debrief?"

Danse fell silent, glaring at me through my faceplate. At this point I couldn't tell if it was residual anger from almost killing him and Haylen, distrust, or a combination of both.

"What did you find out", the Brotherhood soldier finally asked.

"Courser was hunting an escaped Synth the Gunners had captured. Fought my way to the target before it got away with the fugitive-"

"Is that the woman who was seen leaving shortly before you?"

So they saw her leave too. Not a surprise. "Yes."

"And why didn't you capture it?" Now the Paladin's voice was outright accusatory.

"Capturing a Synth wasn't the mission, and dragging her through the city would have been an unnecessary risk."

"That isn't for you to decide. Getting our hands on any of those abominations is first priority."

Right. He wasn't going to let this go, and it's already getting on my nerves. "Hauling an uncooperative passenger through a hostile environment alone isn't what I signed up for."

"Maybe you shouldn't have gone alone then."

Oh fuck off. Working with these people was already aggravating enough without this, I checked it though; starting something here, while it may be cathartic, wouldn't be helpful.

"I'll take that under advisement. Their teleportation system uses nodes, like a comm network. The Coursers use relays to access it." While, again, it wasn't technically a lie, it was missing a key piece of information currently sitting in my satchel, wrapped in gauze.

"And you learned this how?"

"The Courser."

Danse stared at me for a moment. I could feel his narrowed eyes through the thin lenses in his helmet. "Our reports suggest Coursers wouldn't be susceptible to torture. They don't seem to feel pain, or don't care about it."

That was certainly true, the bastard took a dozen rounds and never flinched. "They heal quickly. The effect looks like a Stimpak." If this went on any longer, I'd run out of lies, and making bullshit up on the spot isn't my strong suit. I'll leave that to Nate.

Besides, Danse was thoroughly on my nerves, and all I wanted was food and some sleep.

"So you managed to get this out of it before turning its head into a smear across the floor?"

He knew I was hiding something important, but I wasn't going to think up any convincing lie on the spot.

"Yes. I'm done with this interrogation."

With that, I sidestepped the Paladin and walked past him and his squad. To my surprise, none of them tried to stop me. Did they buy my story (at least in part), or were they trying to make me believe they're buying it? Or was it they expected to get information elsewhere? I didn't leave anything they would be able to use back at CIT. Besides figuring out I killed my fair share of the mercenaries, released a Synth, and killed the Courser, there was nothing to find. But I always have to entertain the possibility I missed something. If that's the case, and they do figure out I'm lying, or what I'm lying about, our timetable is about to get a lot shorter.

Life is so much simpler when all I have to worry about is shooting things.

After finding a quiet place to eat (not easy to do on the Prydwen), I stalked back to the small quarters the Brotherhood had given us where I found Nate and the three kids waiting. The relief was palpable, seeing nothing had happened to the four of them, yet, but if I was being honest with myself, the exhaustion overrode just about everything. Julian and Thomas were sitting on a cot with Cassandra, the ex-soldier against the opposite wall. Had he been telling more stories? Knowing how much he liked talking, probably.

"You don't look any worse for wear", he quipped as I ducked through the bulkhead door. "Did Virgil oversell Coursers?"

I glared at the smaller man, but I couldn't find the irritation to put behind it.

"No."

The four of them watched me as I removed my satchel, set it next to the sniper rifle, and slid into a sitting position against the wall.

"Hmm." Nate squinted at me. "What happened?"

"Gunners. The Courser was attacking them to recover a Synth they'd captured."

His expression changed from curious to worried. "And?" The ex-soldier cast a glance at the trio.

"You don't need to worry about any info getting back to their leadership."

"That isn't as comforting as you think it is."

Comforting? Comforting doesn't matter if it means you get shot. I shrugged. That problem is handled; we had more immediate ones to worry about. "Maxson?"

"No", Nate said, "We aren't doin-" He looked at the kids again who were watching us. Cassandra looked more interested than anything. "Let's take this outside."

Why does everyone want to bother me now? I'd gotten less than 2 hours of sleep in the last 70, and spent most of that time fighting. Danse had already annoyed me, now this asshole wants to get in on the action?

"Why?"

"Because I'm done leaving things wherever you decide to drop them." He stood and swung the door open with a gentle creek.

"I need to sleep."

He shrugged. "Then talk quickly."

I was more than a little tempted to ignore him and ask about his conversation with the Elder tomorrow. It isn't like anything would change between now and then.

That isn't what I'd call 'cooperative'.

Cooperative?

Didn't I decide I was going to work with him?

I don't need him to like me for it to work.

Uh, yes I do. Or at least I need him to be cooperative too. I don't make it this far on my own, and I don't make it to the Institute without him at this point, let alone getting the kids out of here.

My face twisted in a grimace. I really need sleep.

Climbing to my feet, I stared the ex-soldier down before following him from the cramped room. He swung the door shut behind me. The hall was empty, but that didn't mean no one was listening.

"What", I asked, irritation creeping into my voice.

Nate turned and shot me an angry glare. "Stop doing that. You aren't the only one who has input here. Whatever you do affects me."

You don't think I know that? You think I'd be here if I didn't? "I know."

"Yeah? It doesn't seem like it sometimes." He sighed, exasperated. "You're the most confusing person I've ever met. You make it easy to trust you for the most part, and then you do shit like this."

I cocked my head. Easy to trust me? Curiosity thawed my annoyance. "What do you mean?"

"You're going to make me compliment you aren't you?" Nate frowned "You're reliable, you know what you're doing, and you usually make the right decision. Even if I don't agree with it. And then you cut me out whenever you don't feel like explaining something. If it affects me, I want to know about it. So, what happened with the Gunners?"

That sounds like a massive waste of time.

Probably not everything, but keeping him in the loop might be a good idea. He's obviously better versed in public relations.

"I engaged to keep the Courser from escaping."

"Were they defending it?"

"No, but if I'd tried to talk my way through, it would have been long gone." I wasn't going to feel bad about putting down soldiers for higher that do what they do.

The smaller man grimaced. "So you killed all of them."

"Yes. We don't need the Gunners after us too."

"Well at least we can agree on that." He took a deep breath. "Fine, so what's next?"

… Huh. "That depends on what Maxson said."

"He half agreed. They'll let the kids go to Diamond city tomorrow, but they have to stay with one of the Brotherhood's people until we've gotten them to the Institute."

Clever bastard. There was no doubt the Brotherhood would have other people looking for ways to infiltrate, but like he said, he wasn't letting an opportunity slip past. The Elder wanted to keep his leverage over us. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I should have handled that situation better. He was hedging his bets too by letting them out of the main camp, but keeping the trio under his watch in case we tried something.

"Yeah. Maxson's smart." I looked down to meet the ex-soldier's gaze. The pause must have conveyed my thoughts. "So?"

He was thinking the same thing as me.

"Sturges."

"I'm guessing you want to move quickly?"

I nodded.

"Okay, I'll take care of the kids tomorrow then. You know how long you'll be?"

Getting to Sanctuary and back wouldn't be difficult to do in a day on my own, but I doubt I'll be able to turn around immediately. If he isn't able to help, or if he knows someone who can, that will complicate things.

"A few days. I'll head to Diamond City with you guys before leaving. Stay with them if you can."

"I planned on it", the ex-soldier said through a yawn. MFer had the gall to yawn. "Alright."

Before he could turn back to the door, I clamped a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "We aren't doing this every time I make a decision."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Ditto."

Notes:

So Danse and Damon certainly don't have the friendliest relationship. Then again, our SPARTAN friend isn't the most sociable person. This is one of those relationships I've let develop as I write because, honestly, I had no idea how I wanted it to go, but it's safe to say Danse is suspicious of our MCs' motives (rightfully so). Nate seems to be going through some difficult character growth of his own as we progress through the story which is also something that's developed organically (to an extent), and that's going to continue in the upcoming chapters. I hoped you all enjoyed, and I'll see you again next time!

Chapter 18: Sanctuary

Notes:

AAAAAAAAND WE'RE BACK! Welcome! To the latest hairbrained installment of 'why is there a SPARTAN here?' First off, I'd like to say I love seeing other people posting in this fandom. Like I said before it isn't the most well read one out there (not even close) so it's good to see others taking up the mantel (aaah aaaah, get it? No? I'll see myself out). We're getting closer and closer to the all important Institute! But it's time we find out a little more about how Damon got dropped into this crazy situation. Anyways, as always, let me know what you think, leave a review, and enjoy!

The next morning was… interesting. Between the ten or so hours of sleep over the past three days, the constant aggravation of being at the whims of a cult, and the strange new concern I had for the three kids, you could say I wasn't in the best mood. So as the Vertibird settled down in a clearing about a klick outside Diamond city, that might have been a park at one point (amusing they decide to try subtlety after the theatrics they've pulled so far), thinking about the best way to screw the Brotherhood over was cathartic.

Nate, Cassandra, Julian, Thomas, and I climbed out of the VTOL and began our short journey through the maze of crumbling towers and debris strewn streets. The ex-soldier left his power armor back at the Prydwen, opting for a pair of worn khaki cargo pants, a dark grey light jacket over a black shirt and combat boots. He still had the Pip-boy, and his new combat rifle along with a new satchel, but decided against a plate carrier Teagan had offered. The kids were wearing whatever appropriately sized clothes the Brotherhood could find, I'm sure they can get more in the city.

The kids surprised me; all three were careful and silent, picking their way through the rubble and wreckage almost as quietly as Valentine had. Cassandra caught onto wordless communication even in the short time it took us to reach the relative safety of the city's perimeter.

Once back inside the stadium, we met a younger, stone faced man who introduced himself as knight sergeant Ramirez inside the main entrance.

"I understand one of you will be staying with them for the time being?"

Nate nodded. "For a little while anyways, he", the ex-soldier motioned at me, "has to take care of a few things on his own outside the city. I decided I'd take a break from all this moving around and help get these three settled."

The Brotherhood soldier watched him, then me, eyes narrowed and a firm frown set on his face. To say the knight sergeant looked unconvinced would probably be an understatement. I had no doubt he'd been told to keep any eye on us, that we were a potential flight risk, and to report any oddities back to Maxson. If I knew that, I could count on Nate catching it too. Would the ex-soldier be careful enough to avoid raising any alarm bells for the time being?

After a few moments of relative silence, Ramirez turned toward the stadium's seating area. "This way."

I started after him, followed by the others. It was unlikely there would be any traps, but it's better safe than dead.

The knight sergeant led us through the forest of makeshift housing: ramshackle structures made from wooden beams and corrugated metal sheets. A few were torn and patched tents, and some looked like whoever 'built' them had pulled anything they could from a scrap bin and put it together.

After a minute or so of picking our way through the slum, our escort stopped at one of the structures that roughly resembled a building. It reminded me of Valentine's agency with a small wooden door set in a thin steel frame surrounded by a cube made of corrugated steel.

He knocked two times, paused, then once more.

A moment later, a latch clanked from the opposite side and the door swung open. Inside was a woman with an equally uninviting expression. We're they posing as a couple?

"Come in." Her voice was just as stiff.

Ramirez ducked into the shack. I practically had to wedge myself through the too narrow doorway. Once we were all inside, I couldn't wait to be out. I was wrong about the shack reminding me of Valentine's; the detective's office was a penthouse suite compared to this. There wasn't enough room for me to stand up straight, and with six others in here with me, we were almost on top of one another. There were two beds set against the far wall, a chest between them, and a small table in the center.

"Our orders are to keep these three protected for the time being", Ramirez said. His tone, and cocked eyebrow, made it clear the command was out of the ordinary. "This is knight Gwen. We are to ensure your safety, and compliance."

Compliance.

"It's nice to meet you Ramirez, Gwen." Nate extended a hand.

The Brotherhood soldiers both stared at the ex-soldier.

"You are a newly minted knight, correct", Ramirez asked.

I just stopped myself from scoffing. Rank has never meant much to me, but these cultish parade ranks like knight, paladin, and elder were a joke. On top of that, they're supposed to be operating covertly, which meant standard decorum wasn't only not followed, practicing it was actively frowned upon.

"Yes…"

"I am aware you two have some sort of arrangement with Elder Maxson, but I do not give preferential treatment."

This guy must be new to leadership. What Proctor Teagan implied, that most of their forces were green, came to mind. This guy may well have been one of those promotions because he showed up, not because he deserved it.

"Got it."

"Good." Ramirez turned to me. "And what about you?"

Yeah… I've met a few officers like this. There weren't many by the end of the War though; if you couldn't hack it, you either washed out or got killed.

"Don't worry about me, I'm leaving soon."

He scowled. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Knight Sergeant Ramirez", Nate interjected, "we understand your position here, neither of us intend to impose on your authority."

"I'd like to hear that from him."

My companion opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. It drifted shut and he looked from the Brotherhood soldier to me.

Talking with this guy left a bad taste in my mouth, let alone conceding to him. People like him screw ops because they're more concerned with their authority than doing the right thing.

Whatever it takes to get the job done, right?

… Fine.

"I understand."

"Good. We are here for observation. Your presence changes the situation, but it doesn't change our mission objective."

Nate nodded. "Don't interfere, don't make any scenes. Got it."

"How long do you intend to stay?"

"A few days. Until Damon is back and these three are comfortable."

The seemingly perpetual scowl on Ramirez's face deepened. Was it because he didn't want to deal with the ex-soldier that long (I couldn't blame him) or orders he wasn't telling us about?

"I don't intend to disrupt our operations to accommodate you."

Operations? You're stuck here watching people all day.

"That's fine."

The knight looked like he wanted an argument, probably an excuse to report back to his leadership and get rid of Nate and the kids. "Alright."

Nate smiled, it wasn't friendly. Had he been thinking the same thing? "Good."

I needed to get out of the minuscule shack. Being around the two of them made me feel like I was standing in front of a junior officer with a stick so far up their ass, when they coughed, bark came out. I'd had my fair share of run-ins with those ones too; first and second Lieutenants, maybe even freshly branded Commanders and Captains who wanted to make sure everyone knew they graduated from officer school. The ones that couldn't fall in didn't last long. I might have taken a few liberties when handling the more… entitled ones. ONI tried to keep me clear of them for the most part.

Schadenfreude was one of the few pleasures I took part in outside of fighting.

"We need to talk for a minute", I said to my partner.

He nodded. "Right."

I met Cassandra's gaze for an instant and gave her a nod.

We left the three of them to get acquainted with their new 'guardians' as I extricated myself from the cramped shack.

Noise from the bustling market below drifted up toward us as I turned back to face the smaller man. I still had my reservations about leaving them with the Brotherhood, no protection besides the ex-soldier standing in their way. I didn't have another SPARTAN I could trust to keep them safe, but Nate wanted this, maybe as much as I did. It wasn't hard to see, even for me; he feels like he failed his son, the man has practically said as much on multiple occasions. For him, this is an opportunity to atone, at least in part.

Nate isn't a SPARTAN, but if I can trust any regular human to do this, it's him. It's the least I owe the aggravating bastard considering what he's leaving up to me.

"What do you think", he asked.

"Inexperienced, and another set of orders he isn't telling us about."

"I caught that too. He reminds me of the first staff sergeant I had. He didn't make it too long. I don't think I have much to worry about from them as long as I keep my head on a swivel. Our boy's poker face is garbage." Nate frowned. "My concern is if he calls in backup."

"Keep your head down until I get back."

"Mhmm." He nodded. "We always have our exit strategy if necessary." His voice didn't convey confidence. It wasn't something I wanted to try, mostly because we have no way of communicating, my suit's comms be damned. The ex-soldier sounded about as excited as I was.

"Try to stay on the same path coming up, use the east side of Cambridge."

"Yeah… I'm not looking forward to getting them up to Sanctuary if I have to." He frowned. "I'll get it done if it comes to that." Nate paused for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. "Do you really think Sturges can help?"

"No idea, but he isn't a normal 'handyman'." A guy in this world talking about Quantum Mechanics and wormholes… there's more to him than he lets on. "I think he might know someone who can if he can't."

After another moment's pause the smaller man shook himself out of thought. "Get moving then; I don't want to stay here with these guys any longer than I have to."

I hesitated, and this time my thoughts didn't start berating me to get moving. I didn't want to leave the four of them alone, it felt… wrong.

The ex-soldier noticed.

"Hey", he said, slapping my shoulder, "I got this, nothing will happen to them while I'm around."

He's got this…

Right.

I nodded and turned to walk back toward the stadium's entrance. The faster I get this done, the less time they have to spend at risk.

As I left Diamond City and began my trek through Boston's remains, I thought about how I would approach Sturges with my request. If he hadn't told me about his background when I'd helped them set up shop in Sanctuary, nothing would have changed over the past few weeks that would make him now. Coercion is always an option, but it was… distasteful, especially considering how much work I put into establishing their settlement.

And how they'd treated me afterward.

My best bet is probably to start by asking and go from there. It isn't how I like doing things, but I don't have many persuasive tactics outside of threats and blackmail.

As usual, I performed my routine to ensure I wasn't being followed. It was easier to tell in a dead, empty city like this; if anyone did manage to follow me, it would have been blatantly obvious. It was a little odd, but I didn't find anyone. Two possibilities came to mind: I lost whoever my tail was before I could, or the Brotherhood weren't tailing me because they knew I had to come back anyways. Sure, they wouldn't know where I went or what I did, but they may not want to risk me discovering anyone.

A few hours later, I was leaving the city proper and beginning through the remains of a suburb not unlike the one I found the kids in. Difference was no Supermutants, and no piles of dead bodies. A few random animals had tried to attack me, tried, but much to my disappointment, I didn't happen across any of the big yellow bastards. I even made sure to go by the tower they had shot at Nate and I from on our way in.

Always next time.

I hadn't made contact with Sanctuary since leaving, I had no way of knowing if they were even there anymore. That would suck; not only would it leave me with no other option for this chip, but we'd sent Valentine and Perkins there.

By the time I was circumventing the east side of Cambridge, the sun was reaching its peak. I gave the small suburb a wide berth. There was no use being careful through the city if I managed to pick up an unwanted tag along in an area it would be much easier to remain hidden.

As I marched through the barren wasteland that was the outskirts of Boston, a surge of nostalgia crept into the back of my mind. It's only been a few weeks since I left Sanctuary, but… I felt different. It wasn't hard to figure out why, and I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit a part of me was happy to see the small community again. They were familiar, and friendly. Or as friendly as someone could be to a SPARTAN III who (literally) fell out of the sky.

It was just past noon when the small neighborhood came into view to the north. It didn't look like it had been ransacked. To the contrary, there were signs of more planning and reinforcement: Several of the houses on the beach had the holes patched and scrap fencing between them to prevent anyone who managed to sneak onto shore from intruding through them. I noticed several firing positions partially disguised as gaps in the construction. A few of the more intact houses on the far side had what looked like armored perches on their roofs for overwatch. No one occupied them, but it would be incredibly helpful in a firefight. I couldn't see anyone on watch, but that didn't mean they weren't. Considering the well hidden fighting positions, it was likely their sentries would be concealed as well.

A small burst of satisfaction made its way through my mind; it looks like they took what I taught them to heart.

Once I was within a few hundred meters of the bridge, I saw motion inside the settlement, and a moment later Preston, Valentine, Alexandra, and another man I didn't recognize emerged onto the street connected to it.

They sent out a welcome committee, how polite.

"It's been a while", Preston called as I reached the south end of the bridge. He was wearing a lopsided grin beneath the ridiculous wide brimmed hat he still wore.

I glanced between him and the rest of the party. Valentine was likewise smiling, while Alexandra seemed surprised. The last one, a shorter, lean man, with a face that was clearly young, but had miles on it, seemed hesitant.

"It has." I stopped in front of the group at the north end of the bridge.

"Like what we've done with the place?" I nodded. "Damon, I'd like to introduce you to Robert MacCready." Preston motioned to the newcomer. "He's a mercenary who used to work in Goodneighbor, but the Gunners ran him out. He helped set up a lot of the new defenses."

Ah, so it wasn't just what I taught them.

I ran my eyes over the smaller man; he had a 10 mm on his right hip and rifle slung over his back. I didn't miss the small bulge in under the left side of his jacket, probably a chest holster, and the way he held his hand, just under the hem of his coat, I'd guess there was either a knife or another handgun there. His eyes belonged in a different face; they were hard and piercing, with too much bitterness for someone as young as him. As if I'm one to talk about that. His blank expression and almost unblinking stare as I watched his eyes drill into me said the mercenary was studying me the same way I was him.

This guy is experienced.

"MacCready, this is Damon. He's the one we've been talking about."

After a moment of silence, the mercenary nodded. "Pleasure to meet a supersoldier from another reality." His voice said he believed that story about as much as I would.

I didn't need that information to spread around. Valentine's smile had grown wider.

I looked back to the Minuteman. "I would appreciate if you didn't tell that to everyone. Or anyone."

He chuckled. "It's difficult to explain you any other way."

"Then don't."

The dark skinned man cocked an eyebrow. "Still as social as ever, I see."

That probably won't change.

"Part of my charm."

"Right." He waved me forward and we began walking back toward the bustling sounds within the settlement. "What brings you back here?"

"I don't suppose you're here to tell Ellie and I we're clear to head back home", Valentine said.

"No, the Brotherhood are all over Diamond City. It isn't safe."

The detective nodded solemnly. "Yeah, we kinda figured, it's why we've stayed here this long."

"I'm here to talk with Sturges."

Preston glanced at me. "About?"

"The fewer that know it, the better."

"Uh huh, still agreeable too."

"I don't want to put you in any more danger than I already am."

"So you're watching out for us, huh? It isn't because it means less explaining for you, soldier boy?" Alexandra laughed and a small smile drifted across my face as she did. It felt… good to be back.

"That too."

"Well, it's still nice to have you around again, at least for a little while."

As we turned the corner into the settlement's main area, the scope of just how much they'd done in a short time hit me. When I left, there were eight people, no infrastructure, and very little security. At least double that number were milling around the street and in houses. Several planters were arranged in the yards with crops already seeded, several floodlights were positioned on houses and in the streets, wired to what looked like a small generator, and they'd clearly reinforced more of the houses.

"Yeah", Alexandra said as she watched me study the settlement, "we got lucky with MacCready here, and one of the families we came across was able to get our crops up and running." There was a sour note under her excitement. Had something happened?

"Any more attacks?"

"Nah, but the Commonwealth can be harsh."

I couldn't argue with that; I've had my own first hand experiences with it now. I can't say it's the War, but in its own way, it might be worse.

Several of the new residents stopped and stared as we approached the center of the settlement. Julian trotted over from the yellow house with the car port they seemed to have set up as their main common area. He wasn't as slim and gaunt as when I first met the teenager in Concord. It looks like he took to training well.

"Hey Damon, how's it going?"

I nodded to Alexandra's son. "Still alive."

He smiled. "Where's Nate?"

"Diamond City. Things have gotten… complicated."

"No surprise", Preston said, "when the Brotherhood showed up, I think all of our lives got a lot more complicated. Nick told us you and Nate decided to join?" He sounded confused.

"Temporarily, that's why things have gotten complicated."

"I see, well I assume you'll be sticking around for at least a little while."

"A day or two. We're on a short timetable."

Preston smiled again. "Good, you can tell us all about your complicated adventures over dinner."

Not likely.

"For now, let's go find Sturges." The minuteman turned toward the eastern side of the neighborhood. "I'm sure that bastard's breaking something", he muttered as he started walking.

MacCready followed behind. He never strayed within arm's reach, but I could feel his glare drilling into the back of my head. He was young, and tried to project calm, but the mercenary radiated… not aggression, but something not too far off. Preston didn't seem to notice; maybe this is a 'takes one to know one' situation. If that's the case, it might be why, other than most people's customary wariness around older generation SPARTANs, he was so suspicious of me.

It turns out the engineer was breaking something. Or had already broken it. The minuteman and I found Sturges behind one of the houses at the back of the settlement. He was standing over a disassembled rifle and a bunch of other components I didn't recognize on a tarp, staring at them, looking annoyed. The grease covered man turned to us as the rustling of dry shrubbery announced our arrival.

"Damon", he exclaimed, black streaked face lighting up, "good seein ya again."

I nodded.

"Give me a few." The engineer turned back to the pieces, scratching his head. "Trying to figure out what I got wrong."

"I'll leave you two alone", Preston said as he turned to leave. He slapped MacCready's back on his way. "Come on, let's give them some space."

"You sure?"

The minuteman nodded. "Don't worry about him, Damon's good people."

MacCready's eyes narrowed. Yeah, there's definitely something more there than the normal wariness. As long as he didn't do anything stupid, it wouldn't be a problem.

"Whatever you say."

As the two of them left, I walked over to stand beside Sturges as he looked down at the assortment of pieces in front of him. There were the parts of what looked like one of the HK-33 assault rifles, several pneumatic actuators, a tripod, and what might have been optical motion sensors.

"Are you building a turret?"

He nodded absently. "Trying. I can wire all this up, but once something trips the sensors, damn thing won't let go of the trigger. Then there's the problem of it shooting someone we don't want it to."

Automated systems in the UNSC were almost universally run by AI, especially if they had combat relevance. He may be able to solve the issue of shooting people who live here with an FOF system, but passersby wouldn't have the benefit of that. Not to mention the problem with it shooting at anything moving that may not be a person. How had the emplacements Kellogg set up in Hagen worked?

"Dammit." Sturges turned back to me. "So what brings you back our way?"

I slipped off my satchel and pulled the gauze wrapped chip from its pouch. "I need help getting to the Institute." Unwinding the dressing, I held the small circuit board in front of him. "This is a chip I took from one of their Coursers. It's supposed to provide access to their teleportation network."

The engineer cocked an eyebrow at me as he gingerly took the chip, careful to avoid the contacts, or smearing grease across the circuits. There was something strange in his expression though; it was only there for an instant, and may have slipped by someone else, but he didn't hide it well enough.

"I don't know if I should be surprised you managed to track one of them down and kill it", he said as he examined my finding.

I shrugged. "You didn't say much about them last time I asked, but you know more about the Institute than you let on."

There was a brief hesitation between the statement and the engineer meeting my gaze. Again, it was subtle, but it was there. I've never paid much attention to reading people, but most have tells if one cares enough to look.

"That wasn't a question."

I shook my head.

"You're assuming that. Is it because my… hobbies?"

"In part."

"What's the other part?"

"CIT. You said you would need more material from there."

"I'm not the only one who knows about the place."

"Most seem too afraid of the Institute to go there."

Sturges didn't respond as he continued looking up into my visor, chip held between us. The sounds from others working were the only intrusions in our impromptu staring contest. If he wants to play this game, I guarantee I'll win.

It didn't take long. A few seconds later, the engineer sighed. "I could lie and tell you I don't. Would you know the difference?"

"Probably."

"Right, I've never had a good poker face." He nodded. "I do, but I can't exactly help you with this; I don't have the equipment here I'd need."

That made sense; if these things are as advanced as they seemed, he'd need more than a few rocks to bang together to get whatever it is I need from the chip.

"Do you know anyone who can?"

Another brief hesitation.

"Possibly."

I waited.

"They're a group that… doesn't like the Institute very much. They'll have everything you need."

"Who are they?"

"Look", he said, after a moment's pause, "I know you're trying to get into the Institute, but they'll kill these people if they find them, and I can't take that risk. They've done right by me and a lot of others."

I didn't know how to respond to that. I wasn't interested in selling whoever this group was out, but I don't think Sturges was expecting me to. He couldn't take the risk because if these people are high enough on the Institute's shit list the engineer thinks they would be killed on sight, the Institute might know they're the ones that helped me.

And this is where a bit of coercion wouldn't go amiss… Personal relationships overcomplicate things

"Is there any way they can help us without putting them at risk?"

The grease covered man looked from me back down to the chip in his hand, face impassive. "I'll have to think about it." He handed the circuit board back to me. "While I'm doing that, why don't you make the rounds and see what you think of our improvements? I'll give you the tour, there's some stuff I'm especially proud of."

It was my turn to hesitate for a moment. I didn't want to wait, but if this turned into a potential lead, abandoning it after five minutes would be stupid.

I nodded.

X

A few hours later, I was standing outside the relatively intact yellow house the group had turned into their communal area. Alexandra had pestered me to eat with the group but, despite being happy to see them, I'm still not comfortable. The others were inside, everyone except for two sentries and a young man, maybe around my age, tending to the planters. It was hard to tell exactly how old he was because the taller, blond haired settler was incredibly gaunt. He was around the same height as Preston, but couldn't have weighed more than 65 kilos.

The sickly looking man ignored me, which was odd enough, but he also seemed to be in a lot of pain. His movements were jerky, and based on the occasional fumble of a trowel or hand rake, I don't think he had full motor control.

Now that I was thinking about it, no one else had been taking care of the planters while Sturges gave me the tour. I'd picked out most of what they'd done on my way in, but the group had also established fallback positions, as well as packed supplies in case they needed a quick exit. For a smaller community, it was a decent set up.

Footsteps drifted up from behind as someone walked across the house's carport toward me.

"You sure you don't want to eat", Alexandra said. She was determined…

I turned to look down at her as she stopped next to me, a plate full of food in her hands.

Dammit. How the hell am I supposed to say 'yes'?

She knew it too.

I took the plate before motioning to the young man weeding the planters. "Who's he?"

"Charlie. He's-" she stopped mid-sentence. I couldn't tell if it was because she was thinking, or didn't want to continue. After a few quiet seconds, she cleared her throat. "His family came about two weeks ago, they were all very sick. Charlie's mom and dad didn't survive past the first night. Radiation poisoning. We got him back on his feet and he's been taking care of the crops we planted, but he won't let anyone else touch them now. We don't know for sure, but we think they were farmers."

When I glanced down, Alexandra offered me a sad smile. "Like I said: the Commonwealth can be harsh."

So it seems…

"You didn't bring him dinner?"

She shook her head. "He keeps food in his room."

Hmm. That's something I get; I couldn't eat in my quarters, but taking my meals in the galley alone was the next best thing.

"Has he taught anyone else how to take care of your plants?"

"No. He doesn't do much talking." Alexandra shrugged. "He wants to take care of the crops, we'll let him for now."

"And if he dies?"

I met Alexandra's gaze as she stared silently. The guy dying probably wasn't something she wanted to think about, but she's been around enough death, she should know to be prepared. If his motor function has deteriorated this far, it's a sign his bone marrow is damaged to the point it's unable to produce adequate blood cells. Charlie is extremely sick, and without proper facilities to treat him, he will die.

"We're preparing for that", she said eventually. "The supplies we have can only do so much, we know."

Preparing for that? I don't know if observation is a good substitute for experience gardening, but these people have survived out here their entire lives. They didn't need me to tell them how to grow food. Not that I actually know.

I nodded. "If Sturges comes looking for me, I'll be near the armory."

Before I could take more than a step, Alexandra placed a hand on my arm. "Hey, do you-" She pulled her arm back and looked at the ground between her feet. "Never mind."

My feet almost continued carrying me forward, but somewhere in the back of my head, I wanted to hear her question. The only other time I'd heard the woman sound that… forlorn was when I first met her.

"What", I asked as I turned back to her.

Alexandra squinted up at me. She looked unsure, like she didn't know if she should ask whatever was on her mind.

I cocked my head and, after a few more seconds of silence, she let out a low sigh.

"Charlie won't say, but I think his farm was attacked, and they were captured. That's where they were exposed."

"Why?"

"There's a Raider gang in the area who call themselves the Forged. They- they're real bastards. We met another family around there, the Finches, who were attacked a couple times too." Her voice grew harder as she spoke. "We can't do anything about them."

The woman didn't ask, but the implication was clear enough. I wasn't opposed to helping, but contacting the Institute has to be my priority. If I decided otherwise, the Supermutants would be first on my shit list.

"It depends. I'm still trying to get to the Institute."

Irritation flashed across Alexandra's face, but she nodded. "I get it. I'm just worried they might hear about what you did to Crank's gang and come after us too. They're supposed to be a bigger group."

Crank's- oh, the group I saved them from.

"Understood. I'll help if I get the time."

She started to say something, but stopped herself. As much as it annoyed her, and I had to admit, saying no bothered me too, we both knew I wasn't going to change my answer.

"Okay."

I nodded before turning to walk toward Nate's old house.

The food was good, or at least better than the packaged fare and MREs I've been eating for the past few weeks. The plate was full of fresh vegetables, some sort of meat, and something that looked like a cross between a plum and apple.

The group finished eating just after I started and I listened to them spread back out around the neighborhood. It was odd, being around this many people in an openly hostile environment. The closest I'd come is the one time I'd deployed with ODSTs, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

As I ate, early evening sunlight streaming through the house's pockmarked walls, I thought about what I'd do if Sturges refused to help. I could offer to take care of their Raider problem in exchange for his cooperation, but that would take time we probably don't have. Could I offer it post-facto… I don't know, I'm not one for negotiating. I generally have those conversations over broken bones.

What other options might be available? I can't go to the Brotherhood, is it possible Valentine knows of someone who can help? There's someone in Goodneighbor who has access to Brain Machine Interfaces, it wasn't unreasonable to think there are others with what I need.

Unsurprisingly, Sturges didn't come find me while I was eating. Once I finished, I took a long pull from my canteen, slipped my helmet back on, and brought the plate back into their communal house.

Where the Engineer was waiting.

"So, Damon, if we're going to do this, I need something from you." I hadn't known what to expect, so this was encouraging, but I've always hated conditional statements like that. I nodded for him to continue. "The Institute has a lot of tech and information that could be very useful to lots of different people." Sturges pulled something from his pocket; it looked like a memory drive, not unlike the one Kellogg had given us. "I need to be sure, one, they don't go after these people, and I want to get as much of that information as I can."

"You want me to steal it from them."

"More or less. This can transmit live, so I just need you to plant it in their main server."

"If your friends are so interested in the Institute, or vice versa, why wouldn't they be asking me to do this?"

"Oh they probably will. This is for me though."

Great… people spying on each other. That's another thing I didn't have to deal with much; if ONI was sending me somewhere, my intel gathering wouldn't be by planting info taps.

"Okay."

"Great", Sturges exclaimed. "I assume you're trying to move fast, so we'll leave tomorrow morning. The group we're gonna meet with is called The Railroad. They operate out of downtown Boston."

I had my answer, but there was one hangup.

"We."

"You want my help, this is how you're getting it."

The number of ways this could go sideways…

"That isn't a good idea."

"No shit Sherlock. Do you think I want to go skipping through this hell again? You need someone to introduce you, and I don't want to risk they're safety."

"I can move faster, and quieter, on my own."

The engineer shook his head. "It ain't about that. These guys are very anal about security, comes with the territory when the people you're fighting can teleport anywhere. You aren't the greatest at first impressions, and I need to be there to make sure everything goes smoothly."

I couldn't tell if 'goes smoothly' meant I got past their security measures, or none of them ended up dead. Maybe a bit of both?

Why does everyone need to be involved in everything? Dragging Nate all over this damn wasteland was trouble enough, and soon I'd be doing the same thing with the three kids. I wasn't enthusiastic about bringing Sturges into the city when I'd also have to escort him back here.

"There's no other way to contact them?"

"No, not that wouldn't put them at risk-" He paused, squinting at me. "Well…" The engineer fell quiet, gaze drifting up to the ceiling. If there was some reasonable way to make this happen without needing to go into the city, I'd take that any day. "There… may be one."

I cocked my head.

"I'd still need to go with you, but we might be able to stay away from the city for now. The Railroad monitors most radio frequencies, it wouldn't be too hard to leave a meeting place for them."

Set up a meeting over open, unencrypted frequencies?

"That's secure?"

"If we do it right."

"They'll show?"

"Again, if we do it right."

"And what is 'right'?"

Sturges opened his mouth to respond, but it snapped shut an instant later. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before sighing. "That's personal, but they'll know."

"I'd feel better if I did."

"Sorry, you're asking me for a favor, you're going to have to trust me big guy."

Trust you? I'm supposed to trust you? It had taken me the better part of a month, and several firefights, to begin trusting Nate, and that's still a fight at times. Now Sturges wants me to trust him just for asking?

Am I not asking for his trust too?

How?

By asking him to put me in touch with the Railroad, who the Institute apparently wants dead.

I didn't have an answer for that. It's true, but… trust is a difficult thing.

"How long do you need?"

"To get them a message? A few minutes."

"When would the introduction be?"

"They work quick. Probably tomorrow afternoon."

So I'm trusting him to set up a meet n greet with another mysterious group with no knowledge of who they are or what they do. Great, just great.

"Can't solve every problem by killing something." Amanda of all people said that. Another SPARTAN. I'm still not sure if I agree, you just have to kill the right something.

But I would say some problems are better solved by… other means. Now.

This problem, this is probably one of those that should be solved with a little less violence.

"Can you tell me where we're going?"

The engineer nodded. "Oberland station, or close to it anyways. It's about halfway between here and downtown along the railroad tracks that used to run south into the city."

So we'd be out in the wasteland around the city; at least I wouldn't have to escort another person through that hellhole.

"Fine."

Sturges let out a deep exhale. "Okay, I'll get started, we'll head out tomorrow morning."

With nothing else to do, the rest of the evening was spent walking Sanctuary's perimeter. I caught MacCready watching me in the cover of houses from time to time. I don't know if he noticed, or if he cared; I put the man off, which isn't a surprise, but there was something else.

It piqued my curiosity. I was used to the distrustful, sometimes almost hateful looks I got from some, but this isn't that.

The next time I felt his stare, I was crossing back from the south end of the bridge. I stopped to look directly at him and the mercenary, who was lurking between two houses just off the beach, froze. Guess he didn't think I knew he was watching.

No one else was in view. There may have been someone tucked in one of the houses they'd set up as watch posts, but if they were, I couldn't see them.

What did I want to do? His hostility didn't bother me, but the strange discontent radiating from the man made me uncomfortable. I only have a handful of ways to deal with something that makes me uncomfortable, and most of them end up with the subject of that discomfort dead. I don't think the others would appreciate me killing MacCready.

After a moment's consideration, I motioned him to leave his cover. The mercenary hesitated, but he had to know if I wanted to kill him, my rifle wouldn't be resting against my chest.

A few seconds later, he stalked out of the path between the houses, cast in shadow by the reddening, setting sun.

I walked to the end of the bridge, and we stood in silence, watching each other with the quiet only interrupted by the conversation drifting from the settlement.

"What do you want", he demanded, eventually.

Shouldn't I be asking that?

"You've been watching me. Why?"

"You're dangerous."

I cocked my head. "Yes… not to these people."

"You smell like a killer."

My eyes narrowed. I don't know how I smelled like a killer, but he didn't have any room to talk.

"Likewise."

MacCready cracked an amused smile. "I don't have anywhere near that much blood on me. It's like you decided to make soap out of it."

… Weird analogy.

"What's your point?"

"I've never been around someone who makes me feel like if I turn my back, you're going to break my neck. Well… I mean unless they're actually trying to kill me."

"I have no reason to. I helped these people set up this settlement."

"You have no reason to? I don't think that's as comforting as you think it is."

I shrugged. It's the truth.

The mercenary paused, waiting for an answer. After a ten count, he realized it was up to him to continue the conversation.

"Why did you help them?"

What? Why did I- Why the hell does it matter to you?

"Because I wanted to."

"That doesn't make me feel any better either." MacCready shook his head. "What happens when you feel like attacking us?"

What happens- what? I could understand his wariness, but I wasn't about to stand here and have my motives questioned by some random mercenary who just came onto the scene.

"Then that'll suck for you. Don't give me a reason to."

He frowned. "I'm not going along with that."

We have nothing else to talk about then.

"Don't follow me anymore."

"And if I do?"

So you want to play this game. Finding someone who's more aggravating than Nate… goddamn.

"Depends. You'll probably end up unconscious, tied up in one of the houses until they find you."

MacCready hesitated, most likely because he could tell I wasn't joking.

"Don't do anything stupid."

My body tensed and I took a step forward.

No, no, doing something to him won't help anything.

That's a line you don't cross. It pissed me off with Nate, it pissed me off with Maxson.

Me being pissed off doesn't warrant killing someone.

"Never threaten me", I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The mercenary's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, he cleared his throat, shaking his head, and turned back toward the settlement. I watched him as he left, anger still bubbling at the back of my mind.

Asshole.

What irritated me even more was I got his unease; I probably would be tense if I were in his position. I didn't want to sympathize, I just wanted to be pissed at him, not myself, but if an unknown, extremely dangerous person waltzed up and started acting friendly with the locals, I'd be suspicious too.

His… specific examples were strange though; that I smelled like a killer, and that he could tell how much blood I had on me. He wasn't wrong, but where would he pick up on something like that?

Those thoughts continued to drift through my mind as I walked back to the settlement and let Preston know I was going to get some shut eye. What a novelty: sleeping two nights in a row.

As I settled into a house near the neighborhood's bridge, I wondered, not for the first time, what people saw when they looked at me. MacCready is an extreme case, but do other people pick up on whatever the mercenary did to a lesser degree? Most regular people tend to be uncomfortable around SPARTANs, but I was under no delusions it was worse with me.

Maybe it's my glowing personality.

Yeah… maybe.

X

Hmmm. Sturges wouldn't lure me into a trap, let alone one that relied on me asking him to help, but it sure felt like it.

We were standing in a large railroad intersection he'd called Oberland Station. The engineer said we would be near it, not in the damn thing. It wasn't much, basically a small tower that looked like it operated switchgear for the few tracks that connected here. There were two train cars still resting on the railroad. Judging by how thoroughly the wheels were rusted to the track, they probably hadn't moved since the bomb dropped on Boston.

The entire thing was on a raised causeway that made me feel like, no matter where I hid, I was vulnerable from damn near everywhere. Around us were scattered trees and boulders with a broken interstate looming to the southwest.

Waiting for the better part of four hours had me on edge. Sturges had said whoever the Railroad sent would be cautious, and only make contact when they were sure there was no danger. I was still wondering how he knew they would show. What's his relationship with them? Why would they come running based on whatever cryptic message he'd left for them?

I refrained from asking the engineer, not only because I was far too focused on our surroundings, with countless places we could be ambushed from, but he clearly didn't want to talk about it. The information wasn't mission critical, and whether or not I knew didn't change the outcome here, so I settled next to one of the broken down train cars while Sturges stood by the lonely white tower, facing me. By hour two, the breathing exercises I used to temper my impatience had worn thin, so now I was stuck with my growing agitation until something happened.

Maybe I'd get lucky and some wild animal would come along and take its chances. Or better yet, Supermutants.

The engineer's slow, steady breathing and carefully neutral expression projected calm, but the constant fidgeting with his coveralls betrayed his discomfort. Considering how he and the rest of the group got to Sanctuary, it probably wasn't being out here that made him nervous. Is he getting impatient too? Is he nervous he may have oversold his pull with this group? Or is he afraid of getting them involved with me?

I continued scanning our surroundings, half hoping for a Raider group to come charging across the dead, rolling terrain. No such luck though. The sun continued its slow, arduous journey up toward its peak with no action to speak of.

Dammit, sometimes I really hate I can't just shoot my problems. It would make-

My thoughts froze, and I strained my ears, turning the gain up on my helmet's microphones. I heard… something that sounded an awful lot like dirt grinding under a boot from the northwest.

As I signaled for Sturges to stay put, I slipped around the train car and began scanning the area.

A split second later, the crunching reached me again, now perfectly clear with my helmet amplifying the sound. It was too soft and deliberate to be someone walking regularly, and too distinct and irregular to be an animal.

It was a person who knew we were here. Sturges' contact?

Nothing made itself apparent, but there were enough boulders, trees, and dead underbrush to hide a platoon.

Another crunch. Then another. They were still subdued, but whoever was down there was getting closer. I narrowed the noise to a cluster of rocks 20 meters down the embankment.

Only one?

I hadn't picked up any other sounds, and the gain on my helmet was almost at its max. Between it and my own hearing, I could make out the engineer's low, shallow breathing from behind the tower, 15 meters away. If there was anything else in the area, I'd probably hear it.

"CAN'T MAKE GOOD BRAHMIN STEAK WITHOUT SOME SALT!"

That wince I couldn't stifle. The call came from behind the large group of rocks I had centered in my sights.

I managed to drop my audio back to normal levels just as Sturges replied.

"That and some good Mutfruit glaze."

Corny passphrases? What the hell is this? A bad spy story?

"Haha, so it is you", our mystery guest said in a low, smooth voice before stepping out from behind the cluster. The man was on the taller side, with jet black hair, large, round sunglasses, and a face that was hard to age. He was dressed in regular fare for the merchants I'd seen in the area: worn cargo pants, a flannel button down shirt, and thick jacket. I didn't see any weapons besides the 10mm handgun on his hip, but that didn't mean anything.

The probable railroad contact hesitated for an instant as he saw me, but it was barely enough to spot, even for me. Sturge's footsteps crunched over the dirt and gravel ground as he approached the edge of the embankment.

"I'm shocked you came, Deacon."

"Oh", Deacon said as he began climbing toward us. "You think I'd let anyone else come out here to find out what you want?" His glasses were tinted dark, but I could feel his eye on me the entire time.

"I'm just glad you remembered. Didn't want to walk across this damn wasteland for nothing."

I shook my head; I had a feeling Sturges was operating on hopes and dreams, but I didn't want to be right.

"Ha, would be hard to forget." The two of them reached me at the same time. "So who's this. Don't know him from anywhere." Deacon was as hard to read as Maxson; his placid face and neutral tone gave nothing away. I don't like that.

Sturges extended a hand and the two shook. "This is who I called you all the way to the middle of nowhere for. He needs some help with a little Institute problem. He has a Courser chip, and needs to access the Molecular Relay."

I glanced around the sparse forest. Nothing moved, and I couldn't see any threats, but this place was a little too open. Is that why Sturges chose it?

The Railroad member arched an eyebrow. "That so… Mind if I see it?"

"I do", I said.

"And why's that?"

"I don't know you." I left the 'I don't trust you' unsaid.

"And I'm supposed to trust you? Killing a Courser isn't an easy thing to do." He left the 'am I supposed to believe you' unsaid.

"You never have?"

"We have once or twice… not without destroying its brain though."

"I guess I should introduce you two", Sturges cut in, "Damon, this is Deacon, he's one of the Railroad's best people. Deacon, Damon. He's…" The engineer glanced at me. "He's the local walking apocalypse."

Walking apocalypse? That's a new one.

"Oh yeah? You're about 200 years too late Mr. Apocalypse."

That depends on who you ask.

I shrugged and after it became clear I didn't have a response, Sturges continued.

"He killed it, I've seen the chip, it's legit."

I could feel Deacon's gaze running over me head to toe behind his dark tinted glasses. "If that's the case, you must be as dangerous as our venerable engineer says. Why do you want to get into the Institute?"

"That's my business."

The Railroad member shook his head. "Sorry friend, I'm not helping you if I don't know whether it will hurt us or not."

"He's-" Sturges paused, glancing at me. "Damon, these guys are used to weird shit. I'm talking really weird."

Multiverse brand of 'weird'? Does telling him pose a risk? Realistically, it doesn't matter who knows about me, provided it doesn't get back to the Brotherhood. At least not until I'm ready to stab them in the back. On top of that, these people run a clandestine operation; if they're at odds with the Institute, they'd have to if they want to stay alive. Helping me is a risk just for the fact I'll know who they are and, if they have to take me to a base or headquarters to help, where they operate. That means leverage.

But do I want to tell this guy about how I got here? Or where I'm from?

It doesn't matter if I want to, what do I have to do to complete the mission?

I knew the answer, but something about it felt off.

It wasn't difficult to tell the group at Sanctuary.

I was still suffering from a major concussion, and had no clue what was happening.

And I'm just making excuses.

Dammit…

"I need their help getting back to my reality."

This time both eyebrows shot up. It was the first hint of emotion Deacon had shown.

"Now that isn't something I expected to hear." He paused and thought for a moment. I couldn't tell if it was about whether he believed me or not. I'd be skeptical.

"Yeah, the tech in their Molecular Relay would be the closest thing we have that might be able to help."

Wait… he bought that?

"I was thinking about that", Sturges replied, "you think they can make the adjustments? Theoretically, opening a wormhole between universes is possible; with the same set of principles. They'd need a lot more energy to open it, and more exotic matter to stabilize the bridge."

Wait… so, was the UNSC experimenting with teleporters when this happened? Maybe new FTL technology? If Sturges is anywhere close, they had the concept right, they just got the math wrong.

And I ended up in a different universe...

Deacon shrugged. "I don't know enough about that crap, but maybe." He looked up at me, then back to the engineer.

"Where did you guys meet?"

Sturge's face fell. "We were run out of Quincy by the Gunners. Got trapped in Concord with a bunch of raiders on our tail. He saved us and got us set up in Sanctuary."

After another short pause, the Railroad member's gaze switched back to me. "And who are you, exactly? That gear ain't anything we've got here. Did it come from your 'reality'?"

"Yes."

"You gonna answer that first question?"

"I'm a soldier."

"Yeah", Deacon said through a sigh, "figured that out myself, thanks though." He looked at Sturges again. "You trust this guy?"

The engineer nodded. "I'd say 'with my life', but that's kind of a given at this point." I cocked my head at him. "Well my ass would have been cooked twice now, probably more without your help preparing our new home, so… duh."

"Is there any way he knew you had contact with us when you met?"

"No. It's a long story, but I know enough to tell he isn't lying." Sturges must have been talking about our… conversation my first night here.

"Hmm."

The Railroad member fell silent again and my gaze returned to roaming around the surrounding forest. There was still no movement, and the area looked oddly peaceful. I didn't feel like I was being watched, but if someone is good enough, it wouldn't matter. And it may not be someone else from this guy's group, it could be the Brotherhood, it could be Gunners, Raiders, or whoever else might have an interest in me or him.

"Okay", Deacon said eventually, "we'll help but we need a few things in return." I motioned for him to continue. "First: we keep the chip after we're done. Second: if you're as good as you sound, we'll need a bit of help. Third: we'll need some specialized equipment to make this work; that's up to you to get. Sound fair?"

I didn't need the chip, and gathering material for something I need isn't an issue either.

"What help?"

"Just getting a few Synths to safety is all."

My eyes narrowed. "Synths?"

"Yeah, we saved them from the Institute."

Save Synths from the Institute? That's why they're on bad terms but… "Why?"

Deacon shrugged. "Because they deserve a better life than slavery."

Slavery?

More and more questions began bouncing around my head, but this wasn't the right place to ask; we'd spent enough time out in the open.

"As long as it doesn't put me on bad terms with the Institute."

"You've already killed one of their Coursers; those bastards are all monitored. They know."

Shit. It was something I'd considered, but there's a difference between a possibility and knowing for sure.

"Fine."

The ghost of a smile crossed Deacon's lips. "Good. You know where Diamond City is?" I nodded. "Meet me in the market, noon, day after tomorrow. I'll be wearing these", he pointed to his glasses, "and a blue baseball hat."

These guys were clearly careful. If he wants to meet at the stadium, it would be a good idea to tell him about Nate. "I have someone else with me. He's trying to get his kid back from them."

"Not an uncommon story. Do you know for sure they have him?"

I nodded. "Kellogg told me."

This time, the man's short pause was clearly astonishment.

"Kellogg", Sturges stammered, just as surprised. "You talked with Kellogg?"

"Sort of."

"Did… you kill him?"

I nodded again.

Deacon chuckled. "Well now I'm impressed. Alright then, I'll take my leave before anyone finds us. I'll see you in a few days."

"Good to see you again Deacon." Sturges stuck out a hand again.

"You too."

They shook and the Railroad member turned to walk back down the embankment. Something about the guy put me on edge. It was impossible to tell if he was lying, and that was disconcerting. I'd give Sturges the benefit of the doubt, but being prepared wouldn't go amiss here.

"Let's get moving", I said after watching him disappear back behind the large outcropping of rocks.

The engineer nodded as he gazed into the forest after Deacon.

Despite myself, I didn't spend the walk back thinking about the moves ahead of me. Something about this situation, it didn't feel wrong, but I was missing something. What Sturges had said the day before about the Railroad: 'they've done right by me and a lot of others.' More than that, he knows a lot more about the Institute than anyone else I've met, including Valentine, or the Brotherhood. Deacon said they rescued Synths from the Institute; I'm not sure what he meant by 'slavery', but Sturges had a past with them. It was possible he could have been a Railroad member at some point, but that statement… the engineer made it sound like he was part of the group they 'did right by'.

"You're a Synth", I said as we stopped to allow the engineer a few moments' rest.

He froze, canteen halfway to his mouth, eyes glued on my visor. "What?"

"'They've done right by me and a lot of others'. They rescued you from the Institute."

Sturges was silent a handful of seconds longer before clearing his throat.

"My damn mouth", he whispered as he lowered his water. "This is part of the reason I don't like talking about them."

"The message, and your cheesy security phrase, it had something to do with that."

"Yes."

If he was so worried about someone finding out… "Why did you agree to help me?"

"You helped us."

"I fulfilled my end of our arrangement."

Sturges chuckled. "You really think a little information was a fair trade for saving us?"

"I-" Was it? Those Raiders weren't much to fight, even with one arm. From their perspective though… like he said: I'd saved them. It meant more to them than the effort I put in. "I don't know."

The engineer was still smiling. "Well, the answer you're looking for is 'no', big guy."

Okay, that seemed reasonable, but there were other ways he could have offered to help, not that I would have agreed to anything other than a face to face meeting. He might have known that, or there was another motive.

"Why else?"

Wait, did I really just ask that? Why would he put me in touch with people who were risking their lives to undermine the Institute.

"You want me to help destroy the Institute."

"I'm not that stupid. Whatever issues they have, the Institute has good people in there and a lot of tech that could save a lot of people out here." The engineer shook his head. "That drive I gave you, the information we can get from them could help grow food, make medicine, and give everyone in Sanctuary, in the Commonwealth a better life. I may have been grown in a tube, but I want the same thing everyone else does: a safe, comfortable life. If I can give that to other people along the way", he shrugged, "I don't see any reason I shouldn't."

"Does anyone else know about you?"

He shook his head. So he doesn't want anyone knowing. Makes sense, it means less risk for him, and for anyone around who might be caught in the crossfire if someone like the Brotherhood of Steel came knocking. Provided they agree to get me back to my own reality, or at least try, I wasn't going to put myself at odds with the Institute (I'll have enough enemies by then), but if giving the group at Sanctuary access to their knowledge base would help them survive, I did take the time to help them establish their settlement.

"Okay."

"You won't tell anyone?"

I shook my head.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Thanks."

I nodded and the engineer took a hesitant swig from his canteen. He glanced back toward the southwest, where the station was, before looking me up and down again.

"You're a lot smarter than you look."

What? I cocked my head.

"I mean, you don't fill the 'big dumb killing machine' stereotype very well."

Maybe I didn't talk to enough, but I never met a 'dumb' SPARTAN. "And…?"

"You've talked to enough of the people who play soldier around here, right? The Brotherhood of Steel, gangs, probably ran into some Gunners along the way. They all just try to swing the biggest stick."

"Things are different when you're fighting a war." Especially one like mine.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

The rest of the trip was uneventful, as was that night. I stayed in the same house I had the day before, letting them handle their own patrols. The next few days probably wouldn't allow me much sleep. I finished eating and, no sooner than I'd slipped my helmet on, I heard a pair of footsteps approaching from the settlement's main strip, for lack of a better term.

"Damon", Perkin's voice called inside.

I stood to greet the secretary, and what was probably Valentine. "I'm here."

She appeared in front entrance, sun at her back, casting a long shadow across the doorway.

"We haven't gotten a chance for a real hello." She walked into the decrepit living room followed by the detective. "Or give you a proper thanks."

A proper thanks?

"How so?"

"Well", Valentine said, "keeping the Brotherhood out of our hair is a good place to start. These people seem to like you despite you being- well, you." The Synth smirked. "Making jokes at your expense is a lot more fun when everyone does it."

"Right."

"And", Perkins cut in, "sending us here. It's remarkable what Preston and his people have managed to do here. I can't say I don't miss Diamond City, but I like it here."

"That's them more than me."

She shrugged. "All the same."

Valentine leaned against a crumbling wall. "You doin anything?"

"... No."

"Good! I want to hear about some of your more recent adventures. We don't get a lot of news up here, so it's time to spill some interesting stories."

I hesitated. Stories? Nothing I've done would be something I consider private, but… telling stories isn't my strong suit.

"Nick, you can be such an ass sometimes." Perkins paused. "Most of the time."

"That's why you love me so much."

"It's why I have to stick around, otherwise you'd end up dead."

The back and forth continued before the two of them settled into the room, and they began their own storytelling session.

I wasn't in the same headspace as I had been in Diamond City, but the feeling was the same. Perkins more so than Valentine, but they both felt so… comfortable around me. Neither missed a beat when I neglected to answer a question, or provide input to the conversation. Being around people as… at ease with me as they were was something I could get used to.

At times, I added my own stories to the fray. I did my best to breeze over the Deathclaw fight; they'd ask enough questions about it, I'd have to do far more talking than I wanted to.

It almost worked.

I didn't tell them about Kleo.

I didn't tell them about what I did afterward.

It wasn't just because I was still irritated with myself over that disaster. Thinking about the incursion, killing the guards I had who, really, were just doing their jobs… it was uncomfortable. Sure I'd left a lot more alive than I otherwise would have, but the guards I killed had nothing to do with the assaultron. I fucked up, and it cost people their lives; lives I took.

Something… different was happening in my head. I'm sure if I went back and thought about it, this wasn't the first time I'd killed people unrelated to my mission objective. The thoughts were strangely conflicting. I couldn't let it impact my combat effectiveness, but at the same time, would I do it again? What were any other people I'd killed mistakenly thinking when I had? Did I have to? Could I have accomplished the mission without doing so?

Questions, once again, began bounding around my head as I thought. And I had no answers.

What's more, what would they think if I told them I stormed in and killed a half dozen innocent people just to get at the damn robot who wasn't even in her shop?

Yeah… that's one I'm not sure I'll be able to bury.

Notes:

Managed to fit a little character development huh? This goes back to a concept I heard from a game a very long time ago, but I don't remember what it is. This is just the beginning of the recognition, and if you know where it's going KEEP IT TO YOURSELF. As far as the 'how he got there' part. Those are some very back alley explanations of an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. It's much more complex than that (especially when you add Quantum Mechanics in, that's where Exotic Matter comes from, we don't actually know what that is/if it exists yet either), and I don't understand it all that well, but surprise surprise, the UNSC was experimenting with something weird and it went wrong. Worry not, there's more to discover on that front, but aside from an annoying expo-dump, that's the cleanest way I could think of adding it. As always, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 19: On the Road Again (The Railroad That Is)

Notes:

Why hello everyone who's made it this far in our journey of insanity and mayhem! We've gotten to Chapter 19 so far, almost 20! It's been a little crazy getting here, but there's a lot more to go. There isn't a whole lot to say about this chapter at yet. Several important things happen, but NO SPOILERS FOR YOU. Oh, and I know I'm a terrible person. Anyways, as always, make sure to let me know what you think, and enjoy!

The next morning, I roused myself as the sun began brightening the eastern horizon over the nuclear and wind scorched wasteland. Something occurred to me as I fell asleep the night before: did they still have the rocket launcher? It wouldn't be the most subtle thing in the world, but I wanted a little more insurance against the Brotherhood than the MacMillan, especially with their air support.

I found it and the spare cartridges sitting in the armory they'd converted Shaun's nursery into. Hefting the weapon, I thought about where I could stash it to keep it away from the Brotherhood's prying eyes, but close enough to get to if I needed it. Carrying the thing with me, along with the sniper, my combat rifle, and a handgun would be far too unwieldy. The biggest risk would be when I pulled the kids out of Diamond city and snuck them up here-

Oh shit. I'd forgotten to ask them about Cassandra, Julian, and Thomas.

The launcher's steel construction meant the mag clamp on my back would finally be useful for something. I secured it, grabbed the half dozen spare rockets, and left the makeshift armory to find Preston.

After a few minutes of searching the small, fortified neighborhood, I found him taking watch in a well shielded house at the southeast corner of the settlement. It was a good position now they had cleared much of the brush that had cluttered the area when I was first here. The firing slots they had built into their armor plates afforded a broad view of the area. It would be difficult for someone to make it to the bridge's south end unnoticed, at least during the day.

"Already heading out", the minuteman asked as I ducked into the house. I noticed him eying the launcher on my back.

"Yes. Do you mind if I take this?"

He shook his head, still looking at the weapon. "No… can I ask why?"

"Insurance."

Preston squinted as a frown spread across his face. "Insurance… you mean if you have to fight the Brotherhood of Steel?"

"When."

The dark skinned man's frown deepened. "When you have to fight them?" I nodded. "Why?"

Why am I going to fight them? Because I won't have a choice, and because if someone doesn't…

"They aren't going to like me double crossing them. Besides, the Brotherhood didn't spend limited resources to come out here just for the Institute."

"Double crossing them?"

"It's a long story."

"Huh. You think they're going to start taking the Commonwealth over?"

I nodded again. "Aggressively."

Preston fell silent again, still studying me. A little doubt joined the curiosity on his face.

"I've heard stories about them, back from the Capital Wasteland. They helped people with the Supermutant problem in the area. Got something called 'Project Purity' up and running that was supposed to clean all the radiation out of the water. Doesn't sound like you're talking about the same people."

"Don't know." I shrugged. "Leadership changes. I know these people, they're fundamentalists."

"Is this one of those things you aren't going to tell me about", he asked, tone dripping with dry sarcasm

A spark of amusement flitted through my gut. "Some of my operations involved Fundie cults. The Brotherhood isn't religious, they aren't that nuanced."

The Minuteman smiled. "Guess not." He began chewing on his lower lip. "I know you don't have a reason to lie about this, but is it possible you got the wrong read on them? I mean, from what they did down in the old capital to what you're saying they're here to do… that's a major switch in less than 10 years."

A lot can happen in a decade.

"They follow whoever is leading."

He took a deep breath. I understand his doubt, I don't have any hard evidence, but I hope he takes the warning.

"I hope you're wrong, we were all kinda excited when we heard about them, but we'll be careful." He shrugged. "We owe you enough to trust you on this."

"Good." I nodded. "Now… I have a favor to ask."

This time the Minuteman's eyes shot wide. "A favor?"

Don't look so damn surprised…

"Yes. There are three kids who lost their parents to Supermutants staying in Diamond City with Nate. Can you take them in?"

"You don't think they'd be safer there?"

"Not with the Brotherhood around."

After another short pause, Preston shrugged. "Sure, we'd all be happy to help. Can always use the extra hands around here too."

As I exhaled, I felt a tension leave my coiled muscles I hadn't realized was there. That's at least one thing that might go right then. Getting those kids away from the Brotherhood would be a massive weight off my shoulders. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it would work for the time being.

"Thank you."

He smiled again. "Any time. You need anything before you leave?" I shook my head. "Well, I'd wait a half hour, if you don't say goodbye to Alexandra before you go, I'll never hear the end of it."

More amusement forced a smile across my face. She was… ardent, maybe even more so than Nate.

"Okay."

Preston chuckled. "Thanks."

I left the Minuteman to his watch and wandered up into the forests behind the settlement. As much as the bunker- Vault Nate had been on ice in tempted me, I didn't have time to figure out how to get inside, let alone explore it.

I let my legs guide me through the sickly looking trees and a few minutes later, I found myself standing at the ravine where I'd killed the first group of Raiders who attacked Sanctuary. The bodies had been removed the day after, but I still saw them, laying in the dirt, blood pouring from the wounds in their heads. There hadn't been many opportunities for me to revisit battlespaces, but the few times I had, I found it… eerie. Leaving dead bodies behind wasn't alien to me, but seeing a place that I'd fought and killed in so peaceful was always strange.

As the sun broke the horizon, it cast the same red glow over everything as it had the morning after the fight. Looking at the scorched forest, visualizing where the bodies had been as I stood over my latest victims, I had the distinct feeling something had changed, but I couldn't place it. I sure as hell didn't regret putting those bastards down, so what was it? Did this have something to do with everything that's happened, everything I've remembered over the past few weeks?

Standing over their apparitions, the answers didn't come. In fact, not much came to mind as the sun's light began fading from deep red, to a dull orange.

I need to go.

A sigh escaped as I turned from the former killing ground and made my way back to the neighborhood to say my goodbyes. As much as I wanted to put everything away, go back to the simplicity of accomplishing the mission, I couldn't, and a larger part of me wanted to keep digging. Something was there, buried under the mountains of built up clutter in my head. Now that I knew it was there, not knowing was even more aggravating than knowing.

Alexandra was sitting with Julian, Sturges, and two of the new citizens I didn't recognize in the carport when I walked back through the settlement, talking over their breakfast. Thinking about it, I hadn't seen Marcy. Was she okay? Alive? She lost everything in the past few months, I know how that can destroy a person.

"You know", she said as I approached, mouth half full of whatever fruit she was eating, "most people wouldn't want to walk all the way back to Diamond City a day and a half after getting here."

I'm not most people.

"Things to do."

I glanced at the two newcomers who were both staring at me with a mixture of curiosity and the customary tepid fear.

"I got that, soldier boy." She motioned to the recoilless gun on my back. "Glad you're taking that thing, I don't think anyone here should use something we can blow ourselves or each other up with."

As Alexandra took another bite, Sturges decided to insert himself into the conversation. "I was thinking about your meet up tomorrow, take Nate with you, he'll probably make working with them a bit easier."

"I planned to."

"Oh yeah? You two start playing nice?"

"For the most part."

The engineer smirked. "What did he have to do to get you to cooperate?"

What did he have to do? I was the one who started that conversation, all he had to do was stop acting like a dumbass.

"Stop making my life more difficult."

"Mmm, considering how impatient you are, that's a pretty broad statement."

I shrugged. He's minimized the pain at this point, and helping him and the kids was… satisfying.

"Well at least you've stopped being a colossal pain in the ass", Alexandra said. "Don't know what he did to you, but you're at least a little less anti-social."

"He almost never stops talking."

"So he's forced you to do it."

"More or less."

Julian chuckled. "If you ask me, I like it."

Hmm… there's an opportunity.

I fixed the teenager in a glare. "I didn't ask you", I said in my best DI voice.

The look of shock, doubt, and unease that flashed across his face was too good. I couldn't stop the laugh.

His cheeks turned red as he heard it, and his mother and Sturges joined me after a short, surprised pause. The other two looked more bewildered than anything else.

"Yeah", Sturges said, taking a few deep breaths, "Nate definitely did something to you."

I shrugged again.

Julian didn't look too thrilled with being the punchline. "Ass."

No one ever accused me of being nice.

"You said you liked it", Alexandra chuckled.

"I don't like being scared for a joke."

Sturges gave him a hard pound on the back. "Don't worry, it means he likes you."

The teenager shot me an irritated glance. "Uh-huh."

As amusing as it was to give the kid shit, I needed to get moving. The longer I hung around here, the more risk Nate and the trio he was protecting was at.

"I'm heading out."

"Try to stop by more often", Alexandra said, "you're a nice break in the monotony."

I don't think you'll want the type of 'break in monotony' I'm going to bring with me if I come back any time soon.

"We'll see."

"Oh that sounded promising, soldier boy."

Something else came to mind as she spoke. What if I brought a fight with me? They've done well fortifying the settlement, but they don't have much manpower. What happens if the Brotherhood finds this place? Or the Institute? Or Gunners?

"Do you have any radios?"

"What, that fancy armor doesn't?"

I shook my head. "Broken."

"Nothing portable", Sturges interjected. "But you might find something in Diamond City." He leaned back and looked into the doorway. "Hey Valentine."

There was a moment of quiet before the groggy reply. "... Yeah?"

"Anywhere to get a radio in the city?"

"No."

"Oh… never mind then." The engineer paused. "Ask Deacon when you see him. They have plenty of that stuff. My radio is set to 123.05 AM."

"Will do."

"And… thanks again."

I nodded before turning to leave. Getting a radio that was capable of handling military frequencies might be invaluable if the Brotherhood doesn't encrypt their comms.

As I left the settlement and began my journey south again, I felt a growing unease surge into the back of my mind. There were too many people I had to worry about, separated by too much travel time. My attention was spreading too thin, especially with the extremely limited resources I have. I need to find a way to secure Sanctuary once the kids are here; they were too much of a distraction, and it might lead to mistakes. That's something I can't afford once I double cross the Brotherhood. I'll have them, Kleo, and the Gunner soon enough, all coming after me. If any of them manage to connect me to this place, it's going to turn into leverage because, contrary to my SOP, somewhere along the line a part of me started caring about these people.

I can't let them suffer for that.

X

"It's just hard for me to imagine you getting something done without me, and you didn't shoot anyone."

I'll remember that the next time you need me to shoot someone.

"I can fix that."

Nate shot me a glare before turning back to the market below. We were in the stadium's stands a few dozen meters above Knight Sergeant Ramirez's shack as the sun cast long shadows across everything, a few minutes from dipping below the city's rim.

"So we're just supposed to wait until he finds us?"

"Or we find him."

"Huh." He didn't look convinced

"Will they be alright here alone?"

The ex-soldier shrugged. "Cassandra seems to know her way around the stadium. Don't know if that will help, but it's something."

"What about Gwen and Ramirez?"

"They're fine, if a little stiff. I'm not worried about them… I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop." He looked back at me. "You know there's no way the Brotherhood doesn't know we're up to something. Maxson's been cooperative, but he isn't dumb. Even if he didn't think we were lying, he'd be preparing contingencies."

I nodded.

"So do you have any? I managed to get Cassandra away from them for a few hours yesterday and I brainstormed a few escape plans. Problem is, with the manpower and equipment they can come at us with, we're relying on slipping out of a very confined space when they can cover us with air support and power armor. Much as I hate to admit it, I'm a soldier, not SF. Sneaking around isn't my game; I shoot what I'm told to shoot."

Contingencies… besides the recoilless gun I stashed in the stands above the city's main entrance, I didn't have much, not for lack of trying. Best I could do with the extremely limited information I have on the Brotherhood's troop deployment, their SOPs, and the stadium's construction is run interference while Nate pulls them out of a side entrance. Problem with that: it would be trivial for the Brotherhood to cover the entire perimeter with the resources at their disposal. It would put them on extremely bad terms with the town, but they probably wouldn't care in that instance.

"No."

Nate frowned. "I expected something."

"Sometimes the best you can do is improvise."

"Well that might work for you, but what about us?"

"You said you're a soldier. Adapt."

The smaller man grumbled, but didn't reply. He knew if I had something, I'd at least hint at it, even if I didn't tell him.

"I will, it's just…" He looked away. "This shit scares me, Damon. What happens if- what if I let them down too?"

I blinked. What do I say to that? I'd guessed he was drawing connections between this and Shaun's kidnapping, but… I didn't expect him to say it.

Nate didn't turn back to me, but I could see the rage on his face. "I can't do that again. Ever."

The pain and loss that flowed under the anger in his voice hit a little too close to my own. Those kids, what happened to them, what would happen if the Brotherhood managed to take them-

I don't want them to end up like me.

The thought felt like a spear driving through my chest. I don't want them to end up like me? What does that mean?

I know exactly what that means.

My eyes drifted to the small shack where the three were eating with Gwen. No, they've already seen and felt the same things I had, I can't let their fear and hatred become a weapon too.

We each have our reasons, but that can't influence how we proceed. I've been letting emotion get in the way too much, and if I'm going to do this, that has to stop.

"We might be able to get radios from the Railroad."

"At least we'll be able to talk without the Brotherhood listening-" The ex-soldier froze mid-sentence. "Radios. Piper." He looked at me. "I have an idea."

Uh oh, the reporter? I motioned for him to continue.

"I guarantee you she knows this place inside and out. She might not be willing to put herself in danger to help, but we can always ask."

If she could give me the place's layout, places to hide, defensible positions, potential escape routes, it would be useful, but how else would she help? Even if Piper decided to take the trio in when shit hits the fan, she isn't a soldier. What could she do?

"The information will be useful."

"I think she can offer more than that?"

I cocked my head. "How so?"

Nate frowned. "Let me talk with her first. Can you watch after the kids for a while?"

"Yeah…"

"Good." He pushed himself away from the railing. "I'll be back."

I almost said something to stop the smaller man as he began toward the stands' staircase, but restrained myself. He has an idea, he knows to be careful, I can let him run with it.

After wrestling my unease into submission, I started after my companion. While he continued down into the market, I made my way through the bleachers toward the shack. There was no conversation drifting from the small, cobbled together building. Usually the three talked constantly through meals.

Swinging the door open, I leaned forward to peer into the cramped interior. Gwen, Cassandra, Julian, and Thomas were sitting around the single room, eating quietly. There was a thick tension in the air that felt as if it was on the verge of breaking. Gwen and Ramirez had made it clear they weren't happy about babysitting, but this was more than that. Were the three of them starting to understand what the Brotherhood had in mind?

They all turned to the sound of the flimsy door squeaking its way open on improvised hinges, and the kids' faces brightened.

"Damon", Cassandra exclaimed. She sounded happy, almost relieved. "Took you long enough." The two young boys looked eager to jump up, but they also had plates on their laps that would fling food everywhere if they did.

The Brotherhood Knight cleared her throat. "Where's Nate?"

"Went down to the market for something."

Gwen squinted at me. "Okay."

"I don't feel like cramming myself in there."

"Sure, sure", she said and nodded at Cassandra.

The teenager leapt to her feet after picking up her food, followed by Thomas and Julian. I moved out of the way as they hurried out of the too small interior and we sat in the stands next to the shack.

"So where'd you go", Julian asked as they started eating again.

And here come the questions. That took no time at all. Oh boy. If I say the wrong thing, this whole operation could be thrown out the window. "To talk with someone about helping Nate."

"With what?"

"The Institute."

"He said something about that, he's got a baby he wants to get back, right?" I nodded. "Are you looking for something too?"

Hmm… How would I explain that? Nate's situation is simple enough, but there's no way I can spin what I'm looking for to make it palatable for them.

"I'm just helping Nate."

"You aren't doing anything about what happened to your family?"

The sudden shock of the memory forced me to stifle a wince. No…? At least, not at the moment. I shook my head hesitantly. I was starting to wish I'd left them in the shack. Sort of.

"Hey Julian", Cassandra interjected, "I think we've had enough questions, finish up eating"

"But- Damon just got back."

She shot me a small smile. "Damon's probably had a long few days. He might want to sleep too. Right?"

The last three days have been easy and I got plenty of sleep, so no I wasn't tired, but if it got me out of any more questions… I nodded.

"See? Come on."

A comically deep frown spread across Julian's face, but he went back to his food. Relative silence fell back over us, with only the bustling sounds of the market below intruding on their dinner. It wasn't the same sort of anxious quiet that filled the shack. The silence was easy, even companionable. Seeing everyone at Sanctuary, how well they were doing, it was a relief. A heady one I hadn't expected. I was… glad they were doing well. And I was relieved we had a place to take the kids where they would probably be safe.

A few minutes of quiet eating later, the three of them had finished. Cassandra was looking out over the collection of cobbled together shacks, an oddly forlorn expression on her face. It brought a question to mind, but how was I supposed to ask it? Did I have any right to? I sure as hell hadn't wanted to talk about my past, so why would she?

While I was lost in thought, she noticed me watching and shot me a questioning look. I shook myself out of my own head. The worst she can do is not answer.

"Where are you from?"

The teenager's frown deepened. "I'm from here."

"Diamond City?"

"No, the Commonwealth."

"Right." It wasn't really an answer, but if she didn't want to talk about it…

"Used to live on a farm with my parents and a few other families to the northeast." She took a deep breath. "We were attacked by Raiders." She fell silent, eyes reaching back toward the mess of shanties and shacks below, but I didn't need her to finish; I'd seen enough.

"You mind if we talk alone for a minute?"

She shot me a quizzical glance and I nodded at the small building beside us.

Her confusion morphed into understanding. "Can you guys go clean the plates off?" She pushed her plate toward Julian. "We'll be in after we talk."

The two young kids both looked at her, eyes wide. "But we want to stay. Why do you get to talk with Damon alone", Julian said.

"Because he wants to."

Damn. That sounded like Katrina.

"Fine", the boy pouted before taking Cassandra's plate. The two of them stalked back to the shack, shooting glances back our way. I've never seen a pair of kids their age look so angry (not that I'd seen many). It almost made me laugh.

I stood to walk further away from the thin walled makeshift shelter. Gwen might not be able to hear inside, but I wanted to take as few chances as possible.

"The place we're going to take you agreed to make space", I said as we stopped a dozen meters from the shack.

Cassandra bit her lower lip as she glanced back. "Sanctuary?"

I nodded. "It's a smaller settlement, but they're well armed and well fortified."

"So was mine", she said, somber. "Both times."

There wasn't much I could say to that; numbers were always important for communities like theirs. I've come across more than a few failed colonies in my time hoping from planet to planet. There was never one cause, but many just seemed too small to sustain themselves, falling to the Remnants, or humanity's own scavengers. Some were better prepared than others, but a large enough force, or a well equipped one, could do whatever they wanted.

Was I doing the right thing? Maybe these three would be safer here. Diamond city is relatively large, with a sizable enough standing force, it would be difficult, and costly for the Brotherhood to overwhelm them, even with air support. But they'll still be within their reach here. Have I put these kids in the middle of what will be my fight with the Brotherhood? How can I protect them if I'm at the Institute? If I find a way back to the UNSC? Can I trust Preston's group? They've doubled in size in a month, and they're in a defensible, well fortified position, but 15 people, some guns, and a few armored houses aren't going to stand up to any sustained assault.

There was an answer, but… it would delay getting to the Institute, my mission objective. It would delay Nate reuniting with his son. Could I ask him to do that?

These three are my responsibility now. I saved them from that mess, I can't put them right back into another.

If I take time to secure Sanctuary, that pushes my timeline for getting back to my reality.

I don't even know what that timeline is. … And if there was one thing I could justify delaying that for, one thing I could make time for, wouldn't it be this? Wouldn't it be to try and help these kids who suffered the same horrors I had? If I can't take the opportunity to save them, of all people, what the hell am I fighting for? Revenge?

My mind sputtered, trying to come up with a counter, but there was nothing. A few weeks ago, I probably could have stomached it, put the kids in Sanctuary, and been done. But now… I know what they're feeling, I remember what it was like. I couldn't risk it, Sanctuary getting attacked, and these three losing another home. That would be something I don't think I'd ever get over.

What about Nate?

I hesitated. Would he be alright taking the time to do this right? How long would it be? Clearing the immediate area, recruiting new settlers, bringing back supplies, setting up infrastructure, and removing potential threats like the Raiders Alexandra had mentioned… Weeks. At least.

Can I bring someone else on board to help? The Railroad? The Institute?

I'll have to ask Nate, but whatever happens, I'm not leaving these kids to flap in the wind.

I emerged from my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize we'd been standing in silence for a while. Cassandra hadn't seemed to notice either; she was still staring out across the cobble together mess that was Diamond City.

"I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

The young girl jumped, like she was surprised I was still there, and turned to me, a thin film of tears in her eyes.

"Can you promise that? Can you promise we'll be safe? I don't- I can't do this anymore." Her voice was on the verge of breaking. It was a pain so deep, and so familiar, the pit that opened in my stomach felt endless. "I've been bouncing from place to place for so long, I've been so afraid of another attack for so long- I couldn't do anything, I couldn't even sleep. Then I found them, and they helped me- they gave me a home, made me feel like- like there was a tomorrow." Her shoulders started shaking. "And now they're dead too. Julian and Thomas, they're family is gone. Now they're like me and- and is it my fault? Would they Supermutants have attacked if I wasn't there?" She stopped and slumped into a seat, head in her hands.

She's been holding it together for those two. She's been doing it because she knows if she breaks, they will too.

Cassandra was doing this for them; her entire life revolved around Julian and Thomas now. Their family took her in and gave her a second chance, something I never gave myself an opportunity for.

And it was torn from her.

Was she responsible for the attack? No, probably not. But guilt is rarely based in reason.

Could I promise they'd be safe?

No, I couldn't, and I wasn't going to lie about that. She deserved that much. But all three deserve the best opportunity I can give them.

"I can't", I said, and she looked up at me, tears beginning to stream down her face. "You know too many things can happen. But I'll get as close as anyone can."

The young girl opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She sat there, staring up into my visor. Was she thinking about what I'd said? Was she disappointed I couldn't give her a guarantee? Did-

"Did someone do the same for you?"

What? I cocked my head.

"You said your home was attacked when you were young too. Did someone help you?"

No, I didn't say my home was attacked, I said something like that happened. It probably wasn't difficult to guess though.

"Sort of." I shrugged. "What happened to me was… different. My people were at war." I motioned to myself. "I thought this was the closest thing I could get."

"Thought? Do- did you trust whoever did this to you?"

To me? I did this to myself. If you're asking whether I trust ONI or not…

"No, but like I said, it was different. I'm not offering to turn you into a soldier." I'm offering the opposite.

"You want to give us a chance. Another chance." I nodded. She took a deep breath and looked at the shack. "I just want them to be safe."

"I know."

Cassandra fell silent for a few moments, even the sound drifting up from the bustling market seeming to mute itself.

"Okay." She cleared her throat. "Whatever we need to do to get there, we'll do."

"Thank you." I wasn't relieved, so much as determined. There was no way of knowing if this was the right thing, but I'll do everything I can to make it the right thing. "For now, keep your head down. We'll take you there as soon as it's safe."

Footsteps against the concrete stairs leading toward us drew my attention, and I turned to see Nate walking up, gaze a little too sharp to be normal.

"I need to talk with him", I said.

The teenager stood. "Okay." She cast a quick glance at the ex-soldier, then me, something that may have been hope brightening her eyes.

As she walked back to the shack, Nate came to a stop beside me and watched her silently. It wasn't until the thin wooden door swung shut behind her that he turned to me. "Care to explain?"

I met the smaller man's gaze. How do I approach this? What do I tell him? What would I do if he disagreed?

"I'm going to take some time to make sure they're safe."

Nate squinted. "What does that mean?"

"Sanctuary will be the best place for them, but it isn't secure enough. I-" That's strange. It isn't a mission objective, it isn't an order from Fourier, it isn't a directive from my handlers… it's something I want. I'm letting that override my decision making. And I'm happy about it. "I want to take some time to secure the area, and help reinforce Sanctuary."

The ex-soldier stared up at me, wordlessly, face utterly blank. Was that good? He's terrible at hiding when he's upset, so at least he isn't that, but then what?

It was 30 seconds before he sighed and looked away. "Dammit."

What does that mean?

"What?"

"I said 'dammit'." The smaller man met my gaze once again. "I was hoping you'd continue being the pragmatic one so I didn't have to make this decision. I want to help them too and- and I want my son back, but if we don't help these kids, will anyone? If we leave them in Sanctuary to fend for themselves, will they be alright? Shaun's my son, he has to be my priority. But he's safe, at least according to Kellogg, and I got the chance to dig around in his memories." His gaze fell to the ground between us. "I just want to see him again. I want to see him again so bad I can barely stand it. I don't know what to do."

I didn't either, really. I'm making it up as I go at this point. But I do know what I want, and it's been a long time since I've felt this way about something enough to do it.

"We may be able to use the Institute to help, but we need to establish a baseline first." Nate kept his eyes pointed at the ground, but nodded. So he's on board, at least for now.

"If they're willing to help." He finally met my gaze.

"If they're willing to help, but that goes for us too."

The ex-soldier grimaced. "Right." He paused again, slight frown and wrinkled forehead. I couldn't blame him for having doubts; Nate was trying to get his son back, and now we're delaying that.

"Okay", he said eventually, "how long do you think this will take?"

"Can't say yet, but we'll know more about what the Railroad needs from us tomorrow. We can begin putting a plan together then."

"Do you think the Railroad might be able to help?"

I shrugged. "It's possible."

He sighed, looking toward the market with the same expression of loss and longing Cassandra had. "Goddammit. Why can't I say no? Why can't I just- just get Shaun back."

That's something I understand too. "You want to help."

The smaller man smiled. "Yeah. Maybe." He turned back, once again, still smiling. "Piper said she'd help… if I introduce you." I cocked my head. "Don't worry, I didn't say anything, but she's going to ask a lot of questions."

Great.

X

"You want me to ask him for what?" Nate was staring at me like I'd grown a second head (still don't understand how livestock would do that), as we stood near Valentine's shack a few minutes before noon.

"Mutfruit glaze. It's something Sturges said to him when we met."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "Something to do with their past."

"So now I'm in some cheap spy flick, huh", he muttered.

An amused grin crept across my face. "I thought so too."

"Okay, so sunglasses, blue baseball hat, Mutfruit glaze, whatever the hell that is." I nodded. The ex-soldier looked me over, frowning. "If you didn't stick out so damn much… no guarantee the Brotherhood won't be able to track me."

In that commotion? Keeping track of any one person in the market would be difficult for almost anyone, especially if they don't know they're supposed to be looking for them. Standing head and shoulders above everyone, in Mjolnir, defeats the purpose of a meeting like this. Nate knew that, he was just partaking in his regularly scheduled bitching.

"I'll meet you under Kellogg's house."

He looked disappointed. "Could you give it back to me, just once?"

What? Join him in complaining about everything? No thanks.

"Don't get followed."

"That'd be a no…"

Five minutes later, I was high in the stands overlooking Diamond City's market which, as usual, was bustling with activity. Even magnified through my visor, Nate's unremarkable appearance made him difficult to track through the throng of people (which can be good or bad, depending on the point of view) while also searching for Deacon's blue hat, and any potential tails. It wasn't critical the Brotherhood didn't know we were meeting with someone, but it would raise fewer questions.

Almost as if on cue, I caught a glimpse of deep blue in the crowd as the clock in my HUD ticked over to 1200. I hated not having comms. Deacon made his way to the end of the market closest to the main entrance while Nate began moving toward some of the kiosks ringing the crowd, probably to get a better vantage point. It wasn't the best idea, anyone watching would be able to pick him back up easier, but unless he got lucky, he wasn't going to find the Railroad agent wandering through the mass of people.

The inability to contact either while they headed in different directions was agonizing. I'd be lying if I said a small part of me didn't want to go down there instead of waiting for Nate to notice the man now standing beside what looked like a food cart near the southern edge.

It wasn't all impatience though. Deacon was expecting me, and I'd stick out in any crowd, so if it took too long for the ex-soldier to make contact, the Railroad agent might get spooked and bug out. If he looked like he was about to leave, I wouldn't have a choice but to intercept. There was no other way of contacting the Railroad, and I doubt they'd be willing to risk a second meeting, for multiple reasons.

Thankfully it didn't come to that.

After what felt like years, but was actually about five minutes, I watched Nate catch sight of Deacon's navy blue hat. Now comes the part that concerned me the most. If the ex-soldier made a beeline to the contact, it would attract attention, unwanted or otherwise, and probably scare Deacon off. And there's still the chance he sees an unknown, armed man moving toward him, the agent might disengage anyways.

Nate didn't rush over to the Railroad agent, thankfully, instead slowly filtering his way through the crowd toward him. Unfortunately, his eyes stayed glued on his target. Anyone watching would have been tipped off immediately. I guess I can't get everything…

I took several deep breaths as he neared the kiosk. Operating alone is one thing, but watching someone else handle part of a mission this important was far more stressful than doing it myself. I couldn't do or control anything besides wait and hope. If Deacon bugged out, I'd probably be able to catch him before he left, but it would draw a lot of attention, both from any Brotherhood members watching, and the citizens. One thing I learned early in training: leave as small a footprint as possible. Something I learned early during my solo deployments: if you can't do that, make sure anyone who might find your footprint wasn't alive. Neither of those would be tenable.

Nate cleared the last few people around the small food stand, and made his way around to the side opposite Deacon. He said something (reading lips was a skill I should pick up at some point, but I could guess) and the Railroad agent met his gaze. Now that Deacon was facing away, I couldn't see his expression, but he didn't bolt away. That was encouraging.

I stayed crouched in the shadows cast by the stadium's walls watching them talk for the better part of a minute. It felt a lot longer. Nervousness tugged at the back of my mind, but soon enough, Nate nodded and they waded back into the sea of bodies.

A small wave of relief pushed the tension away, but there was still the question of what Deacon is going to ask for.

The answer wasn't going to pop out of thin air, so I began making my way down to our prescribed meeting place. While I picked through the stands, it was impossible to avoid the citizens staring at me. Between me and Kellogg's house were a few dozen shacks similar to the temporary Brotherhood outpost. Those were looks I was used to, it was one of the few things I didn't find disconcerting about being around civilians.

As I reached the house, I heard muffled talking from below. I couldn't tell what they were saying, but it didn't sound like either Deacon or Nate. Was someone else using this? Dammit. It wasn't the end of the world, but it was definitely inconvenient.

"No… you don't want to do that." Hmm, that was Nate's voice. He had the same carefully genial tone in his voice as he had when we were confronted by those assholes in Goodneighbor. Someone's trying to mug him? Again?

Exposing myself to whoever is down there could only lead to complications. I'm sure rumors of me have spread all over the place, so showing up in a situation like that would be sure to make the rounds too. That gets back to the Brotherhood, and they shorten the leash. If I kill whoever it is, maybe I'm not implicated, but people might start asking questions. The best option is to watch and wait.

"I can't tell you how many times I've heard that", a slightly too excited voice responded.

I didn't even consider trying to balance my way out onto the house's support posts, they looked like they were ready to collapse on their own. Slipping around the house, I hugged what was left of the stands and made my way down behind the flimsy looking structure.

Sure enough, near the front of the building were Nate and Deacon half surrounded by four gaunt looking men in tattered clothes and an eclectic collection of firearms.

"We don't have anything valuable."

"That rifle says you're full of shit. That thing alone is worth 500 caps."

Caps. Bottle caps. They use goddamn bottle caps as currency. It's been over a month now and I still can't get over that.

I tucked myself into the shadows cast by the dead mercenary's house, rifle trained on the guy Nate was talking with.

"I got this from the Brotherhood. Don't think they'd be too happy with their hardware being stolen."

Two of the men laughed.

"Gotta say man, that's a new one", their leader said, "the Brotherhood huh? So where's your power armor?"

"On the Prydwen."

"The what?"

Nate sighed, trying to sound exasperated. The little gang might have bought it, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him.

"The big flying thing. It's an airship called the Prydwen."

"You better watch who you're talking to, jackass, or I'll leave your body for the Supermutants to eat."

This time I tensed. That was the wrong threat to make.

I slipped my finger over my rifle's trigger as the leader stepped forward, pistol inches from my companion's face.

"I want that gun 'Knight'."

Without seeing his expression, I couldn't tell exactly what Nate was thinking, but if I could guess he wasn't fond of this guy's threat either. What was he going to do about it though? Four guns in his face and Deacon clearly wasn't interested in getting involved. We can always find him another rifle. The gang was still trying to intimidate; firing a shot here would draw the attention of one of the many guards. Unless things get any worse, interfering would only make things more complicated.

The ex-soldier reached for the sling over his neck. As his hands neared it, even from my vantage point, I could see the four men relax a fraction.

And then Nate's hands snapped forward. In the next moment, the leader, who had been standing far closer than anyone with experience would have, was staring down the barrel of his own weapon.

"Slow down", Nate barked as the other three jumped, "or your boss gets a new hole to breathe through." He paused, and I readied myself to intervene. It certainly wasn't the response I was expecting, but I was impressed. The problem is the ex-soldier now had three guns leveled at him with no protection at damn near point blank range. Deacon had produced a 10mm handgun as well, but if the shooting started, it wouldn't end well. If I did something now, it might send these assholes over the edge.

"Have you seen what happens to the people Supermutants leave behind?" Nate's voice was calm and low, but it was a facade, like a thin layer of ice over an ocean of rage. "I have. If you knew, you wouldn't throw around threats like that. My equipment isn't worth your life, so you're going to leave me and my friend alone, and find someone else to bother. Understood?"

The wide eyed, open mouthed stunned expression on the gang leader's face would have been amusing in another situation. This guy is the definition of an amateur.

"You're still outnumbered."

"I'll make sure all four of you come with me then." It was an oddly out of character statement, but Nate was clearly pissed. "I'm waiting."

There was a short pause before the man nodded. "Okay- okay fine. Can I at least have my gun back?"

"You're lucky I don't only give the bullets back, now leave."

"You think-", one of the others started.

Deacon shifted. "Look friends, if we were looking for trouble, the shooting would have started when I noticed you four following us from the noodle stand. No point in getting dirty now when everyone can walk away from this with no new wounds, right?"

Silence filled the shadows under Kellogg's house. By now it wasn't just my arm that was coiled, my entire body was loaded, ready for the fighting to start. This was far more restraint than I like using, but so many things were outside of my SOP now, I was beginning to question how useful my old habits are.

"Fine", the leader said, "let's go."

He backed away, eyes glued to the ex-soldier. The others hesitated, but as their boss left the shadow of the suspended house, they followed suit.

And I'm the one who needs to reign their emotions in.

I slipped toward the pair of men.

"While I appreciate the bravado", Deacon said, "next time I'd prefer if you didn't. I can get you another one of those."

The ex-soldier began searching the shadows. "Well if someone hadn't been watching, that might not have gone that way." As he finished, his eyes landed on me. They widened a fraction before the irritated frown returned. "Enjoy the show?"

"Getting involved would have only made things worse. I was prepared."

"Right. Prepared." It was hard to tell if the smaller man's clipped tone was directed at me, or he was still agitated about the Supermutants threat.

Deacon shifted. "You don't want to be seen meeting with a strange man under a dead mercenary's house."

He knows this is Kellogg's house, huh? Deacon gets around.

"Yes."

"Fair enough. Not the first time I've had a gun pointed at me."

"What do you need from us?"

"Skipping the friendly greeting again I see." The Railroad agent nodded. "First, we need to see the chip."

"I need to know you have something to lose."

"Does my life count?" I shook my head. If someone wanted this badly enough, anyone they sent to retrieve it would be expendable. "Fair enough, I shouldn't have expected it to be that easy." He reached into a pocket and produced a folded, hand drawn map, and something small, black, and rectangular. "Either of you know this area well?"

"Yes", Nate said, still irritated.

"Good. A few days ago, we ran across a signal on an Institute channel that led us to a dead Courser." He held up the mystery object. "It had this on it. Showed records for two Synths we helped escape a few years back. They were supposed to meet where we found the Courser. My hunch is they killed it and escaped. I managed to follow the Institute bastard's trail back to a hideout where they had information on both stored in a mainframe. Problem now is I don't know whether we have a leak, or if the Institute knows about other escaped Synths we've worked with."

My companion shrugged "So… what are you asking us to do?"

"I can get in touch with one, she works with the Gunners. They aren't the friendliest bunch, but she'll remember me. The other… he runs with a gang of Raiders now."

My eyes narrowed. One of their Synths is in the Gunners?

"The Gunners kidnapped another escaped Synth."

Deacon nodded. "We've known they do for a while now. Problem is we aren't big enough to deal with them."

"Do they know she's a Synth?"

"Probably not, otherwise she wouldn't be a captain."

"You want us to contact the other one", Nate interjected.

The Railroad agent nodded again. "Right."

"If he's with the Raiders now, will he be cooperative?"

"Him? Probably, if you tell him the Railroad sent you. I can't speak for the rest of his gang."

"And what if he isn't?"

"If you're asking whether you should kill him or not, I'd prefer you didn't. We want information, not a dead guy."

He's a Raider now. Why would you feel bad about killing him?

There was one, more important question here though. "Why are you asking us to do this?"

"Because neither of us trust the other. This won't fix that, but at the very least, it gets you involved in our operations. Both of us get collateral."

"How does that work?"

"You know where some of our people are, which means if you need something to hold over us, you at least have that. I get the information I need, and can feel a little better about risking my people."

Nate cleared his throat. The ex-soldier seems to have gotten over his little outburst. "This still doesn't seem like a straight up trade. We're doing something for you, we don't know it isn't a trap, and don't get anything in return."

"You get our help. Isn't that what you came to me for?"

"And what's to stop you from reneging on your end?"

Deacon pointed at me. "The chip. We've been waiting for an opportunity like this for years."

Regardless of what he says, it still comes down to taking the man's word for it. I was starting to get very tired of going into situations like this with no contingency.

The Brotherhood.

… I hated myself for thinking that. I do have a contingency, just not one I want to use. More than that, one I would explicitly rather destroy than use.

But I have to hedge my bets somewhere.

"If this is a trap, I turn the chip over to the Brotherhood."

Nate shot a surprised glance at me. Deacon's was more measured.

"That's a leap I wasn't expecting."

"It's more peaceful than the alternative."

A ghost of a smile crossed the Railroad agent's face. "While I appreciate the consideration, that won't be necessary. I'm well informed of your exploits with the Triggermen and Kellogg. Even your little incursion into Goodneighbor."

Oh I'd probably end up doing that too anyways.

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"So you'll do it."

I glanced at Nate. The smaller man rolled his eyes, but nodded.

"Yeah", he said, exasperated, "we'll stick our necks on the chopping block. Again."

"Alright, good." Deacon handed the map and mystery device to Nate. "The gang's hideout is marked, tell them Deacon sent you." He looked up at me. "And if you have to fight, please try to keep the Synth alive. His name is Burner. Tall- well taller than average, I guess, and red hair. It's hard to miss."

Keep him alive? "As long as it doesn't put either of us in danger."

"Fair enough. Let me see your Pip-boy." Deacon motioned to the device on Nate's wrist.

After a moment's hesitation, the ex-soldier offered his arm. A few clicks and a bit of grumbling later, the Railroad agent released it and stepped back.

"You have our channel programmed in. I haven't given you the encryption key, trust and all that, so when you're done send a message. We'll meet two hours later at the entrance you used during your run in with our venerable classy gangsters."

I cocked my head. It wasn't a stretch that he'd know where the Triggermen were if he knew about our rescue operation, but it was an odd spot to meet. "Aren't they still there?"

"They sealed that entrance off after you tore them a new one. It'll be clear."

Nate cleared his throat. "We're doing a whole lot of trusting here."

"You aren't the only one, friend. This is a very sensitive operation for us. Now, can I see the chip?"

Deacon hadn't really offered anything yet, but if we were going to move forward, he needed to be cooperative.

I stepped back and pulled the gauze wrapped chip from my satchel and unwound the bandage. The Railroad agent looked on with naked curiosity as I held it up for him to see.

"Damn… so long trying to get our hands on one of those things." He smiled. "You have no clue how excited I am for this."

Nate was looking at the device with almost the same interest Deacon was. Right… this is the first time he's seen it.

As I began to re-wrap the subject of everyone's curiosity, our contact chuckled.

"Don't lose it."

I was tired of talking at this point. We're here, we have a mission objective, and if it turns out Deacon is leading us along, he'll learn that's a bad idea the hard way.

"We'll be in touch."

The Railroad agent nodded. I shot Nate a glare as he opened his mouth, probably in protest. The only thing we'd get from any more talking is wasted time.

"Good luck."

With that, Deacon slipped from underneath the house. We waited a few minutes, my companion staring daggers at me the entire time, before the two of us followed suit. I was vigilant for that amateur group of thugs as we climbed back into the stands, but it looked like they didn't want any more trouble. At least not from us.

"I appreciate you involving me in that decision", Nate said as we neared the shack, voice dripping sarcasm.

"I did. There was nothing he could have said to gain my trust. The only way forward is to do the damn mission."

"We should- could have squeezed more information from him. We don't know anything about the Railroad outside of 'they help Synths and the Institute doesn't like them.' No numbers, organization, resources, nothing."

Would that affect what we have to do? Not really. And I doubt Deacon would have given that information anyway.

"How would that help?"

Nate glared up at me, a bit of surprise in his expression. "I don't understand how your brain works. You're so careful sometimes, and then others it's 'don't care, I'll just kill it.'"

Some things require more attention than others.

I shrugged. "We have a path forward. Where are we supposed to go?"

"I'm gonna get through that two foot thick skull of yours one day."

Uh-huh.

He didn't bother waiting for a response. The smaller man unfolded the map and took a moment to study it. I compared it to the admittedly poor mental image I have of the city and got a rough idea of what I was looking at, but the marks on it meant nothing to me.

"So… we have to go to Back Street Apparel. Nora-" the ex-soldier shuddered. "She liked their clothes. It's about an hour and a half walk from here."

It was closing in on 1300. Between arranging something with the chip, getting something to eat, and the kids, we probably wouldn't be leaving for a few hours, which means we'd be moving at night on the way back. If Nate still had his T-60, I'd consider it, but there were too many risks crossing the destroyed cityscape at night without it.

The ex-soldier met my gaze again as I thought. "We should wait until tomorrow."

"Agreed."

We returned to the shack and found the trio of kids with Ramirez and Gwen. The two Brotherhood knights looked both bored and irritated, while Cassandra, Julian, and Thomas were sitting in nervous silence.

While I would have preferred to get started on this latest leg of our mission, there are still things I need to figure out.

A few minutes later, the five of us were sitting in the stands again. I was taking inventory of my supplies as I thought.

I still didn't like this idea.

Handing the chip over to the Brotherhood felt wrong, but outside of the more direct retaliation I prefer (which I can't do since I don't know where the Railroad is based), it's my best option. They're the only ones who would be able to do something with it, and while I haven't met anything I'm concerned might kill me yet, I can't always depend on that. Would it screw the Institute over? Probably, but that won't be my problem if we cross that bridge.

The question now is how do I handle it? Hiding it somewhere risked them finding it prematurely, and in case I'm unable to return if things go upside down, I can't take it with me.

I glanced at Nate. The ex-soldier won't stay behind this time; regardless of how he feels about leaving the kids with Ramirez and Gwen, this is a massive opportunity to get closer to the Institute. He won't sit that out.

Piper, the reporter, was a no go.

Cassandra?

She was playing… something with the two younger kids. It involved a ball and several splinters of wood, but I wasn't interested enough to delve any deeper.

The teenager was resourceful, and smart. She trusts me, I think, but can I trust her with the only lead we have on the Institute?

When I only have bad options, take the least bad.

Is that really the least bad?

I ran several other ideas through my head, from organizing something with the two Brotherhood knights, to Sanctuary. On the timetable we have, it's the only solution that keeps things loose enough to be flexible.

But if I don't talk to Nate, he'll never let me hear the end of it.

Placing the fifth magazine back in it's MOLLE pouch, I stood. "Can we talk?"

The ex-soldier turned to me, eyes narrowed. "About?"

"Our contingency."

"For Deacon?"

I nodded.

"Okay", he said as he climbed to his feet. The smaller man looked at the trio watching us. "We'll be back in a sec."

We stopped once out of ear shot.

"I want to give the Courser chip to Cassandra in case this is a trap."

My companion didn't respond immediately, instead electing to stare into my visor, as if a more detailed explanation was written on it.

Eventually he relented. "You don't think it will be safe with us."

"No, and this is first contact. I don't want to risk losing it."

"Right. So you're serious about handing it over to the Brotherhood."

"We won't have another option if the Railroad turns into a dead end."

He grimaced. "I know, but that puts a bad taste in my mouth."

You aren't the only one.

"You trust Cassandra with it", he asked.

"I don't know, but we don't have a better option."

"Okay… how-" the ex-soldier paused for a moment before reaching for a magazine. "Hold on." He began discharging the rounds and once it was empty, he held his hand out. "Give me the chip."

I cocked my head but, as I reached into my satchel for the gauze wrapped card, I realized what he was doing.

The smaller man took it and pushed the entire bundle into the bottom of the magazine. There was just enough room for a few rounds to top it off. If anyone happened to pick it up, the weight would tell them something was off, but it would pass a cursory inspection.

"It isn't perfect, but it will protect the chip and draw less attention than a wad of gauze."

Right, so we're entrusting the chip to a young girl we've known for a little over a week, stuffed into a magazine. This is a great idea.

Notes:

Ah, so no action again huh? Nope, not really, though Nate did have a little rage moment tucked in there. There's a very, very, good reason for that, but you don't get to know until later! I thought our characters deserved a break though; between their time trudging through the Glowing Sea, to Damon fighting the Courser, it's been a rough few chapters. We're oh so tantalizingly close to the Institute now. Right?

Chapter 20: Of Mice and Men

Notes:

Hellllooooo! We're back! Apologies for my tardiness, I know I'm a terrible person for being so lax with my schedule, I had to travel to a different state for a job interview and I don't have a laptop (and I'm also too dumb to use the publication date :P). This chapter is one of those moments I've had in mind for a long time, but I didn't want to write it until I felt the story earned it. I'd like to thank VixenRose1996 (go read her work, especially her Fallout/Skyrim X-over) for taking the time to help on this, let me know what you think, reviews are always welcome... and enjoy!

Crouched in the corpse of one of Boston's many destroyed towers, I hadn't felt this mixture of anger and thirst for a fight- no, that wasn't right, the need to kill something in years. Nate was beside me, staring at the half dozen Supermutants gathered near the entrance of another dilapidated building. They were milling across a small rubble littered courtyard ringed by more collapsing structures.

As many times as I told myself this wasn't an emotional decision, it was a lie, and I knew it.

And I didn't give a damn.

I'm going to kill these cannibalistic freaks, and I wasn't going to do it cleanly.

There was one thing that did make its way through the hatred: this group was new, or it was at least new to the area. Brand new. This Back Street Apparel place was north of Diamond City, so Nate had decided it would be safest to take the same path I had three days prior, until we reached the river, then follow it northeast to our target.

These bastards weren't here when I came down. That's a problem; if the Supermutants were moving around the city, and ended up this close to the stadium, that could mean they were trying to take territory. They might even be trying to move on Diamond City.

So I'd be doing the people there a service by killing them.

My companion had no objections. Hell, it almost seemed like if I hadn't told him I was when I first saw them, he would have asked me to.

This time, he wasn't going to sit out of the fight. That decision was more irrational, but as long as he stayed out of the way, it would be okay. The gunfire might draw attention, but sporadic bursts of it didn't seem too uncommon in the city, so as long as we didn't take too long, we'd be fine. Probably.

"On your go", I said.

The ex-soldier nodded and I slipped out of the building. I was careful to keep my titanium boots clear of the rubble strewn across the brick plaza as I skirted to my left, toward the rear of the building and out of my prey's LOS. Was getting up close and personal the best choice? Probably not, but sometimes you have to make an exception.

I cradled my 7.62mm combat rifle. Nate was overwatch and, even if the MacMillan was practically shooting at point blank here, I'd rather have it in action than sitting on my back. He'd never fired it, but if he couldn't make the sniper work across the hundred meters between him and the Supermutants, he wasted almost two decades.

Even so, my companion didn't need to worry about the heavy lifting, I was more than happy to handle that. The first shot was his, that would draw their attention and allow me to close to any distance I wanted. After that, his job was to catch any of the dumb bastards that got involved after the fighting started.

Thirty seconds later, I was at the front edge of the building. The Supermutants were still standing, grouped around the entrance, muttering to each other in an… oddly disjointed conversation. I had no trouble hearing what they said, but none of it made sense.

Despite myself, I held a hand up, directed at the ex-soldier. Hopefully he was watching.

"They don't know- they aren't smart enough", one of them grumbled in that same voice as Virgil, a strange combination of nasally and guttural drawl that just seemed… off.

"That's why we're here", another replied excitedly. "They think they strong. They aren't, not to us."

"This place is ours. Their time is up."

"So many to kill. So many to eat. So weak." A deranged laugh accompanied that last one.

Ah, so that's what they're talking about. They want to attack Diamond City. Were there others? Even if the building was packed full of these assholes, they wouldn't have a fraction of the force they'd need to take the city. And that's if they weren't the most tactically inept things I'd ever seen.

"Quiet", one of them barked. It sounded alarmed. "Smell that?"

The Supermutants fell silent, and a moment later began shuffling around the entrance.

Smell? Could they smell me?

No point in taking the risk.

I motioned toward the group around the corner of the building and a few heartbeats later, a colossal boom sounded through the courtyard. That thing is a lot louder when I'm not the one firing it.

As the report faded, I whipped around the corner to see one of the Supermutants tumble to the ground, a half meter hole in its chest.

The others were just beginning to scramble when I opened fire, sprinting full speed toward them. I caught the first twice and the thing dropped as its head exploded in a plume of red mist and brain.

That left five.

They were all still searching frantically for Nate when another received a trio of rounds to the side of its neck. Most of the thing's head flopped to the side as it fell to the brickwork, and a third joined it an instant later.

And then I was on top of them.

I barreled into the closest one, and a half ton of Mjiolnir sent it careening into another. Bringing my rifle back around, I managed to put one down before one of the two remaining Supermutants turned to me and started spraying with an HK33 so poorly maintained, I'm surprised it functioned.

The rounds careened over me as I dove to the side. The instant I rolled back to my feet, I put a pair of rounds into its shoulder before pivoting to the last standing yellow skinned freak and-

Its head turned into a tapestry on the wall as the MacMillan's report blasted across the courtyard a split second later.

The wounded Supermutants was cradling its ruined arm, whimpering.

So much for being 'strong'.

I just finished off the other I'd knocked to the ground when I heard pounding footsteps coming from the building.

As soon as the door began sliding open, I sighted on the flash of yellow behind it and put a half dozen rounds through the small gap-

Before my rifle ran dry.

GOOD.

I let it fall on its sling as the door opened wide and the body of the mutant I'd killed tumbled out. The second one through took a 12.7mm round to the chest and dropped on top of its comrade. I leaped over the dead bodies, eager to start the fun for real.

Inside were four more Supermutants bastards, all scrambling toward the door despite watching two of their fellow freaks aerated in front of them.

The first one slammed into me as I pushed through the opening. It was large, eye level with me, even in armor. It didn't have the benefits of Mjolnir's weight though.

My momentum won, and the collision sent it careening to the floor. I struggled to regain my balance as a second and third bore down on me. There was just enough time to twist, grabbing the wrist of the Supermutant to my right. I yanked it toward me, and slammed my armored forearm into the bridge of its nose with a wet crunch.

The center of my target's skull collapsed under the force of the blow and it cartwheeled to the ground behind me. It's now dead body barely had time to hit the rubbles strewn floor before the other was reaching for me. I swatted the thing's arms away, sending it stumbling off balance, and swept its legs out from under it.

With the last standing one lunging at me, I sidestepped and, despite my normally efficient use of force… I felt the need to cause these bastards a little more pain.

Or a lot.

As the thing planted to try changing direction, I whipped my left leg out and the tip of my titanium clad boot collided with the side of its knee. The joint exploded outward as the Supermutant collapsed, screaming.

The next one up was the first I'd hit when I came through the door. This one was no smarter than the others. With its comrade on the floor, writhing, it tried to launch a closed fisted punch at my head.

So many options…

I dodged, grabbing its wrist, trapped its elbow against my other forearm, and twisted. The joint hyperextended, then snapped backwards as the ligaments and bones gave way. It screamed and doubled over, but I didn't let go. I pulled up on its mangled arm and drove my knee into its armpit. There was a loud pop as its shoulder was dislodged from its socket. The only thing that kept its arm attached was its deltoid. The blow would probably have torn a regular person's off.

Releasing it, the yellow bastard joined its friend on the ground and I turned to the Supermutant I hadn't injured or killed yet.

It was the first one to show any sign of fear, but I wasn't about to let it take a moment to think. I stepped forward and it tried to swing a clumsy punch at me. The blow looked like it was moving through molasses. I swatted it away and launched an open palmed strike into its chest hard enough to cave its sternum in and sent it careening backward to the floor.

Gunfire exploded to my right and I dove away again as a half dozen rounds ricochet from my shields.

I found my feet and twisted toward-

It was the one who's knee I shattered. The Supermutant was standing on one leg, bracing itself against the wall behind it, doing it's best to aim another unhealthy looking assault rifle at me. The snarl on its face wasn't the pathetic whimper of the one I'd wounded outside, this one's entire demeanor reeked of anger and hatred, despite the crippling injury.

The rifle barked again and spat a burst at me. I ducked under the rounds as they cracked by, legs coiled, and lunged toward the wounded Supermutant. The thing tried to track me, but I was on it before it could draw a bead.

As I drove my shoulder into its chest and pinned it to the wall, I felt ribs shatter, and blood spewed from its mouth.

But it remained on its feet.

The resilient bastard tried to force its weapon around while it was still coughing blood into my visor. I hammered its arm against the wall hard enough to warp the metal plate, and break something in its wrist. The rifle clattered to the ground, it's owner screaming in pain and anger.

That scream was cut short when I brought my right elbow around hard enough to cave in the side of my prey's skull.

Relative silence settled over the crumbling interior and, for the first time, I realized I must have been standing in an apartment or hotel. The dead Supermutants were scattered around what looked like a small lobby with a desk, or what was left of a desk, at the back, with rows of numbered doors lining the halls that ran behind it on either side.

My eyes fell on the last living Supermutant who was still on the ground, barely moving. That much trauma, it was probably in shock.

I hated these things. I hated them in a way I don't think I'm fully equipped to understand. My mind drew me back to the images of the West Everett Estates, the piles of dead, the larger piles of bones picked clean. The house I found the kids in. And then the sights, sounds, and smells of the Covenant attack.

These things don't deserve mercy. They deserve to suffer, the same way the Covenant bastards who the UNSC was cooperating with do.

But it isn't my job to make things suffer. I've already used a little more… liberty fighting these than I'd normally allow myself. It's time to end it and move on.

Swapping a fresh magazine into my rifle, I stalked over to the prone form and, as it looked up at me, confused, I put a 7.62mm bullet through its head. The report faded into silence once again, but I felt nothing.

Despite my hatred, despite this only being the second time I'd fought Supermutants since rescuing Cassandra, Julian, and Thomas, I felt nothing. Like Nate had said about Kellogg: they were just more bodies on the pile.

And not only was that disappointing, but, for the first time, concerning. Had I really fought and killed so much, I couldn't find any satisfaction in taking some, small form of retribution against things I hated like them?

No time to worry about that now.

Right.

There was one left alive, and while it wasn't necessarily my mission, or my problem, I still needed to know if Supermutants were going to pose a threat to the area. That could make things even more complicated, and more complications were the last thing I wanted. More variables, especially ones as unpredictable as these freaks, would make my life substantially more difficult.

I stalked out of the ruined building to see the last Supermutant still on the ground, surrounded by rubble and it's dead comrades, cradling it's ruined arm. The fury hadn't faded, but my mind pushed it away; I have something else I need to focus on.

Performing an interrogation in the open isn't smart. I waved toward Nate's position and began scanning the surrounding buildings as he extricated himself from the half collapsed tower I left him in. The only sign of any other inhabitants was the low groan emanating from the crippled thing laying at my feet.

When the ex-soldier reached the building's entrance, I nodded toward the door. "Inside's clear."

He nodded wordlessly before picking his way through the dead Supermutants, and over the bodies blocking the entrance. The smaller man seemed off, blank stare, his movements too robotic like he was operating on autopilot. I'd seen that before.

Later. Right now, I need to worry about getting this over with so I can get back on mission.

After one more scan of the area, I grabbed the last surviving member of this motley group by the breastplate of its cobbled together armor and dragged it inside.

Nate was standing in the center of the lobby, staring at the Supermutant whose arm and leg I'd mangled before crushing its head.

His eyes snapped to me as I pulled my still groaning catch through the door.

"Garth is gonna get you", the Supermutant muttered.

I dragged the thing over to the half collapsed receptionist desk and propped it up against the splintering wood.

"That guy", I asked, pointing to the same corpse Nate had been gaping at.

A moment passed before recognition took hold and I watched the Supermutant's eyes shot open. That guess was right.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU-"

Before it could get any more out, my arm whipped forward and I slammed my fist into its Solar Plexus. The thing heaved as its diaphragm contracted into an intense spasm and it struggled for breath.

Several minutes passed in relative silence before the thing got enough air back in its lungs to speak.

"You are going to pay. All humans are going to pay!"

This thing seemed willing to talk, might as well let him.

"How?"

"The Supermutants are the future, humans are weak, humans are stupid."

Uh huh.

"Which is why your friends are dead."

"More are coming. Puny humans can't win."

"When?"

"You think I tell you, stupid human?"

I clamped one gauntleted hand over the Supermutant's mouth, and another around its injured shoulder.

"I do", I said as it tried to scream through my hand.

Releasing the bastard's shoulder, it was several moments before the wail died down far enough for me to drop my other hand.

"When are more coming?"

"Later", the thing panted. "And when they do, I tear you apart and feast on your bones."

I felt my body coil, almost involuntarily.

You'll feast on me? Eat me? Like the Covenant? Like your friends did to the kids' parents?

"You son of a bitch."

The venom in Nate's voice shot through the quiet, corpse filled lobby like an explosion. There was something underneath the anger I hadn't heard from him before, a sort of manic urgency I recognized, but couldn't place.

"Eat people. You motherfuckers eat people."

"The Supermutants are the future."

My ass. If Supermutants are the future, this version of Earth is truly screwed.

"You don't get it, do you? The people you kill and- and eat- they're-" The ex-soldier's voice broke, anguish twisting his expression into a pained grimace. His shoulders were shaking and sweat poured down his face. The smaller man was tense, weight shifted forward like he was ready to pounce on the Supermutant.

Concern overrode my own anger as I watched. There was something else going on.

"Stay there", I said, holding out a hand. "Relax."

"Relax? You're telling me to relax? I-"

"Yes", I barked, "I'm telling you to relax."

Not only was he interrupting an interrogation, again, but Nate was damn near frenzied, and that only put him in more danger.

"Arguing with this asshole won't get you anywhere. Let me do my job."

The smaller man stared at me, wide eyed, visibly struggling with something. Eventually, his shaking shoulders calmed to a tremble, and his breath slowed from its frantic pace. Nate's smart enough to-

A sudden rustling came from my captive and my head snapped around to see the Supermutant swinging its one good arm at me. I caught its wrist and twisted, hard. Instead of the crunch from the joint I'd been expecting, the thing roared in pain and tried to pull its arm from my grasp. I slammed my free arm down on its elbow and, like its now dead comrade, the joint buckled in the wrong direction.

Its keening continued for several long moments, plenty of time for me to berate myself. Never turn your back on a hostile, especially if they're wounded.

"Where are your friends, and when are they coming", I asked as it's wail finally subsided.

"Won't tell you", it weeped, "won't help puny huma-"

I drew my knife and jammed it into the thing's wounded shoulder. This time, the scream that exploded from the bastard was almost cathartic. I waited, crouched in front of my prey, knife buried in its shoulder, feeling the satisfaction I had missed from killing its friends. Maybe that said something about me, but in that moment, I didn't care.

This time, the pause was shorter.

"We aren't so puny if the 13 of you couldn't kill 2 humans. Now", I ripped the knife from it's arm, severing most the ligaments between it and the Supermutant's chest. I waited again for its screaming to die down before continuing. "When are they coming? How many are there?"

"Don't know", it panted, eyes a mixture of pain and hatred, "wouldn't tell."

I brandished the knife between us. "Try again." The thing winced, but it kept quiet.

As I pulled the knife back to plunge it into my target's other shoulder, motion in the corner of my vision caught my attention.

Nate was-

Oh shit.

I reeled backwards as the massive sniper rifle boomed in the enclosed space and blew the Supermutant's head all over the splintered wood behind, and my helmet.

"What the fuck are you thinking", I shouted, wiping a gauntleted hand across my visor. The smaller man remained motionless, rifle's smoking muzzle pointed at where my captive's head had been. The bastard had just fired off a 12.7mm round at point blank, my head a few centimeters from the bullet's path. Armor be damned, that's dangerous, and I wasn't done with the thing.

"Nate!"

The ex-soldier's head snapped to me, eyes wide. He lowered the rifle as I stalked toward him, glaring down at the smaller man the entire way.

"Why. Did. You. Shoot. Him?"

An answer didn't come immediately. Instead, my companion's mouth drifted open and closed several times as I stopped in front of him. His shoulders were shaking again, and the sweat was beginning to soak his shirt.

"I… I just couldn't watch… I couldn't watch anymore. Those screams- that bastard deserved to die. I-" he trailed off and looked at the ground. Something was definitely wrong here. My anger and frustration didn't abate, but my concern surged back to the forefront.

"What's going on?"

The ex-soldier let out a shaky breath. "I don't know- I'm-" he shook his head, looking at the Supermutant, then me. "I can't think, I can't breathe, my body won't listen to me- I don't know why I did that." He looked back at the ground.

His hands were trembling so bad, it was a shock he was able to steady the rifle well enough to shoot.

I grabbed the weapon and slowly pulled it away from the smaller man. He let it slip from his grasp and, after another pause, slid to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

"What's going on? What's happening to me?" Nate's voice was trembling almost as much as the rest of him. He sounded terrified.

Involuntary, manic responses to high stress situations. PTSD?

"Panic attack."

The ex-soldier was beginning to hyperventilate.

"A- A panic… attack?"

What had I been told? It's been a while, but I remember the shrinks ONI stuck me with helping me through these. What had they told me to do?

I took a step back and knelt.

"Yes, you're having a panic attack. Slow, deep breaths. Every time you exhale, try to relax. Focus on something specific you can use to anchor yourself. You're safe."

Part of my mind told me we needed to get moving, but Nate was in no condition to go anywhere, and he'd be a massive liability in a fight. He needed to calm down, or it would be too dangerous to bring him.

"Why- am I having- a panic attack?"

"Not important. Think about something else." What could he think about? His son was kidnapped, wife was dead, and he was stuck in a world 200 years, and an apocalypse, distant of his own. "Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian need our help. You can't do that like this."

The smaller man gulped down a massive breath and did his best to exhale slowly, but it still came out in spurts.

"I- I don't understand." The tremble in his voice made it almost as difficult to understand him as it was for him to talk. "This has-"

"You don't need to. It's happening. Stop talking and breathe."

He pulled his head from hands trembling so badly they were almost blurred. The ex-soldier met my gaze, eyes wide enough to pop out of his head. That's something I know.

"Deep breaths."

Nate struggled down a swallow before inhaling another shaky breath, held it for a moment, and let it go. It was still rough, but he wasn't quite hyperventilating.

Several minutes passed, long enough for me to take a look outside, before Nate began to calm down. As his breathing returned to normal, and he stopped shaking uncontrollably, I could almost feel his muscles unwind. Continuing on with him was a bad idea. If that happened again, in the middle of a fight, things could go very, very wrong.

"We need to head back."

"No", Nate said, still swallowing deep lungfuls of air, "you aren't leaving me behind on this one."

"You're no use dead."

"And you're no use in a negotiation."

I cocked my head. "And you will be? They're Raiders."

The ex-soldier snorted. "I'll have a better chance than you."

I didn't reply immediately. Sometimes it was hard to tell with the smaller man, was this his ego talking, or was he genuinely concerned about the mission?

"This is about getting the job done, not how it gets done."

"You're right, and I give us the best chance of doing it. You think this guy's gonna be cooperative after you slaughter all his friends? And don't suggest trying your other 'methods'." He motioned to the dead Supermutant slumped to the ground. "I doubt Deacon would be happy if you torture him."

It wasn't a bad point, but it still sat wrong with me. This isn't about my methods, it's about his safety.

Would he be safer in Diamond City? The Brotherhood is going to find out about us at some point. Besides, he trusted me to handle my baggage, the least I can offer is the same.

This is different. This is the first time he's suffered an attack, he doesn't know how to handle it.

He's still right: my conversations with the Raiders would probably be limited to gunfire. Nate's the best option to get this done. It's what he wants to do.

At the end of the day, I could force him to go back to Diamond City, but that would probably be a mistake long term. The ex-soldier has become more agreeable, but he's still a stubborn bastard. That's something he'd hold against me for a long time.

"Another flair up could get you killed."

To his credit, Nate looked worried. He clearly didn't know what had happened, or what might trigger it again.

But he's a stubborn bastard.

"This gets me closer to Shaun. This gets us closer to taking those kids to Sanctuary. I'm doing it."

That wasn't a surprise.

I checked our exit while the smaller man climbed to his feet.

The sun had cleared the city's destroyed skyline, casting the courtyard in its early morning glow. Something told me this was going to be a very, very long day.

X

I couldn't decide if the relatively quiet trek through the city after our run in with the Supermutants was fortunate, or unfortunate. It gave Nate a chance to calm down, but it also gave him too much time to think. Think about what had caused the panic attack, what it meant, and when (if) it would happen again. That conundrum was one thing I could remember from early on in my training. The worst one was when we were in a class session for tactics and in-op response. I wasn't the only III who suffered from them, unsurprisingly, but that's hardly a comfort when it feels like your brain is going to tear itself into a thousand pieces, your lungs are trying to jump out of your mouth, and your heart is beating its way out of your chest.

For me, the worst part was the lack of control. Even that early, I knew what was happening, but there was nothing I could do about it.

It was the first time I'd seen footage of Covenant fighting. Looking back on it now, it was mission footage from an older generation SPARTAN III. They were engaged in a massive gunfight with a large Covie force. Accompanying the footage was an overhead projection of battlefield telemetry, showing the real time positions of the units on either side.

And they were losing.

The instructor's robotic narration of the frenetic firefight wasn't far off of my own internal analysis at the time. The SPARTANs were fighting on what looked like an asteroid, remains of Covenant structures littering the barren, rock and ice filled landscape around them. They had no air or fire support. The attacking aliens had that in spades.

Every few moments, the instructor would pause the footage, and point out the progression of the company's methodical collapse. First to go was their perimeter cohesion as the Covenant firemissions began scoring hits, opening up airspace for their Banshees and Seraphs to make strafing runs. The SPARTANs did well recovering at first; bombardment doesn't generally score kills on well entrenched positions, but as their anti-air resources dwindled, whoever was in charge panicked, and the rest followed.

From there, inter-squad coordination collapsed, and it turned into a frantic fight for survival. The Covenant ground forces began closing in, armor leading infantry units toward the quickly crumbling SPARTAN defensive and then-

Then I lost it.

Seeing Jackals, Kig-Yar, with their energy shields push forward as the armor neared the SPARTAN line- by that point I'd blocked out the images of the attack, but my body never forgot. It hit the six year old me like a destroyer, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, terrified, fighting to breathe, fighting to think. In that moment, I was just as terrified and helpless as I had been when those Jackal bastards tore my mother apart in front of me.

I glanced at the ex-soldier walking beside me.

As the years passed, I learned to control it (clearly not as well as I thought), but it wasn't until I began remembering what happened that I started to feel like I wasn't just suppressing it, I was confronting those all encompassing attacks. Like I was doing something about it.

It wasn't easy, or enjoyable, but now I could see it was necessary. ONI never helped me with that. I didn't blame them at the time, but I was beginning to. Maybe it was mostly because I was still alive when no one expected me to be, but it might not be so bad now if they hadn't helped me shove it into a deep, dark corner for so long. Fourier tried. Thinking about it now, he really did. He, Amanda, and Liam all did everything they could to help pull me out, and who knows, they could be part of the reason I was beginning to do it now.

What could I do for Nate though?

Nothing right now. He'll ask when he's ready.

Was that the truth? Could I really do nothing for him now?

Did any of it help me until recently? This is new for him.

The smaller man's eyes were roaming the surrounding half crumbled towers, broken streets, and piles of rubble with an intensity I'd rarely seen from him. He was doing everything he could to distract himself.

Leave it alone.

So I returned to my own scans as we continued on in silence.

It was 20 minutes later when Nate finally spoke.

"We're close", he said as he slowed to a stop. The smaller man's voice was low and monotonous, but he couldn't hide the quiet tremble.

We were making our way down a street separated from the river by a low line of buildings that were in worse shape than most others. The wooden and concrete structures had been much more exposed to the constant eroding wind blowing across the water. Most, if they weren't completely collapsed, were missing large sections of their structures: walls, roofs, entire floors collapsing.

The ex-soldier nodded down the pockmarked and rubble filled avenue. "It's three blocks ahead, south side of the street." He took a deep breath. "How do you want to handle this?"

If the goal was to avoid a gunfight (something I wasn't sure I was inclined to do since these were Raiders we're dealing with), giving them some distance and staying concealed when we made contact was the best option. There was always the non-lethal stealth option, but that would require more scouting than we had time for, and more information than we had.

And frankly, if I'm going to engage Raiders, non-lethal wasn't the first option on my list.

"Stay on the riverbank. Make contact from an adjacent building."

My companion nodded absently and we made our way across the street between two mounds of rubble that, at one point, had been buildings, and along the beach side toward our objective. It wasn't more than another 50 meters when I heard muffled conversation drifting from ahead. No doubt the group of Raiders.

I didn't like this: going into a situation with very little information, and an unclear goal. Sure, the idea is to talk with them, but these are Raiders. I'd found enough drugs on the one's I'd killed in Concord and Sanctuary to know these ones were probably inebriated. That's to say nothing of their, likely, already volatile nature.

"I need a few minutes for recon."

Nate shot a glance at me, more afraid than annoyed. "We're here to talk."

"Unless they're hostile."

He was silent for a moment, eyes locked straight ahead of us.

"I don't think fighting is a good idea."

"You don't have to, that's my job."

The smaller man looked at me again, muscles in his neck strained, jaw clamped tight, eyes wide. He looked genuinely scared, an expression I haven't seen on him since he exited the Vault. Nate was doing his best to hold it together, but I could almost see the mess of questions play across his face.

"I'd rather be prepared. These are Raiders."

Nate came to a stop and took a deep breath. "Fine, it will give me a few minutes to think." He left out the 'alone' at the end of the sentence.

So I left him in one of the more stable (or I guess less collapsed would be better) structures, and went ahead to check in on our targets.

As it turns out, Burner's crew was small, even by this world's standards. There were 10 of them split between patrols around the small store's exterior, and idling inside. Their hideout itself was a wide three story building that looked like it had mediocre repairs attempted to its crumbling walls and roof. Several had been reinforced with what looked like plates made more out of rust than steel, raised platforms around the building to act as firing positions, and a wide, chest high wall lining the front. It was an easily defensible position, and the Raiders looked dug in. It was a surprise considering what I'm used to from these brain fried drug addicts.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much cover on the north side of the street, bordering the river. Aside from the embankment itself, there was nothing directly across the street from the store, for 30 meters in either direction. With the rear of the store set against another, larger building, there would be no sneaking up on this group. On the other hand, there were no signs of any buried mines, IEDs, or any other sorts of traps along the shore, so that was at least some good news.

My mind scrambled to form a plan as I slipped back toward the waiting ex-soldier. Announcing my presence to a potential enemy without having established any sort of leverage was outside my SOP. Hell, making contact with a potential enemy is, but as usual this goddamn world is going to make things difficult.

Much to my irritation, Nate was right. We need Deacon and the Railroad. Burner and his crew turn up dead, that's going to look bad.

Nate was in the same spot I'd left him: sitting against a wall inside what had been a two story building, staring at the hole I entered through. The smaller man's eyes followed me as I approached. He still looked shell shocked.

"Stay on my left hip. Once we're across from the store, stay on the wall. Don't expose yourself."

He nodded and climbed back to unsteady feet. "And you're going to find a good position in case things get messy."

It was my turn to nod.

"Right."

A few minutes later, my partner was standing below the embankment, directly north of the store, and I was another 50 meters down river, where I found a break in the wall that afforded me a clean shot into the front of the building. It put a little more distance between Nate and I than I would have liked, but so long as he kept his head down, he'd be fine.

The ex-soldier looked at me, and I waved for him to proceed.

"Good morning", the smaller man shouted, trying to regain some of his normal, annoying cheeriness. "I'm looking for someone named Burner."

A flurry of activity followed as the Raiders hurried to firing positions. I trained my rifle on a woman crouched on the roof with a bolt action sniper. My finger was resting on the trigger and it took every ounce of discipline to keep from squeezing. These assholes are Raiders; they live off of attacking others, like the group in Sanctuary. Again, I'm no moral paragon, but there are still lines I don't cross.

After 20 seconds of commotion, one of the Raiders finally deemed it necessary to reply.

"And who sent you with your own death warrant?"

Death warrant… how corny can these people be?

"Deacon."

A moment of quiet trailed Nate's response. I guess that was promising.

"Who told you that name", someone else said from inside the storefront.

"He did. He asked me to come find you about… well something to do with everyone's favorite boogeyman, and a friendly meeting a little while ago."

More silence. And this would probably be the part the shooting would start.

"What does he look like?"

Or not.

"Average height, tanned, always wears sunglasses."

"And what did he tell you about me?"

Nate hesitated. "You want me to say it like this?"

"It seems like everyone else knows."

My partner shrugged absently before continuing. "You're a Synth, you were being followed by a Courser, you met with another Synth and the two of you killed it. He's talking with the other, a Gunner captain; he wants to know if they have a leak."

"And how did he know what happened?"

"He found the Courser and a holotape he had on him."

"That's all shit the Institute could know."

"You're right", he said eventually. "They could, but the information I'm asking for wouldn't help them. I just want to know if the Railroad has a leak, where it is, and if other Synths have been compromised. If I was with the Institute, I wouldn't need you to tell me any of that."

"Only if the Institute found the Courser before Deacon did. If they just knew the bastard was chasing us, but didn't get to it before the Railroad, they'd need to get that information from somewhere."

For a Raider, this guy had his head screwed on straight.

The ex-soldier didn't answer. When I glanced his way, Nate looked frustrated. He certainly wasn't as sharp as normal, which was predictable. I'm not sure why he expected anything different.

"You're right. I don't have any way of proving I am who I say I am, but do you think the Institute would be sitting back talking with you when you killed one of their Coursers?"

Nate's sudden shift was desperate, even I could pick up on that. We weren't going to get anywhere with this.

There was another short pause, but this one felt different. I'd adjusted my grip on the rifle, sights still locked on the group's overwatch. If things went sideways, she would be the biggest threat.

"I don't know anything, now you got 20 seconds to get the hell out of here before we start shooting." Burner, if that's who this is, sounded frustrated. He hadn't been the first to respond to Nate, so he probably isn't this group's leader. Was whoever was in charge telling him this conversation was over?

"Wait, hold on", my partner said, hurriedly, "I ju-"

"I know what you want, and you're lucky I'm giving you this long."

I met the ex-soldier's gaze and waved him over. Dismissals didn't get much clearer than that, the question now was how do I proceed. Incomplete operations weren't something I made a habit of.

"Keep going", I whispered as the smaller man reached me.

He shook his head. "You aren't engaging them. We contact Deacon and tell him what happened. He may have another suggestion."

"And if he decides we're trying to screw him?" It was a very real possibility; unless we make this work, our next best lead is the Brotherhood, and the thought of working with them any longer than I had to was almost sickening at this point.

"He's just as likely to think we're lying about getting whatever information we wanted from Burner." Nate's voice was steadier and more confident than it had been 10 minutes ago. "We know he knows something. That should be enough for Deacon to figure out what he wants to do next."

I stopped myself from asking why he was protecting Raiders. The answer he'd give was the same one he already had: Deacon wouldn't be happy if I attacked them. The real answer was he was afraid another gunfight might trigger an episode. The thought to send him somewhere else crossed my mind again, but that wouldn't work either. Not only that, but the ex-soldier would be just as upset I'd done that as he thinks Deacon would be. Pissing him off wasn't a concern, at least not the act itself, but he'd make my life even more difficult if I did. Besides, forcing him to do something he very much didn't want to would be… a little more callous than I'd be comfortable with.

Damn bleeding heart.

"Fine."

My partner's eyes widened a fraction but he nodded after an instant's pause.

Leaving the objective unfinished was almost as aggravating as the alternative, but Nate was right about one thing: Burner knows something. Bringing Deacon along might help get that information out of him.

But still, leaving my operation incomplete, failing is something I don't do. I seem to be doing a lot of things I wouldn't normally do since coming here.

X

As we returned to Diamond City, irritation still simmered at the back of my head. There was nothing I could do though, or rather, there was something I could do, but it wasn't an option I was comfortable taking. Sometimes I wished this was a year ago, when I wouldn't have thought once about using whatever means necessary to complete my objective.

Nate was quiet on the way back. This time it wasn't his normal, deceptive attentiveness; he was distracted, his eyes scanning the surrounding cityscape without taking anything in. They were going through the motions, but no one was home to receive the information.

A nagging desire began creeping in to say something, do something, but what could I do? My own memories were still tormenting me at every opportunity, I was only just beginning to figure out what to do with them.

"I think it was the ride back", he finally said as we reached the stadium's main entrance, guards giving me their customary suspicious glances.

I cocked my head and came to a stop beside the smaller man.

"The ride back after the ambush."

The ambush? He was talking about the ambush that wiped out another platoon. He said they'd abandoned them to die.

"We double timed back to exfil. I could hear each gunshot the entire way through that goddamn city. When my platoon got back and mounted up, we came under fire, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I sat there with my hands under my ass while we ran away after leaving our brothers and sisters to die."

Nate looked up at me with the same searching expression he'd worn when he first told me.

"It felt like every round that hit my APC was gonna punch through and kill me. I- I don't think I'd ever been that scared before. I was scared, sitting behind three inches of armor, while another platoon was massacred." His eyes dropped to the ground and he heaved a sigh. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Fear? That's something I'm well acquainted with.

"Fear is irrational."

He squinted at me.

"So? I already know that."

"You can't justify being scared. It happens."

"And how does that-" Nate shouted before cutting himself off. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before continuing. It didn't work entirely. "How does that excuse what I did and how I felt?"

"You followed orders."

The ex-soldier scoffed. "And that's supposed to make me feel better? I left those people behind. I decided to go along with that order. 'Just following orders.' What, is that how you justify all the shit you do?"

That piqued my irritation. Again. How I justify what I do? Have I ever suggested I need to justify what I do?

"This isn't about me", I growled.

"Oh it isn't? Sure seems like you enjoy making all the decisions and I have to play along. Now when something you don't like comes up, suddenly it isn't about you?"

The logical side of my brain was telling me Nate was upset, that he knew I compromised with him, and was just looking for something to lash out at. A much larger, now aggravated part of my brain was saying I don't give a damn.

"Would you prefer I leave?"

He let out a short, mocking laugh. "Of course that's your solution. You need me at this point, don't pretend you get anywhere near here without me. You'd probably be wandering around the city trying to find some lead on the Institute without me."

That same, small logical voice in the back of my mind pointed out that was true, and that irritated me even more.

"And you die before you make it to Diamond City."

"I never threatened to leave."

"Not the point."

"Isn't it? You're trying to give me advice now, the guy who lost it and almost killed our best chance to get to the Institute."

This is pointless. The rational part of me grew tired of the back and forth. It wasn't helpful.

I nodded at the entrance. "Go."

"No, we're not-"

"Yes", I barked, "we are. We need to contact Deacon, and standing here arguing isn't going to help."

The smaller man started, but he didn't recoil. Instead he glared at me for a moment before turning with a muttered "jackass".

So much for trying to help.

I followed him into the stadium's long entrance corridor. The men sitting behind their machine gun emplacement cast the same type of wary glances the others had at me. The looks themselves were normal, they did it every time I came through. I hadn't noticed with the guards out front, but these ones felt… different.

Each guard's eyes lingered on me a few beats longer than usual, eyes narrowed and bodies coiled tight. They looked like they were ready for a fight.

The guards kept their eyes to the front as we walked past, but it hadn't been my imagination.

My head was screaming at me; something's wrong here. The glances shouldn't have been enough to set alarm bells ringing, but why were they so suspicious? Or I guess why were they more suspicious than normal? Was it the now dried spatter of blood across my helmet and chest? Probably not, not in a hall this dark. No one who knows enough about me to tell them anything is in the area.

What would they be nervous about? Threats to the city, and the Institute most likely. To them those were the same thing.

I looked around the dark passage, wary of… I'm not sure what. Ambush?

Did they know I was working with the Railroad? The men who tried to rob Nate and Deacon might have reported something, but how would they know who Deacon was? As far as they were probably concerned, they ran into the wrong mark.

Brotherhood?

It was possible they could know about the Railroad, probable even, but would they know Deacon was a member? Had they found out we planned to double cross them?

Thoughts raced through my head as it tried to figure out what was going on. Whatever it was, I was on full alert now. Something had me on edge, and instincts are always something to listen to.

I unslung the MacMillian and checked the chamber. The air in the tunnel was thick and tense. My body was coiled tight, convinced something was about to happen.

Nate was still trudging along in front of me, oblivious to the imminent danger my mind was sure we were in.

Was he still distracted?

As we neared the exit, the patter of boots on concrete from behind us caught my attention, and I glanced back toward the-

The guards were hauling ass down the passage and I watched as the first ducked into one of the several adjoining corridors.

What the- oh shit.

I wheeled back toward the front, pulling the sniper rifle up to my shoulder along the way.

And stepping into the entrance was a trio of soldiers clad in T-60 power armor.

Each was carrying a minigun, all three were already spinning up.

Nate me froze as I sighted on the leftmost Brotherhood soldier and squeezed the trigger. It's muzzle flash was almost blinding and I felt the brake's concussion through my armor in the enclosed space.

My shot crashed into the soldier's helmet, directly between their eyes. Whoever was in the powered suit crumpled like a ragdoll.

Before the body had a chance to hit the deck, my legs drove into the ground with all the urgency they could muster. I grabbed the smaller by the back of his jacket and half carried him, sprinting for another intersection a dozen meters ahead of us. I didn't make it more than two strides when the miniguns began spewing rounds toward us.

I was only a second away from cover, but those weapons could fill the air with a hundred projectiles in that time. I might survive that type of barrage, but my partner would be torn to shreds.

With only one option to keep us both alive (potentially), I drove off my left leg and jumped to the opposite side of the passage, hauling Nate with me. The initial burst of minigun-fire screamed through the air we'd just vacated, but it was only an instant before it adjusted to our new position.

As soon as my right boot contacted the concrete, my leg wound tight and propelled us back across the corridor.

This time we weren't lucky enough to avoid the barrage.

I twisted so my back was facing the oncoming projectiles and pulled the ex-soldier to my chest.

In the split second it took to cross the remaining distance, what must have been several dozen rounds crashed into me. My shields only lasted an instant before collapsing under the onslaught, and the titanium plate over my right shoulder and the armor covering my back began taking impacts.

I felt one catch the soft armor just behind my pauldron. It was like someone hit my shoulder with a sledgehammer, but the round didn't penetrate.

Before any more could hit, we careened into the adjoining passage and I came down on that same, burning shoulder. Momentum carried me into the wall with a hard thud that was only going to add to the aching pain I'd feel after the adrenaline pouring into my bloodstream wore off.

If I survived the next five minutes.

Releasing the ex-soldier, I stood and chambered another round. Now wasn't the time for hoping, the only way we were getting out of this was to kill them before they kill us. It isn't the first ambush I've been in, not by a long shot. These assholes weren't going to succeed where countless Innies and Covenant have failed.

Bullets continued to pepper the corner for another second before the gunfire came to an abrupt halt.

I glanced down at Nate who still hadn't stood. He was grasping his left leg.

There was blood on the ground beneath him.

Shit.

I risked a quick peek into the hall and had just enough time to confirm the soldiers were holding position before the miniguns began spitting rounds at me again. They screamed through the air my head occupied an instant before.

"Where are you hit", I shouted over the gunfire.

He didn't say anything, instead struggling to point to his calf, face twisted in a silent grimace.

"Can you treat it?"

The smaller man answered by shoving himself excruciatingly into a sitting position, propped himself up against the wall, and pulled his satchel in front of him.

Good, he probably wouldn't be much use in this fight, but at least I didn't need to worry about him bleeding out.

Stimpaks.

I tensed as the gunfire trickled to a halt again and my shields whined as they recharged. Right, the magic injections that somehow rapidly repaired wounds.

Why they weren't maintaining staggered gunfire to keep us pinned was beyond me; no doubt they'd have support, and the longer they kept us here, the worse our odds would be. Conserving ammo shouldn't have been a consideration.

Well-trained amateurs.

At least one of them was about to pay for that oversight.

Turning toward the wall, I took a deep breath and held for a split second. Time slowed to a crawl as I slipped around the corner, rifle already jammed into my shoulder. The scope was too powerful for an engagement this close, but that hardly mattered here. At this range, it was point and shoot.

As soon as I had the center Brotherhood soldier's helmet in scope, I sent another massive projectile on its way. I didn't wait to confirm the impact, instead twisting to bring our second attacker into sight and chambering another round.

My second target began firing as I closed the bolt and my hand wrapped around the pistol grip again. The first round hit me in the chest, but my shields dissipated the impact just enough to keep my rifle trained on the bastard's head. Between the second round sailing over my left shoulder, and the third impacting my left leg, I squeezed the trigger and put a 12.7mm hole in the lense over the soldier's right eye.

A half dozen more bullets hit me before the Brotherhood soldier realized they were dead and dropped to join their friends.

We need to move NOW.

If the Brotherhood had heavy ordinance in the city, they must have cut a deal-

Later. MOVE.

I ducked back around the corner to check on Nate. He was wrapping a strip of gauze around his bloody calf, discarded MedX and Stimpak syringes on the ground in front of him.

"We need to move."

The ex-soldier nodded and motioned for me to help him up. I hoisted him to his feet, the smaller man keeping weight off of his left leg. He wouldn't be able to walk on that, at least not immediately. We couldn't stay in this hall, it was the perfect kill box. The only mistake the Brotherhood made was not bringing something bigger. Put an RPG with those miniguns, and at the very least Nate would be dead by now.

"Damon", Nate said, voice barely above a whisper. I glanced back at the smaller man and his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. "The kids."

Shit. He was right. How had I not thought about them? This isn't just about us surviving, we have Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian to worry about. Have they been taken? How can I get to them and keep Nate alive if they haven't been already? These fundamentalist bastards weren't just trying to kill me, they're taking the three of them. The Brotherhood are taking the only three people I've ever sworn I'd keep safe. They're taking a group of kids who've already been through hell.

Anger surged to the front of my head like a torrent of flame and fury. I was pissed.

But something stopped it.

Before I lost my composure, my mind shoved itself back into the zone I'd known for so long. Getting angry won't help them. Doing what I do best will. The Brotherhood wants to accelerate the timeline, that's fine by me. That's less time I'll have to chafe under the pretense of cooperation.

My partner must have taken my hesitation as a disagreement. He shoved himself away and caught the wall for support. "We aren't leaving them. I'm not letting them down too."

"I know."

The Brotherhood knows we would try to protect them. If they're smart, they'll have forces held in reserve covering both exits to this tunnel. Trying to leave would be the next best thing to putting a gun to my own head. So we need another way out.

One thing working in our favor is, with the loss of their initial fireteam, they should be hesitant to send anyone else in.

If by some miracle they hadn't extracted the kids in the five hours we've been gone, they'd be double timing it now. At best we have a few minutes before they're out of reach.

"Stay here", I said, handing Nate the MacMillian and a spare magazine. His eyes were still wide, but the ex-soldier's hands were steady. At least he hasn't slipped back into another panic attack; the pain might have something to do with that.

He looked at me, confused, as he took the weapon. "What?"

"I'm going to find another exit."

Without waiting for his response, I checked both directions before slipping into the hall and skirting down toward the passage those guards were taking cover in. If they're smart, they'll have an alternate exit, and if they're clever, they wouldn't have told the Brotherhood about it.

The cacophony of shallow, nervous breathing confirmed they were still there. These assholes sold us out without knowing who we are, or what we're doing. They probably only needed to be told we were trying to get to the Institute, and they were all hands on deck to ambush us. Maybe I'm not one to talk, but that kind of animosity really pisses me off.

Is that any different than me hating the Covenant?

That was one easy: absolutely. I've never attacked Diamond City.

If they think the Institute has…

That still doesn't excuse this.

Really? How do you know that? They could have the Institute in the same way I hate the Covenant.

How would-

I put a clamp on my anger as I reached the adjoining corridor. The last thing I needed now was Diamond City's guard coming after me. Killing these people won't get me anywhere. I need them if I'm going to get Nate out alive.

"Put your weapons down", I said as I stopped at the corner.

"Who are you?" came a tentative response.

"The guy you just tried to kill."

"Like hell we're dropping our guns!"

"If three soldiers with power armor and miniguns couldn't kill me, do you think you're going to? You have five seconds."

"You come around that corner", the person shouted back, shrill edge betraying their dread, "we're going to blow you away."

"Three seconds." My hands tightened around the combat rifle. There were four of them. Two had HK-33s, one had a rifle similar to mine, I didn't see what the guard on the emplacement had been carrying.

"No- no, I'm not doing this." This was a new voice. "To hell with those Brotherhood bastards, they're no better than the Institute. Don't shoot."

I heard something clatter to the ground, followed by another.

"You cow-"

"Shut it Johnson. I'm not getting caught up in their fight."

Two weapons at most? Those are odds I'm comfortable with.

I rounded the corner, rifle up and trained on the closest person, probably Johnson, who was still aiming a 10mm handgun at me. All four guards dressed in their odd body armor were staring up at me, wide eyed.

"Put your weapon down."

The guard hesitated, fear twisting his face into a grimace.

"Johnson", the man standing to his right said, "put your goddamn gun down."

My target waited another heartbeat before letting the handgun drop.

The guard who had spoken took a tentative step forward. "What do you want?"

"Alternate exit."

"You- what?"

My internal clock was already screaming. There was no time for a back and forth about 15 minutes ago. I shifted my aim to him. "I ask, you answer. Understood?"

His eyes shifted from me to the rifle's muzzle and swallowed hard. "Got it."

"Is there an alternate exit?"

"Ye- yeah. We-"

Johnson scoffed. "They'r-"

"The next person who says something that isn't an answer to my question gets shot", I barked. All four men recoiled. "Exit."

"We- we have an escape route", the man who seemed to have the most sense spat out so quickly I barely understood. He pointed back down the passage, toward the stadium's interior. "In the next hall."

"Show me." I motioned with my rifle. "I hear anyone following, you all die."

My target swallowed again, but nodded.

I stepped back to allow him to pass, eyeing the other three. My gaze lingered on Johnson. He was tall, maybe only 7 or 8 centimeters shorter than me, well built, and looked almost as angry as he did scared at this point. Hopefully he didn't test whether I'd follow through on that threat, it would make finding this exit take longer, and that's not something I needed.

The guard led me back to the corridor Nate and I had taken cover in. When we returned, the ex-soldier was leaning against the wall opposite the interior exit, rifle aimed down the hall. He was playing it safe, keeping himself out of the exit's line of sight. He glanced at the guard and I as we entered the passage, but remained silent.

Our newest, temporary addition continued past my partner and toward the pile of rubble blocking the tunnel. He knelt in front of a large, flat piece of debris and tried to shift it. The thing had to weigh 200 kilos.

"Can I get a hand?"

With one more check to make sure we weren't being followed, I stalked toward the man and motioned for him to step aside. Right hand still wrapped firmly around my rifle's grip, I dug my left under the meter square piece of debris that looked like it had been part of the ceiling, and flipped it out of the way. Beneath was a hole leading down into… some sort of maintenance tunnel?

"Service tunnels", the guard said tersely. "This one leads to a door behind the western stands."

"Does the Brotherhood know about it?"

He shrugged. "Dunno."

That didn't surprise me.

I looked from the dark hole to him. "If-"

"Don't patronize me. I'm not going to say anything."

"And your friend?"

He frowned. "We'll keep him quiet."

"Good. Let's move", I called to Nate.

The ex-soldier limped over as I dropped down into the hole that was only just big enough to allow me through. My armored boots thudded into the concrete below with a boom that reverberated up the too small passage. It was so cramped I was practically crouching just to fit inside, shoulders brushing against either wall. If the Brotherhood do know about this, I won't have many options in a fight.

Activating my NVS, I scanned up and down the corridor. Nothing except bare concrete walls and light fixtures that didn't look like they'd been used in several hundred years (which is probably the case).

I moved out of the way and helped Nate into the passage. As long as the Brotherhood didn't know about this tunnel, he'd be safe. I couldn't wait for him with his injured leg.

"Stay inside once you reach the exit." I took the sniper rifle back from the smaller man.

"What", he asked as I started forward.

"You're injured. I need to move fast if they're still here."

"What do you mean 'if they're still here'?"

I didn't respond; he knew what I meant. There are only two reasons they wouldn't have left with them yet: they were incompetent, or we got here earlier than they were expecting.

What am I going to do if they have taken them? I can't leave the three of them with the Brotherhood.

What the hell am I supposed to do? Go after a large militia with no plan and next to zero resources?

I told them I'd keep them safe.

And then what? Are promises supposed to materialize resources out of thin air?

No, but if anything deserves everything I have, it's this.

That I had no argument with.

After a minute or so of hurriedly shoving myself through what felt like an Archer missile tube, I finally came to an equally small, steel door. It squealed open, and deposited me in a small, shaded enclosure which, looking up, was beneath the stands like the guard had said. If I had to take a guess, I was only a few dozen meters away from Ramirez and Gwen's shack, not that I would go there. That would be another great way to get shot. Again.

I glanced back down the tunnel to see Nate half way through, still heavily favoring his right leg. This area should be safe for now.

There was no way I could wait for him. Hell, even if he hadn't been injured, I couldn't.

It only took a few seconds to find the exit: a rotting wooden door set in the side of the stands. Through it was a back alley I recognized from our little meeting with Deacon. 20 meters to my right, Kellogg's house loomed over the smaller, poorly built shacks littering the field.

More importantly, there were no threats in the immediate area. That meant Diamond City's leadership was smart enough to keep its cards close to its chest when playing with the Brotherhood.

Once I'd done a scan as short as I was comfortable with, I began skirting toward the rear of the stadium. If I had to circumvent the field, it would take me another minute to get to the exit near the northwest corner of the city. It would be where I'd extract from.

It pained me to leave the launcher, but I couldn't risk climbing to where it was hidden.

And I don't have the time.

If my rare experiences fighting in civilians settings were anything to judge by, there should be mass panic with all the gunfire from earlier, especially considering their response to Vertibirds showing up for the first time a few weeks ago. If it weren't already obvious, the incredible quiet pervading Diamond City would have been a dead giveaway the Brotherhood had gotten in bed with them.

I stuck to shadow the best I could as I slipped toward the north end of the field where they had planted crops. Even with the shacks still crowding me and dampening any sounds trying to make their way to me, as I neared the dilapidated collection, I began hearing… something.

Footsteps. Several sets.

The careful, soft cadence said they were trying to be as quiet as they could, but the heavy thuds of this world's power armor was damn near impossible to hide. Amateurs. If you're in an open engagement, stealth isn't anywhere near as important as speed.

Even so, my heart tried to jump out of my chest. If they were trying to stay quiet, did that mean they were trying to sneak the kids out? Had they been arrogant enough to think they had me dead to rights? That I wouldn't be able to survive their attack? Had they thought it would be safer to keep them in the city until the fighting was over? Had the three of them somehow managed to hide until now?

Possibilities raced through my mind too quickly for me to process them all. Even if that hadn't been the case, I squelched the speculation; it wasn't helpful and I wouldn't know until I knew.

Despite the rush of emotion crowding my head, despite the sudden, primal drive to dive into the fight, to save them, I forced myself to stop at the edge of Diamond City's 'residential' area. Getting myself killed wouldn't do the three of them any good. If I'm going to do this, I need to play it smart. They know I'm not dead, and while they might think I'm still trapped in the entrance tunnel, any halfway competent commander will have overwatch to be safe. That's combat 101.

The vegetation and crops were thick enough to block my view, but the thuds from the Brotherhood's cumbersome power armor put them maybe half way between me and the exit, 50 meters away.

If they were trying to be quiet, in that armor, they'll take another 30 seconds to cross the distance. It wouldn't take me more than an instant. The only safe places for overwatch would be in the stands above me, or the area over the exit. Anywhere else would be too far away, too exposed, or not provide enough coverage.

I scanned the stands above the exit. There weren't too many places they could be with most of the space taken up by a massive green wall. Limited places to hide probably put that location out by proxy, which left the area over me.

Whoever was moving toward the exit was maybe 20 seconds away now.

How the hell am I going to clear that?

With no time to reposition, there was no way to search for them. What's the best way to deal with this then? I might have a chance to rescue them, but if I take any longer, it's going to slip away.

My mind offered the answer like it was the most obvious thing in the world; the SPARTAN go to: move fast, hit hard. My personal favorite too.

This wasn't a fight I could get excited about though. The thought of losing the three of them, breaking my promise, letting those kids down after what happened to them. It was damn near unbearable.

No, I couldn't find any excitement, but the need to get to them took its place.

I slipped along the wall, doing my best to avoid any plants that might give away my approach. Luckily, Diamond City's well thought out agriculture left two or three meters between the crops and the stands to provide space for, I'd guess, equipment and workers. It allowed me to stay out of sight of the overwatch.

The group was within a half dozen meters of the exit when I drew even with them. I still couldn't see them through the plants. That meant I couldn't risk firing and hitting one of the kids. Barreling straight in was equally risky, but if I waited until they were in the tunnel leading to the north end parking lot, I'd be in another bottleneck.

Three meters.

I don't have a choice.

Goddamnit.

I have to go now.

What if I hit one of them?

Don't

Helpful.

GO.

My legs coiled tight and in the next instant I was flying across the five or six meters between me, and whoever was trying, and failing, to sneak around in that ungainly armor.

I crashed through the crops and drove my shoulder into the lead soldier. My momentum knocked them to the ground and I twisted-

Cassandra was directly in front of me, face a mask of shock. Behind her was Thomas, and standing over him-

I swept my rifle up and practically shoved the muzzle into the helmet of another soldier before pulling the trigger.

The booming report drowned out the two kids' screams as the round punched through the Brotherhood member's helmet. Their head snapped back and they dropped to the ground, yet another soldier behind them, boxy laser rifle coming to bear.

No time to chamber a new round, and I couldn't stay there. I had to get the kids out. My primary objective isn't killing the Brotherhood soldiers, it's keeping the three of them safe.

Against every instinct, I flung the MacMillian back toward the stands and, as the first red bolt speared from the projector and into my shields, I grabbed Cassandra and Thomas, and leapt after it.

Julian! They still have Julian.

One thing at a time.

My rifle smacked into the wall an instant before I did, carrying the two with me. I shoved them both to the ground as laser fire began burning it's way through the crops.

"STAY DOWN."

I grabbed the hopefully undamaged weapon from the dirt floor and chambered a second cartridge. Julian had to have been behind me, in front of the soldier I'd knocked aside. I traced the stream of laser bolts back where the third soldier was and fired another round through the crops.

The spray of red spears of light stopped, but I didn't hear them fall. An instant later, more return fire came from my left, toward the tunnel. Just underneath the odd, twangy reports, I could make out several sets of footsteps pounding on concrete.

That's bad.

Shooting blindly after them was the worst thing I could do, but charging down the tunnel wasn't much better. On top of that, I still don't know where their overwatch is-

My head snapped to the stands above me.

Trying to climb the wall over their exit was a no go, but getting into the stands here would be easy enough.

I turned to Cassandra who was still laying flat, head pressed into the dirt.

"Get moving." I pulled the young girl to her feet and pointed down the wall. "There's a wooden door set in the wall, Nate's waiting behind it."

Her eyes were wide and scared, lower jaw trembling uncontrollably. "Damon- what's", she glanced around, "Julian. Where's Julian."

"Still with them."

She tried to bolt toward the tunnel but I held her in place. "We can't- I can't-"

"Cassandra. I need you to follow orders. I'll get him back, but I can't do that with you."

Is that true? Can I get him back?

I have to.

The young girl looked up to meet my gaze. She was in shock, but there was a hint of grim determination in her eyes.

"Please Cassandra. Trust me."

I needed to go, the clock in my head was way past ticking, but I needed to know she'd listen even more.

After another heartbeat, her face adopted the same fortitude in her eyes and she nodded.

She turned and grabbed Thomas. I had a glimpse behind the tough, crafty exterior; Cassandra was just as scared, terrified, and broken as anyone would be in her situation, yet here she was keeping calm, trusting me with Julian's safety in the middle of a gunfight. That girl might be more courageous than anyone else I've met, certainly more so than me.

My attention returned to the retreating Brotherhood soldiers, a pang of relief blooming at the back of my mind. The job wasn't done, I still have the hardest part to go, but if they can make it back to Nate, they'd be safe for the time being. Now I could focus on making these assholes pay.

If there were any soldiers waiting below, I'd be giving them a clear shot, at least for the moment, but it was an acceptable risk. Going through the tunnel wasn't.

I sprung over the three meter high wall and into the stands-

And was immediately met with more laser fire.

Several lances burned into my shields and I dove to the side, crashing into, and through, a small wooden shack that was probably ready to fall apart on its own. As I came out of the roll, I brought the sniper up and sighted on one of my attackers.

Ramirez.

The stocky, dark skinned soldier wasn't wearing any armor, so the round that hit him just below the base of his neck separated his head from the rest of his body in an explosion of red mist.

Someone to my right screamed before spraying red beams at me. The panicked shots seared their way into the remains of the small structure I'd barreled through and the stands around me, but only one other hit me as I chambered a second round and drew a bead on Gwen. They must have been sent up here because they knew the stadium.

I'd be lying to myself if I said I didn't feel a pang of remorse as the woman's head turned into a splatter on the seats behind her. She couldn't have been much older than me. Maybe she fell into the same trap the Brotherhood was trying to pull these three into. Under different circumstances, maybe she didn't need to die.

What? I'm feeling remorse for someone who was just trying to kill me? I don't have time to sit here feeling sorry for a person who signed their own death certificate. Get moving.

After a moment's struggle, I pushed the sentiment out of mind and ran for the northern stands. These people attacked us and are trying to take the kids hostage. I'm not going to pity them for choosing the wrong person to ambush.

Before I reached the edge, I heard the high pitched whine of turbine engines spooling up.

Son of a bitch, they have Vertibirds.

Now I very much wished I had the recoilless gun.

As I came to the top of the stands, I peaked down into the parking lot. There were two of the VTOLs sitting in wait 20 meters from the stadium's exterior, both facing away. Their rotors were already beginning to beat the air and it was impossible to get a clean shot. Three soldiers pulling Julian with them, only one in power armor, were just reaching the far aircraft, two others were standing guard, and one more was trundling their way toward them. That must have been the one I'd run into.

How well armored are those engines?

I sighted on the one the small boy was struggling to stay out of and squeezed off another high caliber round. As the bullet impacted the starboard engine pod, there was a disappointing lack of destruction. The plating must have been at least a half inch thick, and shooting for the rotating assembly was a pointless endeavor.

No sooner had the sparks from the hit faded then the two soldiers in power armor standing guard began peppering my position with suppressing fire.

None of it was effective, but it made taking another shot difficult.

Lucky for me, they showed their inexperience again. The closest Vertibird's rotors reached takeoff rpm and the VTOL lifted off the broken asphalt and began to turn toward me. It had a large chin gun I'm sure the pilot thought would be very effective. He was probably right. What he hadn't thought about was facing me, and pitching his bird forward allowed a perfect shot into the cockpit. If it had been someone- something else he was fighting, that might have been a good idea.

But he wasn't. He was fighting a SPARTAN who was doing his best to reign in a lot of anger.

I put my next round straight through the canopy. The explosion of blood in the cockpit made it impossible to tell where I'd hit the pilot. The where didn't matter. What mattered was the Vertibird continued to pitch forward and it's pounding rotors carried it into the base of the stadium's northern wall. The impact shook the stadium so bad, I struggled to maintain balance as a five meter portion to my right collapsed.

There must have been some safety feature built into the VTOL's engines. As soon as the aircraft came down, I heard a loud bang underneath the cacophony of metal screeching and wood splintering, and unlike most prop-driven aircraft, the blades didn't disintegrate.

That one I didn't feel bad for, the dumbass should have played it safe.

One down.

The second Vertibird was beginning to lift off the ground, all six remaining soldiers and Julian inside.

Dammit. Dammit. DAMMIT!

What am I supposed to do? That pilot wouldn't be stupid enough to try the same maneuver and even if they were, I couldn't shoot them down.

My mind provided another suggestion, and it was an incredibly stupid one.

If I have a chance, I have to take it. I can't let them get separated after everything they've been through.

There were only a few seconds to try this, I don't have time to worry about it, I need to go.

Shoving my doubts as far away as I could, I set the sniper rifle aside, and backed away from the edge.

This was a very, very bad idea, but what choice do I have. With one last effort to push the concerns aside, I sprung forward.

Three strides and I was at full speed, the weakend stands groaning in protest. The fourth launched me into the air accompanied by a loud crunch and shower of splinters.

Jumping 20 meters wasn't an issue. Landing on a target wasn't either. Jumping 20 meters through the air, trying to hit a moving target at an extremely narrow angle was incredibly difficult. The fall didn't concern me, nor did the distance between the Vertibird and the stadium. Hitting one of the rotors did though. Not so sure about surviving that.

I soared across the distance, arms outstretched, reaching for the climbing VTOL and my rapidly disappearing target zone. It was beginning to pitch forward, away from the stadium. I willed my arms to grow, my trajectory to stay flat, the aircraft to stay within reach for just a second longer. I wasn't going to let them down, I wasn't going to do all this to fail at the end.

As it turns out, I overestimated the Vertibird's airspeed. Instead of grabbing for the edge of the passenger compartment, I careened through the sliver of the starboard door and slammed into the front bulkhead hard enough to leave a massive impression.

The impact rung my bell, hard.

"Damon!" That was Julian screaming, he sounded… scared. Why was- I'm here to help him, I have to help him.

Shaking myself out of the shock, the first thing I noticed was the soldier standing closest to me, an unarmored man, bringing his laser rifle up.

My right arm snapped forward and I ripped the weapon from his grasp. My left hand clamped onto his vest and I threw him from the Vertibird to the receding ground below.

A laser bolt speared into my chest, my shields flairing. It was one of the armored soldiers crammed into the passenger compartment.

I knocked their rifle aside and launched an open handed strike into the soldier's helmet. The Brotherhood member's head snapped back and-

Another one of the armored soldiers lunged for me. I shoved myself toward the front bulkhead and shunted the charge aside with my left elbow, propelling that one out into open space too.

Turning back to-

Something heavy slammed into my chest.

No.

It was another armored soldier.

No… no. No.

I was falling backwards.

I can't-

My right hand flailed for the Vertibird's frame.

I can't fail.

It landed on the inner edge. I clamped my fingers on it with every ounce of strength I had-

And it slid off.

NO!

I continued pitching backward. I continued falling.

The instant I locked eyes with Julian, being held by the remaining unarmored soldier, seemed to stretch on into infinity. He was scared. Terrified. He was relying on me to save him. The look on his face, the wide eyed, open mouthed panic branded itself into my mind with a searing hot iron.

And I knew, as I felt weightlessness take over… I knew I'd let him down. I'd let his brother down. I'd let Cassandra down. I'd let Nate down.

I'd let myself down.

I'm supposed to be ONI's favorite pet weapon. The SPARTAN they sent in when every other option failed. I knew as the horrified young boy reaching for my outstretched hand disappeared from view, they were wrong. I couldn't even save Julian. I couldn't even save one scared little kid.

"NO!"

It was a moment before I realized that was aloud, but I didn't care. I didn't care I was falling three dozen meters to hard asphalt below. I didn't care about the Brotherhood. I didn't care about the Institute. I didn't care about the UNSC. All I could think about was the Vertibird receding even as I reached for it, hoping it would come back within range.

Even though I knew it wouldn't.

That moment froze in time. Falling, Brotherhood soldier wrapped around my chest, reaching for something I could never touch.

What the hell am I doing? All this time, all those fights, all that pain…

Memories flashed through my head; countless trips to the infirmary, broken limbs, torn ligaments, a fractured eye socket, once with a broken neck. Long hours on the range, in the gym, on the practice course. Deployments, spending days crawling through waist high grass after a week of watching patrol patterns. A barracks full of dead Insurrectionists, Insurrectionists I killed. A high caliber armor piercing round punching through the soft armor over my left hip, ricocheting off the bone and out the side. Limping my way through the rest of that mission, only stimulants and my own stubbornness keeping me upright and conscious because I damn sure wasn't going to fail while I could still move.

What had all that been for? I'm supposed to be elite in a way most soldiers couldn't dream. Bred, built, and trained to be the deadliest warrior I could be. Spent countless hours practicing so I could overcome anything, and even more time putting that practice into action. Against the Covenant, against Insurrectionists, against anyone ONI felt deserved my fury. All of my anger and, now that I recognize it, desperation into every plan, every shot, every blow because I couldn't do anything else. Overcome lopsided odds so many times, usually by leaving a trail of dead bodies, my handler once called me a 'god ordained grim reaper'.

And now, here, in a different reality, against a militia that wouldn't have been on my radar in UNSC space…

I failed.

I failed in a way I never thought I would.

I didn't fail a mission.

I didn't fail ONI.

I didn't fail the UNSC.

I failed a person.

I failed a friend.

Chapter 21: A Change of Plans

I knew there was a Brotherhood soldier wrapped around my chest. I knew I was falling with the better part of a ton between the two of us toward Diamond City's fast approaching parking lot. I knew there were likely still other Brotherhood forces in the area. I knew the Brotherhood likely had the Courser chip. I knew my chances of getting back to the UNSC were now an even smaller decimal.

And none of that mattered.

Everything was moving in slow motion as the Vertibird carried Julian away over the broken city. He was right there. All I had to do was reach out-

But I knew that was a lie. It was over, the Brotherhood won.

Dammit...

What if I had been just a little faster, my decision making a little quicker? What if I had taken the time to analyze the situation before diving into the fight? What if I hadn't taken so long to get to the Institute? What if I hadn't waited to take them to Sanctuary? What if I had just killed that bastard Maxson the one time he was stupid enough to meet me in person? What if I had figured out how to dismantle the Brotherhood like I knew I should instead of trying to use them?

Erasing groups like theirs is what I was made to do. Why hadn't I done my job?

I let emotions get in the way of my decision making, compromised what made me the boogeyman for so many Insurrectionists. Why? To make people more comfortable around me?

And Julian is paying for that now.

What am I going to say to Cassandra? To Thomas? What am I supposed to do?

The howl of wind whipping by my helmet snapped my attention back to the asphalt, maybe 15 meters away now. With the Brotherhood soldier still over me, landing on my back with the extra 500 kilos wouldn't be good.

I can't keep the other three safe if I'm injured or dead. I can't rescue Julian either.

My mind sluggishly came back to some semblance of awareness. The bastard that knocked me from the Vertibird still had their arms wrapped around my chest. I didn't have time to extricate myself, but I don't need to. I just need to make sure the soldier lands first.

As we plummeted toward the asphalt, I pulled my left knee as far up as I could and twisted to my right, hard. That sent us into a spin and, just before we hit the ground, I tensed.

The ground met us with a cacophony of thuds and shattering asphalt. That was at least before my hearing checked out. Even though the armored soldier took most of the impact, my head still slammed forward in my helmet hard enough to make my vision flash white. A lance of pain shot through my left leg and I couldn't completely stifle the groan that forced its way passed my clenched jaw. That kind of pain, it wasn't a broken bone, but something bad happened.

Worry about it later.

At the very least the agony in my leg helped keep my head from wandering too far. Thinking about- I couldn't. Despite the yawning chasm in my stomach, everyone was still in danger. I couldn't let the Brotherhood get to them too.

My vision cleared and I noticed that, instead of landing on the soldier like intended, we hadn't rotated far enough. I landed on their chest, but my leg had gotten tangled with theirs. My rifle was crushed. Again. The Brotherhood member's laser rifle was nowhere to be found and the force of the impact had even torn my 10mm handgun from its mag clamp.

The parking lot was empty now save the other two soldiers I'd thrown from the Vertibird. The unarmored one was a smear of blood and bone across the asphalt like someone had run him over with a tank, and the other armored soldier wasn't moving. Neither of them had weapons either. Damn.

With another stifled groan, I got my hands under me and pushed myself to my feet. Weighting my left leg didn't hurt, but the moment I bent my leg to take a step, pain shot from the base of my knee, into my gut. But it didn't give out. That meant nothing was torn or broken, just sprained. Get moving, get some heat in it. A dull persistent ache pulsed through every part of my body. The T-60 armor took the impact, but it's hard shell didn't absorb any shock, I was more concerned with preventing another half ton from landing on me, but falling 40 meters certainly didn't feel good.

Teeth gritted, I began toward the tunnel leading back into the stadium. To an extent, I welcomed the pain. It was a lot easier to focus on that than the Vertibird who's pounding rotors I could still hear behind me. Each concussion hit me like a sledgehammer. A reminder.

Keep moving. Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas still need help.

Keep moving.

Don't stop.

The tail of the VTOL sticking out of Diamond City's northern wall was smoking, but there were no fires I could see. No movement either, a crash like that would probably have killed anyone not wearing a set of T-60, and I hadn't seen anyone in the passenger compartment as it turned toward me.

Every step sent pain into my stomach, and eventually worked its way into my chest. But I'm used to this sort of pain. I'm well acquainted with physical pain. It's much easier to deal with than… whatever else was pounding through my head like a machine gun.

I didn't push the lances shooting through my leg away. I kept them at the center of my attention as I walked down the tunnel, eyes scanning for more potential threats.

Nothing.

No soldiers, no guards, no civilians. Hell, I didn't even hear anything in the city.

Wait.

With a thought, I pulled my suit diagnostics up.

… No, no new notifications. My audio wasn't damaged.

Does that mean more Brotherhood soldiers are waiting in the city to ambush me?

I stopped a half dozen meters from the end of the tunnel. Nothing directly ahead of me in the field of crops, or in the collection of ramshackle cabins beyond that. I couldn't see into the stands above me, but if there was anyone lying in wait, they would have had to haul ass to get in position.

The stands… Ramirez and Gwen. They had laser rifles on them. And the MacMillian is still up there.

There wasn't really any clearing my exit without a weapon. I checked the positions I could, but in the end, I stuck my head out of the tunnel and searched for potential threats, hoping I wouldn't get shot.

Still nothing… what the hell is going on? Why would they only dedicate three soldiers to ambush us when they had almost ten more in the city?

The Brotherhood had dedicated the majority of their forces to capturing three kids. Why? Sure, they had us in a phenomenal chokepoint, and they hadn't seen me fight, at least not for keeps. But none of this made any sense.

It was another minute before I got to the two dispatched soldiers and stripped them of their weapons. Vaulting into the stands wasn't the most comfortable thing I'd done on a sprained knee, but far from the worst. Once I retrieved the sniper rifle, I trudged my way back toward the small enclosure Nate and the three-

I swallowed.

Two kids should be hiding.

Dammit. Godammit. How did I let this happen? How did I let the Brotherhood get the drop on me?

The anger that had been roiling at the back of my head surged to the front before I could clamp down on it. Just like when Kleo had ambushed us and Nate almost died, this time it wasn't me that paid for my ineptitude, it was someone else. This time it was a kid who just had his world ripped apart. It was Cassandra and Thomas who I'd let down. I said I never wanted to experience this again, this feeling of… helplessness. Whatever I'd felt watching over Nate, unconscious, recovering from the round that missed his heart by a centimeter, was a drop in the sea of anguish that flooded every corner of my mind.

As I reached the stands over their hiding spot, I dropped over the side of the stadium's seating area and thudded to the ground.

The pain that shot through my leg barely registered.

It took me a moment to find the dilapidated wooden door set in the wall. If anything could be said for them, Diamond City's guards seemed well prepared. Paying them that compliment left a sour taste in my mouth. They'd participated in this ambush. They're just as responsible as the Brotherhood.

I reached for it, but my hand stopped a few centimeters away.

What am I supposed to say? I promised to keep them safe, I promised them the simplest thing. And I failed.

Whatever I need to. Standing out here isn't going to get us anywhere. At some point the people here are going to stop cowering in their scraped together facsimile of a city.

As I pushed my hand through what felt like a brick wall to the door, I wished more than anything the throbbing pain in my leg was severe enough to incapacitate me. I almost smiled mockingly. After everything I've done, I'm ashamed of myself now of all times.

"Coming in", I called as I pulled the door open. The painfully loud shriek as it pivoted on rusty hinges seemed an order of magnitude worse than it had on the way out.

Dim light from the shadowed space beneath the overhanging structures above me streamed through the door into the pitch black room beyond. I know, intellectually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness almost instantly. But I couldn't see the three of them, huddled by the entrance to the service tunnel like their breathing would suggest.

Seemingly without command, my right leg moved forward and I ducked through the door. As soon as my left made contact with the hard dirt floor and I leaned on it, my knee buckled and I had to catch myself before falling to the ground. It didn't hurt… but it felt like the weight of the world had just dropped on my head.

"Wh- are you alright", Nate asked, taking a hesitant step toward me.

I looked up at the smaller man.

Am I alright? No, I'm really fucking far from alright.

"I'm not seriously injured. They-" My voice caught in my throat.

My partner was staring at me, expression a mixture of fear and concern, but realization dawned on his face as his eyes drifted behind me, to the empty doorway. Seeing his shoulders slump, and features melt into anguish… it was almost enough to add to my own frustration and misery.

"They took Julian", I managed to bite out. I pulled my leg out of the way and slumped to the ground.

"What", Cassandra's voice came from the tunnel. "What?"

My head dropped to the ground. Meeting the young girl's gaze as she walked toward us, eyes wide with shock and horror was- how? What am I supposed to say? I've never- saving people has never been my job. Saving people that… I wanted to save, needed to save.

I don't know what to do.

I don't know what to do? There's always something else to do, another tactic I haven't tried yet, a counterpunch, a- something.

What is it?

Cassandra stopped in front of me. All I could see was her tattered boots between my splayed legs.

"Damon, where's Julian?" Her voice was plenty desperate, but there was a hard edge on it, just like the one I'd heard when I first rescued them from Supermutants who were about to make them dessert.

What am I supposed to do?

I finally managed to tear my eyes from the ground between my legs and looked up to meet her gaze. The young girl's face was just as desperate as her voice: blue eyes wide as dinner plates, brimming with tears, mouth set in a hard frown, and lower lip quivering.

"They got away."

My voice sounded dead, even to me. It sounded detached and unfeeling. But that was a lie, something I now knew was a last line of defense from the roiling pain and fury I felt simmering just below the surface. It was the same as what I've used for so many years to bury the attack behind layers of insulation. The mask has broken a few times, especially recently, but it couldn't here.

I also knew I was anything but unfeeling. My facade was the last thing I had though. The only thing I have to hold on to. If I let that fail too, if I let the anguish escape completely, will I ever be able to put it back?

"You- you said-", her voice broke and tears began streaming down her face. "You said you'd save him. You'd said you'd keep us safe."

She didn't sound accusatory, more… resigned, and that may have been worse. My mind took me back to the conversation I had with her a few days ago in the stands, almost directly over where we were now. The look of despondent sadness was the same, except this time it wasn't the fear of losing one of them, it had happened.

And it was my fault.

Thomas walked up beside Cassandra, looking confused.

"Cassandra said you were getting Julian. Where is he?"

"I-" my voice hitched again, and I looked at Nate, whose face was still twisted in anguish. He wouldn't be any help here, and why should he be? I'm the one who was supposed to bring them all back.

"They took him."

The young boy's eyes widened, the beginnings of panic taking hold. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't get him back."

"But- Nate and Cassandra said you could. Where did they go?"

I shook my head. "Back to their ship."

"Are we going there next? Why can't we just go back? Why did they take Julian? Aren't they our friends? What's- I don't- I don't get it." The words stumbled over themselves as Thomas began crying too.

Cassandra cast one more glance at me before kneeling. She placed her hands on Thomas's shoulders, mouth working open and closed, but no words came. She was probably trying to come up with something to say about how everything was going to be okay, how we'd get Julian back, and how they'd be safe.

But the teenager couldn't.

She's held it together as long as she could, but now... What was left of their family is separated, and none of us know what's going to happen to Julian. I have my guesses, but I've been wrong about everything so far.

And it's my fault.

Eventually she pulled the young boy into a tight hug, and they both burst into sobs.

I'm a SPARTAN, one of the greatest warriors humanity has ever created, and I couldn't save one scared little kid. What the hell am I even doing? What have I done all this fighting and killing for if, when it comes to saving a life, I couldn't?

I watched the two of them, hugging and crying in front of me, and it felt like my heart was twisting itself into knots.

It seemed like the four of us could have stayed there like that until the end of time.

But old habits die hard.

Despite everything, after what must have been the better part of 10 minutes, the alarm bells started going off in my head again. We needed to get moving. I don't know if the people here would be brave enough to try their luck, but it wasn't worth the risk. I've already failed once today, I don't need to do it again.

When I looked up at Nate, his face was still a mask of pain and loss I'd suspect was not entirely about Julian. His eyes held the same sort of determination I've seen a few times now.

The smaller man noticed me watching and, through the grimace, he nodded.

We still have to keep these two safe, no matter what. I'd work on a plan for getting Julian back afterwards.

This time, my knee tried to buckle again when I climbed to my feet, a sharp lance of pain stabbing through my leg. The armor did its best to compensate and support. Muscle damage is easier, but there was only so much it could do for a joint.

Nate's eyes stayed locked on me as I rocked from leg to leg, trying to get some blood flowing through my left knee.

What next? What do I do next? This- thinking about the next tactical decision in a combat situation isn't something I've done in a long time. I need to get my head on straight, as hard as it may be. I failed. I couldn't keep them all safe. But now, more than ever, I need to get my head back in the game. My only chance to make up for this is to get Cassandra, Thomas, and Nate to safety. Once they're out of danger… the Brotherhood are going to learn what it means to be hunted.

How long has it been since the attack ended? 15 minutes? No doubt the guard would be poking around by now. It wouldn't be a surprise if they had someone watching the action, in which case they'd know what happened, that I'm still alive and armed, probably where we are.

These assholes cooperated with the Brotherhood.

Taking retribution against a small settlement that was under pressure from a much larger, better equipped, and better trained force wouldn't do any good. But it certainly would feel good.

Put it away.

I let out a low sigh. Put it away. Put it away. Mission first. It's always the goddamn mission first.

Whatever.

If they didn't have a spotter watching me, the men in the tunnel would no doubt report where we went, and they'd be waiting for us.

So how to do this? Shooting my way out was untenable. Trying to sneak out would be equally impossible.

If they had someone watching, they'd know I survived a kill box ambush, left six Brotherhood soldiers, four of them in power armor dead, and shot down a Vertibird with a bolt action rifle. The Brotherhood had the drop on me, and they lost a ton of resources. They know coming after me is expensive. So what's the best way to leave? The best way to leave a message? The best way to make sure they never think about doing something like this again?

Walk out the front fucking door, in full view of everyone.

Is that the tactical decision? No. No it isn't. But these people don't know what SPARTANs are.

It's about goddamn time they learned. If I'm going to keep these three safe, I'd need to be as much a deterrent as I am a direct combatant.

And I wanted them to see I could take an ambush against superior numbers and resources, and walk out.

"We need to contact Deacon", I said, my voice exuding a calm into the small enclosure I certainly didn't feel.

Nate looked confused. "Why?"

"Get them somewhere safe. Sanctuary is out of the question now."

"Wait", Cassandra interjected, standing and wiping her face with her sleeve. "We aren't going anywhere until we get Julian back. I'm not running when he's in trouble."

I grimaced. There was nothing either of us could say to convince her. The harsh stare the girl was shooting my way, the hard set in her jaw, and her stiff shoulders said that much. There's no point though. Going after Julian and the Brotherhood right now was suicide. They wouldn't do anything to him; they know how hard I fought to get him back, they know how much an impromptu counterattack cost them. They know they don't want to get involved in a full scale conflict when I have time to prepare, which harming Julian would create, until they have time to reassess and plan.

"We will", Nate said before I could. "But staying here won't get us anywhere. Diamond City cooperated with them to set this all up. If you stay here, we won't be able to go get Julian."

Cassandra didn't like that answer. She rounded on the ex-soldier, eyes furious. "You two promised you'd keep us safe. How am I supposed to trust you now? After this?"

It was a valid criticism. We failed. I failed. But- if I know anything, if I gained one thing from all the training, all the fights, all the injuries, it's how to learn from a failure. Maybe I haven't failed like this before, maybe I haven't failed someone else, but I've failed myself plenty. And I know how to fix failures.

While I thought, and Cassandra continued berating the smaller man, I noticed Thomas. He was staring up at me with large, teary eyes. Eyes that had seen far more than anyone should.

It almost pulled me back into the anguish and pain again. There was something else there though. He wasn't looking at me with anger, or fear, or distrust. What was it?

"We need to go."

Both Nate and Cassandra's heads snapped to me.

"Standing here arguing won't get us anywhere." I locked eyes with the teenager. "I will get Julian back, but it's going to take time. They'll be expecting me to try. We need resources, and you need a safe place to stay. Diamond City isn't it." My gaze switched to the ex-soldier. "Call Deacon. We need to meet."

The smaller man nodded.

"You already made that promise", Cassandra spat.

"I did. And I failed. I don't make a habit of doing it twice." The conviction in my voice didn't reflect what I actually felt. All I know is rescuing Julian is something I need to do. If I'm anything, it's persistent. The Brotherhood would probably have learned that regardless, but now I'm going to make damn sure anyone who survives remembers it.

She didn't look convinced. I couldn't blame her. I still had no plan for dealing with the Brotherhood, and whatever happened, it would be exponentially more difficult now they knew I was hostile.

But that's never stopped me before. It sure as hell won't stop me now.

Nate chose that moment to interject.

"I'll send the message tomorrow morning. That tunnel is asking to be ambushed again, and if there are guards waiting for us, we're in trouble."

"Front door."

He and Cassandra shared a doubletake. "What?"

"They need to know they can't do that again. They need to see we survived an ambush they participated in. They need to see how much it cost the Brotherhood to get, as far as they know… nothing." I winced as I finished, and the sharp glare Cassandra shot me said she was still just as upset. While I never participated in the optics game, I've been privy to plenty of 'negotiations' that involved me (or Fourier's squad) as the alternative. Sometimes hanging something that scares someone over their head can be exceedingly useful.

"And if they decide they want to take that chance?"

I cocked my head at the smaller man. Did he actually think I wouldn't retaliate considering what just happened?

"They won't do it a second time."

"What about us?" The question wasn't accusatory, at least not in the same way it had been in the past.

"Whatever we do at this point carries a massive risk. We don't have a good option, so we take the one that gives us the best return."

"You're thinking them seeing you… in action, along with whatever the Brotherhood told them to make the guards cooperate will intimidate them enough to keep their safeties on."

It wasn't a question but I still nodded. Noise from the city was beginning to make its way through the thin wooden wall. Whatever he decides, we need to move.

The ex-soldier looked back down the dark passage we came from, then at the door behind me, then me. His face was twisted into a grimace once again.

"This is one of your worse ideas, but", he paused, taking a deep breath, "okay."

Thomas was standing beside Cassandra, hugging her right arm as he stared at me, tears still trickling down his face. Seeing that hurt. It wasn't just a reminder I'd failed, it called back memories I still felt were better left untouched.

For her part, the teenager was still glaring at me, fury burning in her eyes, but she didn't protest.

"Stay close."

I turned to the door and took a deep breath.

My confidence wasn't entirely based on sound judgement. I knew part of this idea was my ego talking, and there were probably better options, but something about this situation… I needed to show these people they couldn't fuck with whoever they wanted and get away with it. Both Diamond City and the Brotherhood. This place wasn't on my list, yet, but something else like this could put them there. Better to stop that before it got started. Even if they did, I wouldn't be comfortable putting civilians in the crossfire.

The door swung open with another annoyingly loud screech and I stepped back out into the shaded underside of the city's suspended shacks.

Nothing.

The sounds of movement were certainly coming from ahead of-

That sounds like marching.

That's bad timing.

I glanced over my shoulder at the trio behind me. If things went sideways, this could get ugly.

"Do you know how to use a gun", I asked Cassandra.

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. I held out Gwen's confiscated laser rifle. She probably wouldn't be very effective in a firefight, but provided she didn't shoot Nate, it would still be a net positive.

She took the weapon and I readied my own an instant before a large group of Diamond City guards emerged from the mess of cobbled together shacks ahead of us. Each had a rifle or shotgun, all of them were held at the low ready.

I placed myself between the approaching, heavily armed group and my charges. My weapon wasn't exactly aimed at them, but it wasn't far off. A quick flex told me my knee wouldn't tolerate too much stress. Too bad, if this turned into a fight, I'd be using it.

13. That's a minuscule contingent of their guard.

"Any closer and I open fire", I called.

The statement looked like it caught them off guard as several halted on the spot, while a few others came to a hesitant stop. There couldn't have been more than a half dozen meters between us. I could very easily turn this into a melee, and in these tight quarters; that's a fight that wouldn't take more than a few seconds.

"Hold on a sec", one of them said. That voice…

The speaker stepped forward. It was hard to tell them apart with their uniform armor but… is that the one who told us about the tunnel?

"We're here to escort you out of the city. Our mayor decided he doesn't want anything more to do with whatever your fight with the Brotherhood is."

You wanted to involve yourselves in the first place. This decision wasn't made until you realized I'm more trouble than you banked on.

To be fair to this guy at least, he made that call long before this 'mayor' it seems.

"Don't make the same mistake again."

The threat hung in the air between city guards and I. They clearly knew what happened, or some of it, because each of them was constantly shifting uncomfortably.

If I was being honest, I almost hoped one of them decided to try their luck. I couldn't lie to myself and say I didn't want to put a laser through at least a few of them. These bastards may not have attacked us, but they were responsible all the same.

"We won't attack you, but you are no longer welcome here", the guard said eventually.

I nodded. That was fine by me.

"We'll escort you out."

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I motioned for the others to follow, and the guards ahead of me backed away toward the center of the city.

The first step was with my left leg. That was a mistake. By now, it had stiffened to the point bending it took my full concentration. As I set my foot down and put weight on it, a sharp stab screamed through my leg so hard it took every ounce of my self control to stifle the groan and maintain a steady stride. I'll be damned if I show these people I'd been injured in the attack.

As they led us back into the twisting masses of dilapidated shacks, another group of guards surrounded us from behind. It wasn't a surprise, but it still set my mind racing, looking for a method to neutralize the threat my body was certain was near. I didn't disagree. The two dozen guards surrounding us spoke to how nervous they were about me. Maybe it was my ego, but I wanted to make sure they felt my presence. I maintained a pace that was just fast enough to be uncomfortable for them, towering over the men in front of me. They weren't in control of this situation, I was.

I could feel their eyes glued to me. Whether it was out of fear, anger, or wariness, I didn't know, and I didn't care. I haven't done anything to these people, and they tried to get me killed. They should consider themselves lucky they have civilians to stand between them and I. They should consider themselves lucky they hadn't done this to a few years younger me.

Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas had taken when I said 'stay close' to heart. They crowded around me, far too near for comfort. It wasn't just that people this close to me were generally enemy combatants, but it limited my options if something happened. Not that I was going to tell them any different. Despite the discomfort, the safest place for them was within arm's reach of me, and if it made them feel more secure, I wouldn't complain.

When we emerged into the market, it was eerily empty. I'd never enjoyed being there, but routines were comfortable, and not just my own. A departure this strange in the lives of civilians was a major red flag. Even if Diamond City hadn't shown the Brotherhood all their cards, Maxson now knew he could strong arm the largest settlement in the area into attacking someone. They'd only grow more bold from there.

Silence persisted as we trudged up the ramp toward the city's main entrance. It wasn't exactly the exit I'd envisioned, but it would serve well enough. These people were concerned enough about me to dedicate a few dozen guards to escorting me out instead of trying to finish the job the Brotherhood started. Unless something changed they wouldn't be trying anything soon.

By the time we reached the parking lot on the south side of Diamond City, my knee was throbbing so bad I could barely walk. It wasn't the pain, the adrenaline had worn off and my leg reached the point it wouldn't respond anymore.

It was impossible to hide, but I continued walking. This was less about image and more about safety; if the Brotherhood was lying in wait, we couldn't stay in the area. The entrance to the Triggermen's hideout wasn't as far away as I'd like, but it would have to work.

X

It was nearly nightfall by the time we reached the small park. Trudging through Boston's remains, climbing over destroyed buildings and piles of debris didn't do my legs any favors.

I was spent, both physically and mentally, when we finally finished clearing the small, four story building we'd settled on as a temporary haven. The smart thing to do would have been to stay on watch through the night, the potential follow up was always a threat.

But I would have been a liability.

Between nursing my leg through the journey, and my mind operating in high gear, I was damn near shaking from exhaustion. Through the walk, I caught Nate shooting my worried glances, but he tried not to let me see. It wouldn't matter if I was injured or not, I still have a job to do.

As soon as I was comfortable the building was safe, I slumped against a wall on the third floor's main room and dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

Cassandra, more withdrawn that angry at this point, sat against the opposite wall, cradling Thomas's head in her lap.

How had I failed them this bad? How did I screw up this bad?

I played the fight back in my head. Strange, this is the second time I've done this since coming here. Screwing the pooch this many times in a little over a month… how did I let this happen? Again? This was different though, wasn't it? The image of the Vertibird receding from view as I plummeted to the parking lot surged to the front of my mind. That feeling of helplessness, anguish… loss. I wanted to ask what I could have done differently, but there were so many variables, so many possibilities, the answers were endless, and all equally useless.

Sure, I might be better prepared for future engagements, but this has been so far outside of my normal scope, it's almost worthless. So the only case this would help, is if I needed to prevent it from happening again. Well it's too late for that.

How-

Nate knelt in front of me, and the concern on his face pulled me away from my self ridicule.

"How bad is it?"

"What?"

"Your leg."

My- oh.

"Sprained knee. I'll be fine tomorrow."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Tomorrow?"

It wasn't the first time. The joint won't be healed for a week or so, but I'd be good to move on it in the morning.

"Yes."

Nate rummaged through his satchel for a few seconds before pulling out a MedX syringe.

"This will help with the pain and swelling."

Never been a fan of drugs. My mistakes caused this injury, and provided it doesn't put anyone else in more danger, I'm going to suffer through their consequences. A little pain isn't much considering what must be going through Julian's head now.

Even so…

I took the injector and slipped it into a pouch. I didn't plan on taking it, but I've never let ego prevent me from completing a mission, and I wouldn't start now.

The ex-soldier looked like he wanted to say something, probably tell me to use it, but refrained. Instead he sighed and looked over his shoulder at the two children huddled on the other side of the room.

My gaze drifted down to the finger sized hold in his lower left pant leg. "How's your leg?"

With a note of confusion, he met my eyes before realization dawned in the smaller man's face.

"Oh, it's fine now." He winced. "Well, not fine, but I'll be alright."

At least he was being honest. I nodded. "We'll need to be ready to move if necessary."

"I know." He shot another glance at Cassandra and Thomas. "Get some rest. I'll take first watch."

I cocked my head.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't need to know you all that well to see you're exhausted. You won't be much use in a fight with a bum leg and half asleep."

My first instinct was to bristle at the statement. I couldn't be trusted to be effective in a fight?

Yeah. Hell I'd already admitted that to myself. Hearing someone else say it, hearing someone else tell me I wasn't mission capable was… difficult. Even among other SPARTANs, I can't remember a single time anyone questioned my competence. Now Nate, someone I've known for a little over a month, is. And he's right.

That didn't do my conscience any favors. I'd let the Brotherhood capture Julian, and now I can't even be trusted to stay on watch.

Suck it up. That isn't what this is and I know it.

"Alright."

"Good", Nate replied, "if I get shot, you're the first person I'll tell." The smile he wore wasn't his normal, overly enthusiastic grin, and the sarcastic comment was almost as strained as his attempted levity. My mind flashed back to the look of anguish on his face when I told him I failed, then to the stands a few days prior when he said he couldn't- wouldn't let the three of them down. And he hadn't. I had.

Now he's trying to comfort me?

I only nodded in response.

The ex-soldier stood, looking about as stiff as I felt. As he trundled toward the building's street facing wall, I settled myself in for what would undoubtedly be a horrible night's sleep.

Like I had any other type of sleep.

Contrary to what most would think, I rarely sleep with my weapon in hand. Most times, even with years of training and experience, and the reflexes of a SPARTAN, the first few seconds after waking, your brain doesn't function anywhere near well enough to handle a rifle safely. Unnecessary discharges and even friendly fire are far too likely if someone wakes up, panicked, with a firearm in their hands. Circumstances permitting, it's always safer to take a moment to calmly assess the situation. If not, firing a weapon is an even worse idea; my next choice would be moving.

There have certainly been times where I'll sleep with a firearm close by, like the MacMillan while on the Prydwen, but almost never actually in hand.

This time, I absolutely slept with my confiscated laser rifle. It wasn't the smartest thing, considering my current mental state, but there was no way I'd allow any attacker any potential advantage.

Not after that day.

As expected, when exhaustion finally took over and I drifted off into the poor approximation of sleep I've made do with since… if I had to guess, the attack, nothing good was waiting for me.

Another series of images, sounds, and smells from that goddamn day flowed through my mind. I expected more of the same: those horrors were something I'm familiar with, even if they're still excruciating to remember. This time it wasn't my house though. It was my mom, with her deep blue eyes, hazel brown hair and soft face, holding my shoulders whispering 'we have to go back', as we stood in a crowded terminal. It wasn't the memory of her being butchered alive that was seared into my head.

This was so much worse.

What would she think of me now? What I've become because of what would happen to her and the rest of my life a few hours later? What I've done over the past 8 years?

Shit, I couldn't even remember what type of person she was, and here I am presuming to level criticisms at myself for her. How arrogant can I be?

But those eyes held something I couldn't place. It was warm, caring, but tinged with desperation. Was she kind? Was that her worry for me?

My dad had a similar look in his eyes too, and he'd done nothing to hide it. It was so… different from the one I saw in my own every time I happened to see my reflection. What did that mean?

They cared. It means they cared.

More memories flashed by. It was them fighting again, but they weren't being overwhelmed yet. My parents were shouting to others, what I recognize now as rudimentary call outs, firing through windows, covering each other. Everything was frenetic, but they were all entirely focused on what they were doing. They were fighting with everything they, in their limited capacity as non-SPARTANs, had. They were fighting for me. To protect me. And… my sister. And everyone else there who couldn't fight for themselves. They weren't fighting out of anger or for revenge… they were fighting for the people they cared about.

Now more than ever, I wished I was there. Is that what I've been doing for the past 15 years? Have I been trying to find some way to atone for not being able to fight? If I was, like I said before, I would have butchered every one of those Covenant bastards, even if it cost me my life. I would have defended everyone there with every ounce of my anger, my pain.

Watching the mixture of a dozen or so ex-militia members and regular citizens fight with everything they could muster to protect what was important to them, against odds they had to know were impossible to beat…

If they can do that, how can I expect any less from myself? How can I justify all this time I've spent pissed off, distant ,and vengeful? What, am I trying to make up for something I had no control over? Unlike them, I haven't been fighting to protect others, I've been butchering Insurrectionists and Covenant alike because I wasn't what I am now, I couldn't do anything the one time it actually mattered. I couldn't protect them, so I took it out on the rest of the galaxy. Those people in that moment were more courageous than I've ever been.

Then images of the day's ambush began scrolling past my mind's eye.

And they froze. They froze at the moment Julian and I locked eyes as I was tumbling backwards out of the Vertibird. He looked truly terrified. I heard his scream as the image continued forward, taking the young boy out of view. Taking my chance to make good on that one thing I should have been chasing all this time, and glassing it as thoroughly as the Covenant could have.

Without my realizing it.

I had that chance, I finally got the opportunity to do something with all this pain. That's what I've been waiting for, right? I've always known I couldn't go back in time and fix that day. I had my chance… not to make up for it, but to keep someone else from having to.

And I fucked it up. I screwed the pooch. I couldn't do that one thing. Goddammit.

What am I doing?

The images of my parents and neighbors battling the alien conglomerate flashed through my head again. I'm not worthy of their sacrifice. Look at me. I'm a SPARTAN who's spent most of his life going along with whatever the ONI spooks wanted because I didn't care what I did, I just wanted to hurt someone the way the Covenant had hurt me. Yeah, I was just out there for revenge, but that wasn't why I joined the SPARTAN III program in the first place was it? I joined because I wanted to change a past I never could. The next best thing was to ensure someone else didn't have to suffer the same way I have.

Julian… Thomas… Cassandra. They've seen it, been through the same thing, and I know where they could go from here. I'm walking proof of how bad that path can be. I know that isn't the future they want.

And I failed them.

Fury began building as I once again watched the Vertibird soaring away with that young, scared, traumatized little kid while I plummeted to the ground.

I just had to do one thing. Would it have fixed my past? Hell no, but it would have given these kids another chance, another future besides mine, unmarred by hatred, anger, and loneliness.

Other III's had been able to move on. I'd even met a few from my class when we integrated into SPARTAN OPs. They were still III's, but they seemed to be… at peace. At the time, like the prior decade, I'd justified how I felt, saying they couldn't understand.

But they could. Each of them could.

A pang of regret joined the roiling fury. Regret for how I'd treated Fourier, Amanda, and Liam. I was never rude, or unkind, but as with everything else, I'd remained distant. For what? My own self pity? And now look where that's gotten me. I missed the best opportunity I had to pay my parents' sacrifice forward.

I failed.

I didn't fail myself.

Worse than that.

I failed their sacrifice.

I failed them.

A loud crack woke me with a start. What was that?

My eyes careened around the room, searching. Where was the threat? What was the threat? Brotherhood? Gunners again? Supermutants?

They landed on Cassandra and Julian, still huddled across the room from me, both awake and looking startled. They- were staring at me though.

Specifically, they were staring at my lap.

… Oh.

My laser rifle was in about 100 different pieces. Somewhere along the line in my 'sleep', my hands had clamped around the weapon hard enough to crush the boxy rifle's casing. The polymer was now scattered all over me and the floor around me. The grip hadn't fared any better. All that was left was shards that had been pulverized by a gauntleted hand attached to a SPARTAN who couldn't control his own goddamn emotions, let alone keep these people safe.

All in all, between the shattered focus lenses that seemed to have exploded outward, and the crushed grip, the weapon wouldn't have been useful as a club.

I tossed what was left of it away, disgusted.

Wasting resources. Couldn't even get that right.

Nate's footsteps preceded him rushing into the room, his weapon at the ready. After a moment of scanning, he looked at me, confused.

"What happened?"

I struggled to my feet. My knee was stiff, but it didn't hurt. The main issue now was the muscles around it were fatigued from compensating. The armor helped me along, but it would be a little while before I was able to do anything adventurous.

What happened? Same thing that's been happening for the past 15 years: I screwed up.

"I'll take watch." My HUD's clock read almost 0200- wow, I'd been asleep for five hours. Sure as hell didn't seem like it.

As I limped toward the ex-soldier, I felt Cassandra and Thomas's gazes on the side of my head.

"Damon…" Nate slowly slid out of the way. His face a mixture of fear and that same look of concern my parents had…

I stopped beside him and took a deep breath. He was just as worried, just as hurt as I was. He wasn't acting like a petulant child, was he?

Then another thought occurred. I looked down at the smaller man, something new turning at the back of my head. He was doing everything in his power to make it to Shaun. He was doing the same thing for his son my parents did for my sister and I. I'm actually here to help, unlike with my family. I could minimize his risk, but that didn't make what he was doing any less awe-inspiring: he was torn from his own time, dropped into a strange new world, and the only thing he could think of was saving his kid. When we set out, he didn't know who I was, what threats awaited him, or even where to start looking. But that didn't matter, his only objective was to protect Shaun.

On top of that, now he's agreed to help Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian, taking on even more burden at the expense of finding his son sooner rather than later. Not a SPARTAN, not even this world's special operations, just a normal person with nothing but his own conscience and the wherewithal to act on it. Like my parents, he was showing more courage now than I ever have.

I could learn a lot from him.

"I just need some time to think. I'll be alright."

A fraction of the tension in Nate's face melted away. It may have been my imagination, but I think there was even a small smile mixed somewhere with the worry.

He nodded. "I get it… me too."

My partner… my friend pounded the side of a closed fist on my arm before limping his own way over to Cassandra and Thomas.

After a minute or so of lingering in the room, watching the three of them sit in silence, I turned to head toward the front of the building. At that moment, there were only two things on my mind: I'd find some way to rescue Julian, and there was no way I could change the past, so I'd make damn sure this time I'd have no reason to.

X

Deacon's choice in meeting locations was good. The wide open space surrounded by the half crumbled towers that once made up Boston's skylines made it impossible for anyone to sneak into the meeting, but plenty of sniper positions.

The smart thing to do would be to have Nate make contact with Deacon again while I watched for a potential ambush. Sure, he was used to conventional warfare which meant he probably spent a lot of time searching for snipers lying in wait, but that only got you so far. There's a difference between someone who's used to searching for that sniper, and someone who's used to being that sniper.

That isn't what we're doing.

I was standing in the park, next to the sealed entrance to the subway where the Triggermen's hideout was. Oh man my instincts were screaming at me. I put the small concrete structure between myself and the north side of the park, but there were still far too many positions I could be shot from.

Nate was with the two kids positioned at the east end of the street near the top of a six-story building. Or one that now had six floors. We'd traded weapons, considering the large caliber rifle would be much more useful in that position, once I assured him I wouldn't break this one too.

While I may be the best person to identify an enemy ambush, I'm also the one most likely to survive taking a bullet. That alone would act as a deterrent, but provided that didn't work, at least the ex-soldier wouldn't be at risk. Now all I had to do was settle my nerves. I'm normally the one who disrupts meetings like this.

And of course there's the concern the Brotherhood followed us. They lost a lot during that ambush; if I were them, I'd want a second crack.

Or maybe I wanted them to want a second crack.

I pulled my mind away from the attack, or at least as far as I could. The more pressing concern now is how to proceed, and the answer, for now, is the Railroad.

That's what I kept telling myself at least.

The eerie quiet that blanketed the dead city was only matched by the eerie shadows cast by the rising sun over the broken corpses of towers around me. I was getting used to it but still…

My mission clock read 0855. Deacon should be here within the next five minutes. That wasn't soon enough for my nerves. Even with almost half of the potential shooter positions eliminated, there were still far too many to check. Hell, even if there weren't, so many were cast in such deep shadow it wouldn't matter.

Just before my HUD ticked over to 0900, I heard a scuff from the opposite side of the park. I risked a peak around the side of the subway entrance.

It was Deacon. That was some damn good timing, but the familiar tingling in the back of my head someone watching me from… somewhere. Not a surprise, bit my body was still agitated to the point I had to stop my hands from shaking. I didn't know if that was this meeting or… everything else.

"Ah so I get the pleasure of meeting Mr. Apocalypse this time", the Railroad agent said as he trudged across the park toward me. "Don't trust me?"

Against my better judgement, I stepped out from behind the structure. "Yesterday complicated things."

"You got that right." Deacon stopped a dozen meters away. "I knew you were in bed with the Brotherhood, but I didn't think they'd pull that kind of stunt to kill you." He cocked his head. "Who was that they took?"

I didn't bother asking how he knew all that, the man was purposely leading me on, inferring there were no secrets I could keep from them. There's more than one way to play this game.

"Someone important."

"Alright", he replied, holding up his hands, "I get it. So how did the meeting go with Burner?"

"He didn't want to talk with us. Something happened, but he wouldn't say what."

A frown flashed across Deacon's face. "And how did you respond?"

"We left."

The Railroad agent tried to hide the relieved sigh. It didn't work. "So he didn't give you anything?"

I shrugged. "He was nervous the Institute was trying to get whatever intel he has."

"I see." Deacon paused. Those ridiculous sunglasses made it difficult to read what he was thinking. My own ineptitude at social interactions didn't help, but the man had a good poker face. "So how do you propose we continue?"

"That's up to you, we fulfilled our end. You can either uphold yours, or we can see if that sniper you have watching me brought a big enough gun."

"That's an interesting bargain. You're aware your… relationship with the Brotherhood makes working with you much harder. We're already hunted by one extremely powerful organization, we don't need another coming after us."

"You'll have to determine if the risk is worth the reward."

He frowned again. "You aren't very good at this."

"Negotiations aren't my job." I purposely left the rest of that statement unsaid.

"I kinda got that." He paused, clearly deep in thought. It was a simple choice from my perspective: if he didn't want to make me an enemy, and he wanted to gain a significant advantage over the Institute, he'd go along with our original arrangement. If he wanted to take the chance that the Brotherhood is more dangerous than me, he wouldn't.

"Can I ask you one thing?" I nodded. "Your implication about killing me was clear enough, but I'm still a little confused with the 'why'. You have to know killing me wouldn't do you any favors, so what are you so desperate for? It can't just be the Brotherhood. We saw the asskicking you gave them."

He wants to know why I was so desperate? That may have been desperation, but the few times I've truly gone to extremes, it's generally led to much more… violent situations, which much higher bodycounts.

This time I cocked my head. "A small skirmish like that isn't open warfare."

"That's what a desperate you looks like?"

"It depends, but a desperate me doesn't tolerate obstacles if I can remove them." The threat wasn't necessarily directed at him, that one was closer to a warning.

He smiled. "Didn't think I'd get you with that one. Alright, we'll cooperate provided you follow up on our request."

"How so?"

"Provide security while we get in touch with Burner."

The request wasn't a surprise, in fact I'd been expecting it. They were a group of Raiders, provided there was no undue interference, I had no concern over my ability to handle them if need be. If it was up to me, that would have happened yesterday. There was only one condition.

"Agreeable, provided our operation takes priority."

Deacon's eyebrows raised as he studied me.

"You came to us for help. Beggars and choosers and all that. Plus, you lost your bargaining chip when the Brotherhood turned on you."

I'm my own leverage. Something I learned very early on, being privy to some of my handlers' negotiations, is having the biggest gun means you're always operating from a position of power, even if the other person doesn't like it.

"I still have other options." I again left the implication unsaid. "You want the chip as much as we want to get to the Institute. We've accommodated you to this point, I think it's time you return the favor."

"Yeah, yeah", Deacon replied with a nonchalance that set my nerves on edge, "you made your point with the first threat. To be honest, I made the decision after the Brotherhood attacked you. Anyone they'd pull a stunt like that to ambush, is someone I'm interested in. Especially if that person makes them pay for it like that."

I rolled my eyes. This asshole was testing me.

"So getting to the Institute is primary objective?"

He nodded.

Just like that? My experience here so far would suggest it's not going to be that simple. The uncertainty must have come across in my body language because Deacon smiled.

"If you're worried about me double crossing you, I think what you just did to the Brotherhood would be deterrent enough, right?"

"Or information on how to do it better."

"Fair enough, but isn't there a point in every mission you have to decide to trust someone?"

Yes, but that's usually someone who either has something to lose, or something to gain.

Doesn't this guy have both?

And someone who is more trustworthy.

What other choice do I have?

"Agreed", I said begrudgingly.

The Railroad agent's face lit up. "Great! I'm sure Nate is somewhere with that sniper rifle's crosshairs on my head, so let's get him down here and start moving!"

After another moment's hesitation, I waved my left hand.

"What about yours?"

Deacon nodded before twirling a finger. Five minutes later the ex-soldier joined us followed by Cassandra and Thomas. The Railroad sniper emerged from a tower over Deacon's approach. The position was an interesting decision that either betrayed their inexperience, or their competence. She trudged toward us, sniper rifle still in hand, held at the low ready. Her strange, stark white hair caught the sun as she crossed the park, eyes locked on me. She wore a heavy leather jacket that was well armored, but looked unnecessarily heavy, why-

Laser rifles. The long hem and large sleeves had to be for protection against the laser weapons the Institute uses.

It would be useful against the Brotherhood too.

"Come on", Deacon said as she reached us, "don't want to stay out here too long."

I can agree with that.

Our mysterious contact led us on a twisting path through the crumbling, broken city. It was an encouraging sign; the man knew larger groups were easier to track and harder to maneuver, so we never stayed on one street, or in an alley long. We were constantly cutting through buildings, pausing at blind angles to check for tails, and his escort stayed about 50 meters behind us, hoping to catch anyone careless enough to stray between.

The position also gave her the opportunity to provide overwatch for Deacon in case I did something. She kept pace behind us with minimal communication too. These people were good.

My knee wasn't throbbing like it had the day before, and my armor helped get rid of the slight limp that probably should have been there, but it was still irritating. It was irritating my own mistakes had impacted my combat effectiveness.

But that aggravation wasn't much a consideration when- well- a sprained knee will heal.

Eventually, after spending the better part of an hour and a half sneaking around the dead city, through buildings, and even at one point a short section of subway (that put me on edge), we found ourselves standing in front of… I think it's called a church. One that has seen far, far better days. Half of the roof was collapsed, and the walls had holes in them large enough to fit through. Inside was no better, with the benches broken and scattered, the balcony ringing the edge of the interior was just as dilapidated as the building's exterior, and splintered lumber from the roof had fallen across the mess.

Deacon continued forward through the mess. The floor looked about as stable as the rest of the building so I carefully picked my way after him, setting my heavy titanium clad boots as gently as possible on the sickly looking wood. Every step let out a weak groan as the boards flexed under my weight. It certainly wasn't an enjoyable experience with my left knee.

Down a flight of stairs near the back of the main floor, we found ourselves in a basement that looked more like catacombs, with dirt floors, brick walls that were worn smooth, and small enough I almost filled the available space. There was little enough light that I activated my NVS.

And that's how I noticed the odd wear pattern on one of the walls further into the 'basement'.

As he led us down the dark passages, scrapes on the wall to my left in a longer corridor caught my attention. There were three sets, equidistant and parallel. That isn't something that happens naturally.

A second glance told me the edges to those scrapes were sharp. That doesn't necessarily mean they're recent down here, shielded from the elements, but these people are good, much better than the standard fare. Taking a chance this was some sort of trap wasn't something I'd play with. Especially… especially after yesterday.

"Stop", I commanded just before reaching the gouges in the brickwork. As I did, I leveled my borrowed rifle at Deacon's back.

There was a sharp rustling behind me, and I heard the Railroad guard swear.

"Drop your gun!"

"Whoa- hey", Nate said, "everyone calm down-"

"I said drop. Your. Gun."

Deacon turned back to me, a frown drifting across his face.

"No, I'm not going to do that." The ex-soldier cleared his throat. "Damon, what's going on?"

My gaze never left the man in front of me.

"What are these gouges?" I motioned my head to the wall beside me. "They aren't random."

A tense silence fell over the passage and I slipped my finger over the rifle's trigger. These people aren't going to take anything else from me. I'm not dropping this ball twice. What's their play? They want to kill us and take the chip? No, Deacon said they know what happened to the Brotherhood's ambush, and while they might use it as a learning experience, it still didn't make sense to turn another this quickly when they know we'd be wary. So what then?

Eventually the Railroad agent shrugged.

"That's a false wall. We have two people hiding behind it."

"What", I heard Nate say in the same quiet, subdued voice I've heard him use a few times with me. He was just as pissed as I was.

My body coiled, sending a lance of pain shooting through my left, but I didn't care. They are-

"I know you're thinking it was for an ambush, but we aren't here to fight you. They're there as security, that's all."

I didn't relax. I couldn't relax.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?"

"I would like it, yes. We're already at risk to become a target for the Brotherhood, both because we help Synths, and because we're cooperating with you. I don't think I need to explain why we wouldn't also want you as an enemy."

Is that so?

A glance back over my shoulder told me Nate was face to face with the other Railroad member, the kids between us. I didn't have to see his face to know he was as tense, and nervous, as I was.

Turning back to the agent, I motioned with my rifle to the wall beside me.

"Bring them out."

Deacon hesitated again, but before I could make my mind up to do anything else, he nodded.

"Pam, open the door."

I edged to the side as the sound of brick scraping over brick filled the narrow tunnel-

Adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream as the section of wall slid aside to reveal a man dressed almost identically to the woman behind me and… an Assaultron.

Kleo?

No, the head isn't right. Kleo's 'faceplate' had four segments, this one was sectioned down the middle with a cutout for two large lenses.

The Railroad has an Assaultron too? They may not have shown me all of their resources, but the Brotherhood didn't have these things, and if Nate's claims about them are accurate, they're a serious piece of equipment.

I was so keyed up, I had to stifle a flinch when Deacon started talking again. "Alright everyone, now we're all in the open, we can talk like regular human beings."

"Dammit Deacon", another, annoyed, female voice came from the far end of the tunnel behind the Railroad agent, "you said you'd play this one by the books."

He turned to the speaker, a woman maybe a centimeter or two taller than him, shoulder length hair, and again dressed in that heavy, armored leather jacket.

"And you said you'd stay hidden until things were sorted out."

She scoffed. "I guess we're both breaking our words."

"Guess so."

The woman stared Deacon down a moment longer before looking up to meet my gaze.

"So you're this supersoldier from another reality I've been hearing about." Her voice sounded appropriately skeptical. It matched her frown.

I nodded.

She waited for a response a few heartbeats longer before continuing. "Your armor doesn't look anything like the power armor we know of, that's at least a point in your favor, and Deacon here seems to buy that story."

Whoever this woman is, she's the boss around here.

"You want our help getting into the Institute. I hope you appreciate how dangerous that is."

"It's hard to when we don't know a goddamn thing about them", Nate called from behind me.

Now is when your sarcasm decides to make an appearance? Really?

The Railroad leader seemed unfazed.

"Right, and you're the one who was frozen in a Vault for 200 years, and had his son kidnapped by them as well."

My partner's short pause betrayed his grief. Now though, I don't think it's just about Shaun.

"Yes."

"I'll be honest, that story is almost as hard to believe."

"Do you want us to lie to you?"

The people around us probably didn't catch the aggression in that question, but I could hear the sharp edge on his voice. I couldn't let this conversation go sideways. We don't have another option to get to the Institute at this point, and they're our best chance to gather the resources necessary to go after Maxson.

"We have the Courser chip", I interjected before she could reply. "We need your help to get to them, you want the chip."

"That's no reason for us to trust you."

I cocked my head. "You seem to know about everything else I do. I'm guessing you know about my fight with the Courser in CIT."

"It's hard not to track your actions. All we need to do is follow the bodies."

It was a fair statement. Outside of a few secrets I was keeping from the Brotherhood, I certainly haven't been trying to engage in any clandestine operations since coming here. With as few resources and little experience as these people have, I don't need to hide. That will change with that cult though.

"So you do know then."

"We know what it looked like."

"Like I told your man, there's nothing I can do to earn your trust now, and there's nothing you can do to earn mine. We each have something the other wants."

Silence settled back over the cramped tunnel. I felt four sets of eyes on me as the Railroad leader pondered the decision I laid at her feet. If I was in her position, the question would be to either accept the deal, which would mean working with us, or reject it, which means trying to kill us if they're as concerned about operational security as they seem. They'd learn very quickly why so many Insurrectionist cells began planning for when I came calling.

And how they all failed.

My rifle's muzzle had slowly migrated to my left while we talked, so it was about a half meter away from the Assaultron's head. They clearly hadn't noticed, which was the purpose of moving so slowly. If they hinted at opening hostilities, that thing, and the man next to it would be dead before any of the others could register what happened. That would leave three targets. I'd hope Nate could handle the one at my six-

"Okay", the Railroad leader said. "We'll play ball."

I nodded. A strange wave of relief washed over me. That was… odd. I was nervous to fight this small group?

Not me.

It dawned on me like a missile strike. I hadn't been nervous for my safety, I was worried about what might happen to the other three in a tight crossfire like this.

A small smile fought its way onto my face. I guess experiences like yesterday can change anything.

X

"You want me", I said slowly, "to walk 30 kilometers to a factory that probably exists, find a long list of rare, sensitive components, and hope they survived 200 years."

"Exactly", 'Tinker Tom', their… resident scientist said without a drop of sarcasm. "While you're doing that, I'll be putting together the parts I have and building our apparatus."

Nate, for his part, was struggling to hold in laughter despite everything. Seeing me in disbelief, or irritated, always seemed to amuse him. I'd have to find some way to pay the aggravating bastard back.

"How long is that going to take?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, probably a week. Or two." He started counting items off on his hand. This is going to test my patience. "We'll have to clear a spot for the base, fabricate the platform, posts, run wiring-" He glanced up at me, his mouth forming a small 'o'. "S-sorry, I talk when I get nervous."

The dark skinned, unkempt man's face was a mask of both excitement and fear. He might have been four or five years older than me at the most. I wouldn't say I felt bad for him, but there was a pang of remorse. He looked like he was about to puke. It wasn't the first time I've seen that reaction, but something about this guy made it… bitter.

That timeline would be difficult with the Brotherhood on my ass now. 30 kilometers to the northeast side of the city, I'd have to go slower to make sure I wasn't followed, and searching for these components wouldn't be quick either. On top of that, my mind was still racing, searching for a strategy to get Julian back. There were plenty of option if my only goal was to dismantle their operational capacity, but a traditional approach would be dangerous for the kid, if they haven't already done anything.

As much as it pained me to admit, I don't have the experience necessary to execute an operation like that with the available resources. The only other time I undertook a hostage rescue, it was as part of Fourier's squad. A Covenant Remnant had taken the leadership of a smaller colony hostage. They wanted the UNSC to turn 'defectors' over in exchange. I could care less what hinge heads did to other hinge heads, but the UNSC wanted to send a message: you don't fuck with our people anymore.

So they dropped a four man squad of SPARTANs in their lap. We coordinated with the local militia, they provided a diversion in the form of openly engaging the Remnant faction. We dropped from a Pelican hovering a few klicks above the target: the colony's central command which was essentially a small office building hardened against bombardment and small arms.

Zulu, our AI support for the operation, estimated the four of us had just over a minute from touch down to fight through a few dozen enemy combatants including everything from Unggoy to Jihralie and Sangheili. The hostages were on the bottom floor in the governor's office. We used classic bang and clear tactics with a nice helping of explosives and high speed entries.

64 seconds, 23 dead Covenant, and 2 floors later, we recovered the hostages, and moved to assist the militia clear out the stragglers. My favorite part was dropping three Covenant lookouts on the roof while we were still hanging under our chutes.

That was the first time I'd operated as part of a team against the clock like that. The coordination and efficiency was… exhilarating.

It was also the first time I felt like I was part of their squad.

But I don't have a militia to run interference now. I don't have a squad of experienced SPARTANs to back me up. Hell, I don't even know where Julian is.

So get back to what I do know: gather resources and intel, plan an operation once I have the necessary info.

I knew better than to ask what the chances were the equipment was there and usable. The answer would probably be something I didn't like.

Then there was the question of leaving Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas here, alone.

What? Am I going to bring them with me?

If I'm going to be gone for 10 plus days, taking the three of them would only make things more difficult.

"Okay", Nate said, "we'll do it."

My eyes shot to the smaller man. We were standing at Tom's workstation tucked into once side of the large cave the Railroad called their base of operations. He'd spent the last three and a half hours painstakingly peeling back the (apparently) incredibly complex anti-intrusion software written into the Courser chip. Now that he had access to… whatever program allowed them to the Molecular Relay, he'd moved into the hardware stage.

Deacon, the leader, Desdemona, and the other member with shocked white hair and the heavily armored jacket, apparently a front line soldier they call 'heavies', named Glory were all nearby.

"We'll find those parts if they're there."

I was uncomfortable enough leaving them here alone, but for Nate to come with me, and leave Cassandra and Thomas completely vulnerable was a no-go.

"You need to-"

The ex-soldier met my gaze. "Stay here and protect Cass and Thomas?"

I nodded.

He glanced at the two who were sitting near the back wall, talking with another Railroad member. "I was there yesterday, when the Brotherhood attacked." He looked back at me, angry. "I was there and I couldn't do a goddamn thing. What am I going to do here? Alone?"

There were a lot of things he could do. And it wasn't only about protecting them, it's making sure they aren't wound up around mysterious strangers after what just happened. I wanted to argue, but something in his eyes stopped me. There wasn't just anger in them, he was silently pleading with me. Can we talk later?

After a moment's hesitation, I offered another subtle nod.

The smaller man's gaze softened and he turned back to the resident scientist.

"We can leave tomorrow. I don't know how long it'll take, but we should be able to give you an update after we get there."

After we get there… The 'there' in question was a pre-war research and production facility that, apparently, worked on prototypes of what would become the Molecular Relay.

We… Despite his pleading, that still sat wrong with me. I sighed as they continued talking details that, frankly, didn't concern me. How we built this thing, where he'd build it, and when it would be done weren't anything I could control. If Nate wanted to talk about whether he went or not in private, that would have to wait until they were done here.

"I'll fill Cassandra in", I interrupted.

The ex-soldier glanced at me and shrugged. He knew I wasn't interested in the rest of the conversation. I know what I need to: where I need to go, and what I need to get when I'm there. The rest is just noise.

As I approached the Railroad member Cassandra had been talking with stared at me, more suspicious than anything else.

"Give us a minute", I said, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my voice. I'm not frustrated with this guy, and I don't need any more reason for them to distrust me. He stood, hesitantly, staring up at me the whole time.

Once he left, Cassandra finally met my gaze, less anger more… sadness in her eyes now. That hurt. I think I'd have preferred her to be pissed off.

"They figured out how to make the chip work. I need to retrieve equipment."

"So you're just gonna leave. Again."

Well, I guess that shift is only skin deep so far. I couldn't blame her.

"Even though that's how the Brotherhood took Julian."

I was wrong about her not being pissed. And about preferring it. She was right, of course, but what other choice do I have?

"I can't say anything that will make you feel better." I shrugged. "This is the only way I know to get Julian back."

She sighed and looked back at Thomas who was staring at me too. Suddenly, the young girl seemed tired. Very tired. She almost looked the same as she had before we met with Deacon in the city. Cassandra may not have been on the verge of crying this time, but I know that expression: she was doing everything she could to keep herself together.

"How long will it take? For you to get what you need?"

"Don't know. They don't have exact locations so it won't be quick. A week, maybe more."

She took a deep breath. "There are so many questions I want to ask, but I know I wouldn't like the answers."

That almost made me smile. I know the feeling all too well.

"It isn't like I have much choice anyways. Now the Brotherhood is after us", she shot me a glance, "you're the only ones we have."

I- oh. Nate and I are the only ones she has to rely on. Somehow, that was painful to hear.

Another thought struck me. Hard. They have no choice but to go along with whatever Nate and I decide. How would I feel if that were me?

That's an easy answer: I'd hate it. I'd hate feeling that my fate was in someone else's hands, that I have no options but to follow someone else.

And I've been dragging her along without taking that into consideration. Sure, I've talked to her about what we were doing, but that was only to update her on the decisions I made. The closest I've come to asking whether she was comfortable with the course of action I'd decided on was when we talked about going to Sanctuary. She must feel so utterly helpless. I know I would. I did. Tossed around by everyone else, no control over what would happen, just waiting to see who would make the next decision. I guess I'm still in that position to an extent.

"I'm sorry", I said with a shrug, "I don't know what else to do." And wasn't that the truth. I let Julian get captured, and now I'm grasping for straws.

Cassandra's expression melted into confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to get Julian back. The best I can come up with is using the Institute for help. If I attack them on my own, they might kill him." I shrugged again. "We can take you to Sanctuary if you want, or if you know of somewhere else you'd rather be. I don't think it would be safe for you in the city."

A moment of relative silence fell over the three of us as the girl squinted at me. Thomas looked confused, like he wasn't sure what was going on, which is fair.

"Do you think it's safe for us here?" she asked eventually.

"As much as anywhere else."

"Okay", she nodded, "we'll stay then."

I cocked my head. "You're- trusting me? After what happened?"

"Yeah. No one else would have gotten us this far. Without you we'd be-" she shuddered. "Yeah, I'm trusting you."

And that, despite everything, all that had gone wrong, sent a flutter through my chest. It was an odd feeling, like at least a portion of the massive weight bearing down on me had been lifted. I've felt this elation before, but not often.

It made me- well I think the best word I can use to describe it is: happy.

"Thank you."

Notes:

Well that's done. This was a difficult chapter to write; the gravity of what happened hit both of our heroes like a battering ram, but they both know, if nothing else, they have to keep moving. Damon is going through a lot of conflicting emotions at the moment (obviously) and Nate is dealing with the realization he has some pretty severe PTSD. The hardest part for me was, if I were in that position, I think everything would feel almost surreal, like I didn't want to acknowledge it happened. That's the sensation I was trying to get across but, as Damon keeps saying, he has a job to do, even now (and even if that 'job' has changed). Everyone here is going through a lot of struggle and growth, and I hope I'm getting that across well. I hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave a comment! Until next time.

Chapter 22: The Road to Hell

Notes:

Hellooooo everybody and welcome back! We've got some complicated emotions running around now, and the last few chapters have been hard on our group here. The BOS is now an open enemy, they aren't allowed in either of the major settlements, and Julian is gone. Lucky for them, they still have a few options. This one was interesting to write because, obviously, the story has to keep moving, but those emotions don't just go away, especially with how deep rooted those issues are in our heroes' lives. But I think that's enough rambling, leave a review to let me know what you think and, as always, enjoy!

As I sat in our temporary haven, a large shed in the sparsely 'populated' outskirts of what was Boston 200 years ago, I wondered if walking, and most likely fighting, on a sprained knee was a good idea. The damaged joint was throbbing in time with my heartbeat, lances of pain shooting up my leg along with it. My suit's gel layer had compressed it to keep the swelling down, but the pain was still aggravating. Throughout our slow, arduous march I'd done my best to compensate for the compromised joint, but there's no doing that in a fight.

My armor's first aid system hadn't informed me of any severe ligament damage, it was probably just a bad sprain. It would heal on its own in a few days. Until then… hopefully we didn't have to deal with anything demanding.

My knee wasn't the only problem. The pace over our 15 kilometer hike had been painfully slow. It was bad enough even Nate was getting impatient around the eighth time we turned to backtrack.

To minimize the risk of picking up a tail, we'd used the mostly collapsed subway system to exit the city, with Deacon's guidance. Once it deposited us near the edge of the city proper, there was a kilometer of suburban landscape to cover before entering the 'countryside'. There was always the risk of picking up a tail later, and it would be easier for them to watch us from a distance, but in bad situations, you can only control what you can control.

We made it a few klicks into the desolate landscape around the city by the time the sun had set, and continued on for another hour before finally stopping. I'd have preferred to keep going, but Nate didn't have night vision and, as much as I didn't like it, my knee was bothering me enough to oblige. Besides, the more I rest it, the faster it will heal, and I've never been one for that macho bullshit. If I'm not at 100%, my operational effectiveness is degraded, and that's a larger blow to my pride than admitting I'm injured.

And now I'm here, sitting in what's left of a shed large enough to be considered a barn, surrounded by rusted shelves, tools, what looked like it had been a large farming vehicle, and rotted wooden boxes, buried in my own thoughts.

My mind kept replaying the instant the Brotherhood soldier rammed me, sending up both tumbling from the Vertibird. What could I have done differently? There's always- always some way to do things better…

I couldn't find one though. That soldier, and the one I'd thrown out on their own, both committed to removing me from the VTOL, and in that close a space, there was no way to avoid them.

The answer was simple then: I needed to dig further back. Wherever I screwed the pooch wasn't in the bird, it was before that. How far bad did I need to go? What would I need to correct? There were so many variables… how am I supposed to narrow it down?

The silence pervading our shelter was deafening; I wasn't the only one wallowing in guilt.

Usually this would be the point Nate would say "can I ask you something", and I'd do my best to give him an answer that would get him off my back without revealing too much. Now though, he was sitting opposite me, staring at his lap. Not having him pester me with annoying questions felt… odd. What could he have done though? That kind of fight-

No. That's bullshit. He isn't a SPARTAN, but that doesn't matter.

How does it not-

Because he feels he should have done something. He probably could have too. Maybe not during the ambush, but the same way I needed to do something different along the way, Nate probably feels he could have as well. He's probably running the last few weeks back in his head trying to find something to change. I'm not doing him any favors by trying to absolve him of blame, he wouldn't appreciate it and it would be disrespectful to how much he's put into this.

… Right. He had taken it upon himself to act as the public relations portion of our program. In many ways, that was probably the better option for a situation like this. Does that mean I should have listened to him more? That I should have followed his lead? Was that my mistake?

The ex-soldier finally looked up at me. "How's your knee?" The question was robotic, almost like he was asking out of some habitual courtesy.

"Fine."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Two days after falling from a Vertibird and it's fine? You're fine?" Some of his customary sarcasm found its way into the question.

That wasn't very far. My mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. I remembered one drop in particular: a solo insertion with an SOEIV drop pod that had malfunctioned. It blew its chute, but the brakes didn't fire, so instead of slowing over the final 50 meters, the pod began accelerating again.

The onboard computer said I hit the ground at about 45 meters per second, close to a regular human's terminal velocity. The pod's hatch was warped so badly, the explosive bolts only half worked. Once the partially blown hatch stopped spinning, I broke it the rest of the way off. That turned out to be a mistake. I had several severe muscle strains, a ruptured kidney, and was bleeding internally.

Still finished the operation though, once my armor's then fully functional facilities stabilized the injuries. That had been the assassination of a group of United Rebel Front leaders. I think there were… five? Pretty sure I had a concussion too. But between them and their security details, I think that had been one of my most 'successful' deployments. Per ONI.

Yet healthy, I couldn't save one goddamn kid from a group that wouldn't register on the URF's radar.

And continuing to berate myself won't help. How do I get him back? How do I keep it from happening again?

I did a lot wrong. Where did I need to change to do that?

Nate's stare drew me out of my musings. He was still waiting for an answer.

"I'm fine. My knee is going to be a problem for a few days, but I can work around it."

The ex-soldier scoffed. "As usual, I find myself wondering how someone would make somethi- one like you."

"A lot of training and a few hundred years of technological advancement."

That drew a small smile out of him. "Right."

I climbed stiffly to my feet, the MedX injection pens sitting in the pouch on my waist feeling more and more enticing.

"Let me know if we're getting shot at", Nate said as I began walking toward the hole that used to be the shed's door.

That night and the next day were just as arduous and boring as the first, trudging through the remains of a forest full of dead trees, rocky outcroppings, the occasional sickly looking stream, and a whole lot of dried dirt. Sometimes a house or small neighborhood would break the monotony, but those were few and far between. To be fair, boring was probably good considering the circumstances. On a few occasions, more of those giant hairless rats, a pack of dogs, or something of the sort would attack. Firing a weapon, while not uncommon out here where every so often a distant burst of gunfire would sound, was a great way to draw attention. So Nate and I dealt with the infrequent encounters the old fashioned way. Guy's handy with a knife, I'll give him that.

We wound up stopping in a small collection of houses for the night, less than five klicks from our target. As much as I wanted to keep going, with how slow we were moving it would be another hour and a half, all at night. It still felt strange to think moving in the dark is a bad thing.

As with the first night, Nate remained quiet. He took watch for a few hours to allow me at least some sleep. It didn't come easily. Nightmares have never been an issue, but they were that night. More of the same: the Covenant attack, a few fleeting memories from my earlier operations, and the Brotherhood ambush.

By the time Nate came back in, I was tired of trying to sleep. The next day couldn't come soon enough. Odd thing was I didn't know why. Sure, the sooner we get to this R&D facility, the sooner we figure out if it has what we need, the sooner we get back.

But then what?

I don't even know if what we're planning is possible. What if the teleporter doesn't work? What if it does and the Institute decides it has better things to do? I'm used to dealing with variables, it's why I always put contingencies in place, but now… I've got nothing. I have no backup plan for a primary I don't know will work. And all of this to save someone for no other reason than I want- no… that isn't right, need to save. Hell, getting to the Institute was barely a matter of returning to my own reality at this point. It was in the radar, but the more pressing matter is rescuing Julian.

I almost smiled. My comfort zone was long gone.

An hour and a half after restarting our march, the sun was separating itself from the mutilated ghost of Boston's skyline to our east, and we were studying our query from the cover of a small group of houses. It was a wide, squat building situated in the center of a very large neighborhood and looked like any other research center I'd seen on the colonies that had the pleasure of my visits. Two stories, at least 100 meters a side, and besides the portions crumbling into dust, featureless. This area was devastated just like everywhere else in this hellhole, but because of the low buildings situated in rolling hills about 40 kilometers away from the impact, it wasn't as bad.

Most of the houses surrounding the large building were half collapsed, but more recognizable than many of the ones I've seen so far. Our target itself was largely intact, probably shielded by the multitude of houses to the south that took the brunt of the hit.

"I got offered a job here a few years before- you know", Nate said quietly. "Paid good, not as good as Nora, but good enough."

I glanced at him. The smaller man crouched next to me had the same forlorn look on his face I saw every time he discussed his life before this humanity blew itself to hell. He noticed my gaze and shrugged.

"Hard not to think about it, you know. Shit… that was only, what, a month and a half ago for me? 200 years. More. Sometimes- sometimes it still sucks." He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, don't mean to get off mission."

The ex-soldier looked back at our objective to the north, fighting anguish for control over his features.

He gave me an out, one I normally didn't need. He knew my MO well enough to know I didn't appreciate distractions while in the field.

Normally.

Now though, the look of helplessness was something that dug deep. Strange enough, my mind was pulled to the endless nights Fourier, Amanda, and Liam all put into socializing with me, even when- especially when I avoided the rest of the IVs. Which was most days. Why? Did I feel bad? At the time it aggravated the hell out of me. I knew each one of them knew I'd rather be alone, but they continued trying. Did they feel bad for me? No… I never felt pity. It was something else.

As much as that annoyed me, after what's happened… I understand why they did it. And now- it would be a welcome relief.

"I get it."

Is this what he meant when he said 'I get it', after the Gunners ambushed us? The solitude on his face, separated from his family, and everything he knew. I've known about it since the moment I met him, but after everything that's happened over the last two weeks, especially a few days ago… there's a difference between knowing something and feeling it.

Nate's eyes went wide, and he slowly, almost reluctantly tore his gaze from the building in front of us.

"What?"

He's going to make a big deal out of this.

"Feeling lonely. Detached. I get it."

He nodded slowly, face still locked in a surprised stare. I couldn't blame him; this was certainly strange.

"I guess you would", he finally said. The smaller man sighed as he turned back to the large building. "Do you think we'll get to the Institute?"

I followed his gaze. "Too many unknowns to say."

He grunted. "You could lie sometimes you know."

"You're the one who said I have terrible bedside manner."

He responded with a low chuckle. "You said 'you'll be fine' as you plugged a hole in my chest."

"I didn't lie then either."

I lied when I told Cassandra I'd get Julian back though.

True, but the question is am I lying now? I hate not knowing. I hate not having enough information to predict what would happen, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting that information.

To that end, it's time to get back on mission. "What do you know about this place?"

"They made a lot of specialized equipment, usually government contracts." Nate looked down at the bulky device on his wrist. "The circuit board assemblies and capacitors shouldn't be difficult to find, if they've survived. The antenna array and PLC though… that's got me worried."

If this place housed such valuable equipment, I can't imagine it would have been left alone after 200 years, but it's possible. In a post-apocalyptic wasteland, sensitive electrical components wouldn't be on someone's shopping list for daily survival. Hell, someone would be more likely to scrap whatever they found now I think about it. If that's a risk though, we need to be sure the area's clear before we move in. Especially since this would be an HVT for the Brotherhood.

"I'll stay here", the smaller man said. He must have been thinking the same. "I'd rather keep eyes on the southern approach while you recon. I don't feel like getting ambushed by the Brotherhood again."

I hesitated. Leaving him alone out here? That wasn't my idea of playing it safe.

He's right; if the Brotherhood attacks, it will probably be from the south.

And that's why he shouldn't be here. If he gets caught out, he's screwed.

So blind myself to a potential attack? Or have him scout the perimeter?

Neither of those were appealing.

He isn't a SPARTAN, I'm not going to get that type of support here, I need to start using what I have and deal with the complications.

"Agreed." I slipped the sniper rifle's sling off my shoulder and offered it. I can handle myself without the large caliber weapon; he'll need the extra firepower if the Brotherhood do make a house call.

The ex-soldier eyed me incredulously, but took it after a quiet moment. "If you insist." He collected the extra magazines before I left the small, dilapidated house.

It didn't take long to find signs of traffic. 20 minutes later, after I'd circled through the devastated neighborhood surrounding our target to the north end, I spotted a path cleared through the rubble, broken wood siding, and trash into one of the building's entrances. Problem was it was all so wind eroded, and the ground still caked with pieces of the large research center, and destroyed houses, there's no telling when it was moved. At the very least it meant we would have to be cautious.

That was the only one though. Over the next half hour, I didn't find any other external signs of habitation, which was promising and worrying. Either no one was here, or whoever was made sure not to leave tracks.

All the while, I was vigilant for any other forces, especially the Brotherhood. I was being paranoid and I knew it; the only people who would come here would be after us and the likelihood the Brotherhood would try again after their first attempt was low.

But I'm not getting caught off guard again.

By the time I circled back around to Nate, I was comfortable saying no obvious indications of occupation threw up any red flags. That isn't to say there wasn't anyone inside.

We moved through the crumbling neighborhood, full of destroyed houses, dead trees, and cracked streets to one of the many holes in the building's exterior. Nate had gotten better over the past few weeks, but his footsteps still fell too heavily in the near silence draped over the devastated suburb. I still couldn't understand how people, with regular shoes and unencumbered, could produce louder footsteps than me and my heavy, titanium armored boots in almost a half ton of armor.

That being said, mine still weren't up to my normal standards. Thank my knee for that. It was more stiff than anything now, but it still didn't let me move like I wanted, or usually do.

After a quick check for any traps, I slipped inside and scanned the surprisingly intact interior. Sure, most of the walls were crumbling from disrepair, and the ceiling tiles were scattered across the floor, but they were still recognizable as such. This place had survived a near nuclear strike pretty damn well.

With the early morning sun trickling through the dilapidated exterior walls, it was bright enough to see without NVS. The place looked like it could have been any of the various administrative buildings or research centers I've been in. What was left of the walls, floor, and ceiling were white washed and, despite their decrepit state, still held onto some of their sterile atmosphere.

As we crept through the building, through several office spaces, what looked like a small production lab, maybe for prototyping, and what might have been a cafeteria, I was starting to feel better about our chances. Most of the equipment was still intact, and might have even functioned.

That was also a problem.

Nate had been here on a meet and greet, but he hadn't toured the massive facility, so we'd be searching the old fashioned way. With only two of us, there's no way we'd be able to secure it either. With that in mind, before getting any further into this search, we need to check the building for any occupants smart enough to hide their tracks.

"You know what would make this easier", Nate said as we stopped in a crumbling room that, at one point about 200 years ago, had been a common area, "if they have an inventory catalog."

Yes, that would certainly help but… "You think something like that would still work?" It was technically a question, but I didn't ask it like one. I've seen a lot of crazy shit since coming here, but a computer working after hundreds of years of disuse would probably be the best so far.

"I do… sort of remember their administrative offices. If there's a working computer, and their servers are still up, we might get lucky." He glanced around the dilapidated walls that, while now yellow with weathering and age, were easy to imagine as their white washed, sterile former selves. "Would be a good idea to take a look around first and make sure we're alone."

Either the ex-soldier was just as skeptical about our chances as I was, or he was as paranoid as I was. The suggestion worked for me regardless. "Agreed."

Stalking down another hall, I glanced behind me at the smaller man. He wouldn't admit it, but I got the feeling the ex-soldier's mental state was… fragile at the moment. Nate held it together during the ambush, but combining the stress of that with how close we were to getting to his son, any potential gunfight could trigger another episode. Aside from it complicating the mission, if it did happen during a battle, it could get him killed.

"How are you feeling?"

He looked at me, confused. "What do you mean? My wife's dead, my son is kidnapped, we let the Brotherhood get Julian, and now we're off chasing a hope and a prayer to fix two of those things. Other than that I'm peachy."

Sarcasm. The more time I spend with him, the easier it is to identify when he's being a smartass, and when he's hiding something.

"Your episode with the Supermutants."

"Oh", the smaller man trailed off. He hesitated a moment, expression melting from confusion to concern. It was only a few seconds before he shook himself like he was getting rid of a bad memory. "I'll deal with it."

"If-"

"I'll deal with it", he snapped.

It was my turn to hesitate. I- do I have the right to say anything? I almost attacked him during one of my own. The moment had rattled Nate, but he moved on anyway.

"Sorry." My attention snapped back to the smaller man. He looked at me, apologetic. "You asked me to trust you, all I'm asking is you do the same. I just need some time to figure it out."

Some time to figure it out… That's always it, isn't it?

I nodded.

"Thanks."

It wasn't until we searched both the western and southern wings of the facility before we ran into a problem. It wasn't the problem I was expecting.

"Ma'am", Nate said from behind me, desperation tinging the edge of his voice, "please, put the gun down, we're just looking for something." Knowing him, he was worried I'd put a laser through her head. If she tried anything stupid, I'll probably prove him right.

The woman in question was taller, with dishevelled brown hair, a gaunt, wide eyed stare, wearing a heavy jacket and what might have been the chestplate from a Gunner's combat armor.

She was also leveling a bolt action rifle at me.

It was about a minute and a half ago, searching through the massive research center, when I found a tripline wired to an IED set behind a closed door. It was a good position because, as far as I could tell, that door was the only passage between the southern wing of the facility, and the eastern wing. Unfortunately for whoever set it, the great position was let down by a poorly made improvised device. The explosive was set up from the backside, with almost no slack in the wire, but the trigger was too stiff which meant I felt the resistance as I tried to push the door open.

That also meant whoever had set it was probably in the eastern wing.

Unable to disarm the trap from that side, I slipped out of the building and, after finding a pressure triggered mine beneath another hole in the exterior wall, I entered the eastern wing and cut the wire. Nate was looking around, more thoughtful than alarmed when he swung the door open.

It was only a moment longer, creeping through the dilapidated interior before we happened across a barricaded hall, and our current situation.

"Wh- why are you here? What are you looking for?" the terrified woman asked. Her voice was trembling. "How did you get past my traps?"

That probably meant she wasn't looking for a fight.

Nate tried to edge around me but I barred his path with my off arm. I wasn't taking any risks.

I felt the ex-soldier shoot me an irritated glare, but he continued after the short pause. "We just need parts for something we're building."

Her eyes, and gun, never left me.

"Why did you come here?"

"This is the only place we know of that might have what we need."

"And what is that?" The squatter's voice was slowly becoming less terrified, more accusatory.

"Some specialized equipment."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Nate grunted. "What would you do with specifics?"

"Anyone can say they're here for 'specialized equipment'. That's an easy excuse."

I frowned inside my helmet. Her request made sense, but I wasn't going to share mission objectives with a stranger just because she's suspicious.

"Why would we come to the middle of nowhere just to find you, are you someone people want to kill?" He must have been thinking the same thing.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"So that's a 'yes' someone is trying to kill you."

Her silence was all the confirmation either of us needed.

"Look." I know that tone, and that start. He loves using me as a bargaining chip. Just like ONI... "If we were trying to kill you, do you think we'd be standing here talking about it?"

The woman's eyes still hadn't left me. "Who are you?"

"We're just strangers passing through. Once we find what we need we're gone."

"No", she motioned with her rifle, "metal man, who are you?"

I should expect it by now, but it's still aggravating to have the same question directed at me over and over again.

"Someone you don't need to worry about as long as you don't interfere."

She huffed, but after another heartbeat, the woman lowered her rifle. "Fine. There's nothing over here worth having, so stay out of my home."

"Understood", Nate said, his relief palpable. "What about your traps?"

"You aren't searching this area, so you don't need to worry about them." She paused. "Which ones did you disable?"

My companion began to answer, but I cut him off with a wave. Turnabout is fair play.

"Go", I said, waving back down the hall. "We'll stay away from you as long as you do the same. We'll be gone in a few days."

The disheveled woman didn't look like she appreciated the answer, but she should have considered herself lucky; a few months ago I probably wouldn't have tolerated the risk she posed. Now… well I guess some things really can change.

X

I'm sick of digging through this goddamn place. If the Covenant do exist here, I wouldn't mind them glassing this part of this reality.

Two days of searching and we found almost everything we needed by the end of the first day. Nate was dead on with his guess about their catalog (somehow). It showed this place had the parts Tom had requested when the bombs dropped. Problem is, it didn't say where in the facility they are, and we haven't been able to find the antenna array. Yesterday was wasted against a ticking clock, and now we're still digging through piles of rubble.

Our current 'project' was clearing out another one of the small production labs. It was the fourth one that day, and the sunlight spilling through the crumbling ceiling and walls was tinged orange. As it turns out, this building is, or was, home to several different companies under the same banner, so they all had their own facilities. Of course.

Nate seemed almost as annoyed as I was, shoving what might have been a robotic arm out of the way forcefully enough for the already half collapsed pedestal it was on to surrender its hopeless struggle. The contraption crumbled into a plume of dust and the ex-soldier swore as he stood, putting his hands on his hips.

"This equipment all looks wrong. They make antenna with soldering irons, not TIG welders." He looked at me, the expression on the smaller man's face just as frustrated as I felt. "I'm ready to call it a day."

As much as I didn't want to stop, that was the right decision. We'd been at it since the sun broke over the broken city 14 hours ago. I wasn't tired, but I was irritated, and that isn't good when you're looking for extremely sensitive equipment.

"No objections."

We left the production lab and headed for the small break room we'd established as our temporary shelter. We still had time, Tom said one to two weeks, and I've realized when most people give you an estimate like that, they mean the higher end. My anxiety stemmed from leaving Cassandra and Thomas alone with the Railroad. We've been away for four days now, only searched about two thirds of this place, and still have a two day hump back. It would be going a lot faster if the building wasn't such a massive mess, but the nuclear apocalypse had something to say about that.

"They're fine", Nate whispered, almost too soft for me to hear. "The Railroad needs our help, and they don't want to be on your bad side." It sounded like he was talking to himself. After another step he turned to look up at me. "Did we do the right thing, leaving them there?"

I'd been asking myself that same question every moment since we left. My mind kept replying 'yes' and logically, it was probably the correct answer. But still… there's a difference between leaving them somewhere safe, and being there to protect them.

"We didn't have another choice. They're safe for now", I said with more confidence than I felt. Nate needed some form of reassurance, and if it helped at least one of us get more comfortable with the decision, that's enough for now.

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

So much for that.

"Kind of."

"What happened to that 'I don't lie' thing."

I cocked my head at the smaller man as we circumvented a hall that had collapsed to the point of impassibility. "I never said I don't lie, and I didn't. You aren't the only one with doubts."

"Fair-"

I held my hand up to cut him off. I'd heard… something just on the edge of my helmet's gain.

Nate fell quiet and I turned my audio up-

There. A dull scraping coming from the west. It was definitely inside, and considering how far into the structure we are, it wouldn't be wind.

Pointing at where my ears would be, I motioned to the wall on the west side of the room. The ex-soldier nodded and checked his rifle. I didn't miss the subtle shake in his left hand as he did. It hasn't been a week since his episode, or since the Brotherhood's ambush; I couldn't blame him for being nervous.

He took a moment to compose himself, disguised as readying his already readied rifle. It was probably more for his benefit than mine. The muted scraping sounds were far enough away, we weren't in any immediate danger, but I still wanted to get moving. The more time we had to prepare, the better.

After 20 seconds, he grunted and nodded at me. We began toward an intersection just down the hall-

And Nate stopped before we could make it a half dozen paces. I was willing to accommodate him to a point, but this isn't the right time to take a break. If he wasn't up to another potential fight, I can handle it myself.

"Damon", he whispered, "hold up."

"It's fine. Go back to the-"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not worried about me. We don't know who's here or what they want. Killing them might be the wrong move."

Killing them might be the wrong move? They're a potential threat.

A potential threat doesn't mean anything. Maybe this is one of those parts I should change my approach?

Why?

Didn't I say I should trust Nate more?

He doesn't know they aren't a threat.

I don't know they are.

The thought ran back and forth in my head as I considered it. With ONI, I inserted, accomplished my objective, and left. Most Innies didn't have the resources to hit back at the outfit. That's different now.

Disarm and subdue. I can interrogate them once they're pacified, without killing them.

"I know."

"So… what's the plan?"

I've captured plenty of people before. That isn't the issue… what is then? I find out they're here for us, I kill them.

"Observe, wait until they're vulnerable."

"I mean how are you going to do this without killing them?"

Now we're back to him asking about everything I do. Trusting the smaller man, and running every single action by him were two different things. "Carefully."

Nate frowned. "I- fine, sorry. What do you want me to do?"

In tight quarters? Without knowing where they're going, trying to bracket them was a bad idea. By the same token, sending Nate back to our makeshift quarters was too risky.

Besides, I doubt he'd let me leave him behind.

"Stay close, be quiet."

He nodded. The smaller man looked relieved of all things.

Thanks for the vote of confidence…

It didn't take long to find our mystery guests. After stalking through the countless halls that made up this maze of a building for five minutes or so, we came to another four way intersection. Most of the walls had collapsed and the ceiling tiles were scattered across the floor in pieces. The only source of light in the area was the waning orange glow filtering through the breaks in the ceiling. I took that as a positive.

When I noticed movement at the far end of the western passage, the uneven light playing across the crumbling interior made it almost impossible to see, but the reverse was also true. I'd be willing to bet I noticed them long before they would notice me.

There were four in the corridor, maybe 15 meters away, slowly trudging toward us. They were trying to keep their steps quiet, but like everyone it seemed, they had an inability to do so. A fifth and sixth rounded the far corner to join them and it was pretty obvious these people weren't here to scavenge. Every one of them had a combat rifle and sturdy (for this world) looking armor. The lead man was wearing hard armor similar to the Gunners, but it was painted black instead of green. Their spacing was also good, or at least as good as it could be in the tight confines of the building.

Six? This couldn't be all of it if someone was here for me. This wasn't Brotherhood, they wouldn't worry about stealth, they'd be coming in hot and heavy. This wasn't Diamond City or Goodneighbor guards either, they're armament was all wrong. Who else wants me dead? Kleo? If these are her men, or another group of mercenaries, that was certainly possible.

Another appeared at the far end of the hall and, as the lead man closed to a little more than 10 meters, I waved Nate backwards. If I want to do this non-lethally, this corridor isn't going to work; I'd like something that gives me access to the center of their group.

We stalked them through the large building for the better part of 15 minutes before I found something suitable for an ambush. There were a few nervous moments when Nate's lack of covert experience almost revealed us, like when the group split and began down two parallel corridors and he failed to notice. I had to pull him back into a small, dilapidated break room with several very old looking tables and chairs, and we slipped to the other side before they made us.

For their part, this group wasn't bad; they were careful and thorough checking their surroundings, maintained good tactical spacing, and had halfway decent non-verbal communication. They weren't surprisingly well equipped Raiders.

My chosen location was outside one of the small labs we had sorted through the day before. It was connected to halls running parallel to its north and south, and they'd funneled themselves into the southern one. They'd clear the room, usually sending four people in, half their contingent. That was sound tactics. It would also give me the opportunity to pounce.

I waited just inside the lab as their not quite quiet footsteps approached.

The first one entered, clearing his corners, closely followed by a second. Then the third and fourth. If the room hadn't been such a mess, tables and equipment scattered everywhere, they would have spotted me immediately. As it was, it wasn't until the final man entered the room when one of them rounded the lab station I was using as cover.

That one, their lead man wearing hard combat armor, didn't have time to register me before my coiled legs unwound and I drove my right shoulder into his chest. The impact sent him sprawling across the room and into the second. An instant later, they both careened into a half collapsed wall and I was on the other two.

Neither lasted long. The first, a shorter woman with an expression that was a mix between surprise and fear, tried to bring her rifle around. I batted it aside and planted a straight kick into the armor plate over her chest. The blow sent her tumbling back through the door and into the hall

The last guy, well-built and stock tried to take a swipe at me with the butt of his rifle. Man… his torso was wide open. One good hit and his ribcage would be splinters.

But I'm not here to kill them. Yet.

I grabbed his left arm and chest plate. With a sharp twist, I hurled him back toward the recovering men I'd sent into the wall. The resulting yelps and tangle of limbs meant they were probably down for at least a little while.

Those three temporarily handled, I surged into the hall-

And a round careened by my left shoulder. I dropped into a crouch as the fighter in front of me struggled to track my movement. They had retreated from the door instead of rushing in. That was an interesting maneuver, and not one most would have the discipline to make. It's a give and take, you're almost certainly condemning your people to death, but it also meant you weren't sending the rest into a potential ambush to die alongside them.

My legs coiled and I leapt forward. The man's next shot skimmed over my back, my shields flaring. A shoulder to the right side of his chest catapulted him into the wall.

I didn't slow as I bore down on the next two who were trying to draw a bead on me. One saw what I was doing and hurriedly scrambled sideways, but he was too slow. I whipped my left leg out and it collided with his. The man screamed as he toppled to the ground while his partner, a taller woman, squeezed a shot off. The bullet went wide, hitting the ceiling behind me and my momentum carried me into and through her.

The last man fired the instant my seventh target crashed to the debris strewn floor. His first shot hit me dead center in the chest, but I was on top of him before he could squeeze off another.

This one I didn't hit. Instead, as he tried to swipe at me with his rifle, I caught his left arm and twisted. Careful to leave him mostly unmarred, I wrenched him around and pulled it behind his back as he dropped the weapon.

I turned to find two of the downed fighters in the hallway struggling unsteadily to their feet. The woman I'd straight kicked through the door was unconscious and the man I'd kicked was cradling his leg-

It was bent at a very unnatural angle. Well… I guess it's better than the alternative.

"Enough", I barked as my hostage struggled uselessly in my grasp. "Who's in charge?"

"Me", the man I was restraining half yelped.

My other victims were staring at me, uncertain, but weapons at the ready. "Stand down."

"Boss?" The woman asked. She was favoring her left side, but still had her rifle aimed at me the best she could.

"Who the hell are you?" my hostage asked, doing his best to preserve at least some of his dignity. I had his arm turned far enough the socket was straining to keep his shoulder in place.

"You don't ask questions. Stand down."

"I don't think so. Eight on one?" He was bluffing and he knew I knew it.

The man groaned as I tightened my grip. "Eight that could very easily be dead." My patience was almost at its end; I had to check my right hand as it shifted, moving closer to my rifle's grip. "I'm only saying this once more: stand down."

He cleared his throat. The man knew he only had two options, the question was would he let his pride get his people killed?

"Fine", he said, voice strained, "fine, put 'em down."

There was only an instant's hesitation before the two lowered their weapons. They were certainly disciplined.

"In there", I nodded to the room where the other three were. "Bring the wounded."

I kept my hostage as insurance while the other two gathered the crippled man and unconscious woman. A minute later, they and the three men, two dazed and one out, were gathered in the small, ruined lab. They were up against the western wall as I policed their weapons and double checked for any more threats before calling "clear."

Nate's careful footsteps sounded from the east end of the hall and he joined us a moment later. The surprise on his face as he studied the eight men and women was only half faked. His eyes landed on the man whose tibia and fibula were in two pieces.

"That guy… is probably gonna need surgery to fix that", he said, "but I'm impressed. No one's dead this time."

He caught my gaze, eyes narrowed slightly. So that's the play.

I shrugged.

"Yeah, I know you would have preferred a more permanent solution, but if we can wringe some answers out of them it'll be worth it."

"Ask your questions."

The ex-soldier held his hands up to say 'whatever' and turned to my captives. "First question: why are you here?"

"I-" the leader glanced from me, to Nate, then to his people, and back. "No use lying is there?"

"Probably not."

He sighed. "We're on contract. I think that would be pretty obvious if Curie hired you for security."

My mind stopped and started again. What? Curie? The woman? Why would- The memory of our first and only meeting with the short term roommate came to mind. She'd clearly been worried about being hunted down, and the woman practically admitted someone had a price on her head. I guess it's just a coincidence we happened to be here when it happened.

Nate seemed surprised too, and the mercenary picked up on his hesitation.

"Did you… not know? Why else would she pay however the hell much someone like you must charge to keep people like us away?" He frowned. "Unless you aren't her guards."

We shared a glance. It was a little late to lie about this, and he knew it.

"No… we aren't", Nate said slowly.

Now it was our captive's turn to look confused. "Wait, why are you here then? And why did you attack us?"

"No." The ex-soldier shook his head. "We're just passing through."

A moment of silence fell over the lab before the mercenary burst into laughter. His people were staring at him incredulously.

"Are you shitting me? Just passing through? That's some goddamn bad luck if I've ever seen it." He looked at me. "Who the hell are you supposed to be? Been around the block and I've never seen anything like you before."

"Not your concern."

"Before you ask anything else", Nate interjected, "he isn't going to answer any questions. Not really his thing." He grunted. "So you were here for Curie. Who hired you?"

The man shrugged. "I'm not in the habit of giving out client information. And don't threaten me with torture or death. Your buddy already said if he wanted to kill us, he would have."

My companion winced and cast a worried glance at me that wasn't entirely for show. "If you could not tempt him, that would make my life a lot easier. He wanted to kill you. I think he still does." That wasn't wrong.

"Right", the mercenary scoffed.

It may be infantile, but his flippancy when I had to restrain myself was getting on my nerves.

"Uh, no, that wasn't meant to be a threat." The concern on the edge of Nate's voice was genuine now. "We- look, whatever, you wanted to kill Curie, you aren't doing that now. All I want in return for letting you live is you keep your mouth shut about seeing us."

An amused smile spread across the mercenary leader's face, and too late both of us realized that was a bad idea. Nate just gave them leverage.

"I will kill you to keep that information from spreading", I said before he could respond.

He waved a hand dismissively. "I've been threatened with death so many times it's lost its shine." He paused for a moment, studying me. "So you have someone looking for you too, huh? Looking at that armor, I'm gonna guess Brotherhood or Institute. Plenty of people would wanna get their hands on it, but not many have the hardware to do it." He chuckled. The man was talking way too much. He was clearly smart, and that meant he was dangerous.

"We won't tell anyone. We're alive, I guess I owe you something for that."

That kind of promise is something I've never put stock in. I have no recourse if they don't hold up their end, and I won't know they didn't until someone shoots me. There's one thing I can promise them.

"I'm very good at finding people." I held his gaze just long enough to make the mercenary think before stepping away.

The mercenary leader's eyes widened a fraction with surprise before he smiled again. This time it was gratitude. The others were just as relieved. "I don't wanna fight you when it's permanent, so that's a deal."

A few minutes later, after the two unconscious members of their party reawakened, they gathered their equipment, helped the injured man out, and were gone, leaving the building in relative silence.

Did I do the right thing? Letting them go? Sure, they said they wouldn't tell anyone, and even if they did, we'd be long gone before a threat showed up. But still… it was an added risk.

The way I've been handling risks hasn't worked thus far.

Or maybe things would be even worse if I'd handled them differently.

How? I've essentially accomplished the bare minimum: not make enemies out of the people absolutely necessary to get to the Institute.

We're here aren't we? We have a contact, we were able to use the Brotherhood to get the resources and information we needed-

And I lost Julian.

I didn't have a response to that. It felt like, despite succeeding in my 'mission' I still failed somehow. I… would I rather have Julian than a lead on the Institute?

That was an easy question to answer.

"Thanks", Nate said, his voice bursting the silence that had draped itself over the evening air.

Thanks… thanks for not killing them?

"They weren't here for us. They're still a risk."

The smaller man shook his head. "Jesus- can you just take the goddamn gratitude? For once?"

Gratitude...

I met his gaze and nodded.

He peered past me, at the eastern wall of the small lab. "You think talking with… Curie? is a good idea?"

"She might know who hired them."

The smaller man shrugged. "Makes sense. And I kinda want to know why they're after her too. No wonder she was so cautious about us when we got here."

We needed to be careful. She wouldn't be in the mood to talk, and who the hell knows what other traps are still lying in wait. Speaking to her was a must after this though. Knowing who might have hired them to kill her wasn't just about an insurance policy; a large, experienced, well equipped group like that couldn't be cheap, and I doubt many people around here can or would drop that kind of money unless someone really pissed them off.

"Don't step on an IED."

He shot me a bemused frown. "Thanks for the advice." After a short pause a small smile crossed his face. "You know, you're still an asshole, but at least you're a good humored asshole now. Kinda." The frown returned. "You know… I need to hear it, why didn't you kill those guys? Don't take that the wrong way, I appreciate it… but what changed?"

What changed? A lot has changed, but this specifically…? "What I've been doing hasn't worked. Obviously." My eyes fell to the ground between my boots as the image of Julian being pulled away- taken from me flashed through my mind. The hurt, desperate expression twisting Cassandra's face outside of the service tunnels when I finally worked up the nerve to meet her gaze. "I can't let that happen again, so I'm going to do whatever I have to to keep you three safe and get Julian back. If I have to change how I do things, so be it."

When I found Nate's gaze again, I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't the quiet, calm understanding I found. Was I expecting to see surprise maybe? Or relief? Did he expect this?

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. He understands, he's satisfied, keep going.

"Let's move."

The smaller man watched me a moment longer before nodding. "Okay."

We began making our way through the tattered building. Once we crossed into the eastern wing, I found a few traps along the way. They were generally well placed, but easy to disable. After a few minutes of searching, we found her. The woman was barricaded in a small room at the end of a long and narrow hall that looked like it may have been a maintenance closet. The walls were still relatively intact, and probably reinforced. It was a good choke point. Why hadn't she been there to start?

"You two huh?", Curie called as we settled at the far end of the hallway. Her voice was shaky, but calm enough. "That shooting was you?"

"Yes", Nate called down the passage. "They were after you. Why?"

"There's a price on my head. You gonna try to collect?"

"No, I told you, we would have done that when we first got here. We knew you were worried about someone looking for you, it didn't take a genius to put two and two together."

There was a short pause, just long enough to wonder whether she was thinking about what Nate said, or a way to kill us. I'd done a thorough scan of the immediate area, but considering how well prepared she is, another IED planted in the wall wouldn't be out of the question.

"Why do you want to know then?" the woman finally replied.

"Insurance, just in case those mercenaries tell someone about us. We've got more than a few people chasing us too. We thought they were here for us at first." Nate glanced at me. "We need a lead on them just in case."

"Okay… you want me to buy that, who do you have after you?"

The ex-soldier smirked as I cocked my head. Take your pick.

"The big ones are Diamond City, The Brotherhood of Steel, and The Institute. We've also managed to piss of a bunch of Raiders, Kleo- this Assaultron who ru-"

A loud, almost hysterical laugh exploded from the small room.

"Kleo huh", Curie said after she took a moment to calm down, "you too? What did you do to piss her off?"

Kleo's put a bounty on her? It was my turn to smirk. I guess what Nate told the Gunners who attacked us hit harder than I thought they would; she hired a small outfit to go after this woman instead of them. They must not want to do business with her after our first encounter.

"Took a job from her", Nate said. "We didn't finish it, but as things turn out... she was going to kill us anyway." He looked at me again. "Her men failed, and my friend here took the fight to her. Ended up… causing a mess in Goodneighbor. Now she wants us really dead, but she hasn't tried since the second time."

"Uh huh." She fell silent again, but this one was less tense. It certainly seemed like she wasn't on the verge of trying something anymore.

"Who are you? I mean who are you really? You have that many people after you, all of them have armies they can throw around, and here you are, barging into my home, still taking on fights with new people."

"That's… a long story. We were- are both soldiers. Have been for a long time. You'll forgive me if I don't get into details."

"Yeah, that's fair." She cleared her throat. "So what do you want now? You know there's a price on my head, and you know who's after me."

"Well", Nate replied, casting a glance at me, "if it's alright with you, I'd just like to talk for a while. I have a few questions, and we're going to be here until we finish our search. Might as well at least be cordial."

"Are you going to insist?"

"No… but we've had a rough few days. It would be nice to not worry about someone shooting me in the back for at least a little while."

A low chuckle drifted from the maintenance closet before silence filled the now orange-dyed interior. Did I have much to talk with her about? No, but Nate did have a point: ensuring she wouldn't be a future threat would make searching this place a little less uncomfortable.

That and he probably wanted someone to talk to considering my… lack of conversational skills.

X

For once, I'll admit Nate's aggravating need to socialize with anyone and everyone has its benefits.

Curie turned out to be a Synth, but she hadn't said when or how she'd escaped the Institute. When Nate asked about it, she skirted the question. When he asked about the Railroad, the moment's hesitation before answering said she was hiding something. That wasn't really my concern though; people have secrets, as long as they aren't a security risk, I can respect that.

She'd been in Goodneighbor a while when she, apparently, got on the bad side of everyone's favorite Assaultron. According to her, it was because she decided to go with a different supplier for some equipment she bought despite, as she put it 'strong warnings' from Kleo. She didn't say what that was or what it was for.

Normally I'd call bullshit on a story that benign, but… I'm inclined to believe it with the psychotic robot. There's probably more to that story, but she definitely seemed like the territorial type. The 'equipment' was probably weapons of some sort, but that didn't concern me either.

While all of that was interesting, it isn't why talking to Curie turned out to be a great idea. No, that was because the goddamn antenna array we'd spent the last 40 hours searching for was sitting comfortably in a large, relatively unscathed room it looked like she had set up a lab in.

"I used to work with some… friends to develop new treatments for- well all sorts of diseases that plague us these days", she said when Nate asked. "I wanted to continue doing so in Goodneighbor but, well, Kleo happened. I knew about this place from a trader that comes in from up north, and decided it would be my best bet."

"Why are you staying out here yourself", my companion asked. "Seems a little dangerous, especially now."

The Synth shrugged. "I knew I'd be found eventually. I was hoping my preparations would have been enough. Didn't expect 20 people coming after me." She looked at me. "Thanks for the save by the way."

I nodded.

Nate frowned. "It probably isn't safe to stay here."

"No", Curie said through a sigh, "it isn't." She looked around the room face resigned. "I'll have to find somewhere new."

I exchanged a glance with the smaller man, and I knew he was thinking the same thing: if she's a doctor, Sanctuary could use her. I'm not sure how I felt about using the small settlement as my answer for everything, but sending her there made sense. Well, it made sense provided doing so didn't put them in any more danger than they already are. Besides, the more people they have, the better they'll be able to defend themselves.

My mind flashed to the sickly looking, dying young man tending to the settlement's crops.

If she's working on cures for common ailments, would that include something for acute radiation poisoning?

"There's a small settlement to the west. They could use medical help."

"Oh? What kind of medical help?"

"One of them has acute radiation poisoning. Other than that, they don't have any experienced medical personnel. If you give me a few days, I can take you there."

Curie looked from me to the ex-soldier. He offered a hesitant nod.

"Give me the night to think about it."

Notes:

So we're back on track to get to the Institute, though I don't think it's for the same reason we started, at least not for Damon. He's conflicted between his duty to the UNSC, and his budding desire to help the people around him. I won't give anything away, but that has some pretty serious consequences down the road. Hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 23: It's Never That Simple

Notes:

Hail from my perch atop the crow's nest of craziness, and welcome to the next chapter of our interdimensional adventure! I hope this greeting finds you well! Here we are, on the precipice of the Institute, but we aren't quite there yet. We've come a long way to get here, but we're only getting started with this adventure. As always, let me know what you think, leave a review, and enjoy!

"I think the question is whether we take Cassandra and Thomas back with us?" Nate was sitting on what was left of a couch that I think at some point had a ridiculous, stripped pattern. It was faded into thin lines running up the fabric now.

Going back to Sanctuary was dangerous, especially with the number of people on our asses. There's always the option of bringing Curie to the Railroad. If we lead the Brotherhood, Kleo, or the Gunners (if they've figured out what I did at CIT) to Sanctuary, it would be very bad news for the settlement. The Brotherhood would hold them hostage, Kleo and the Gunners would probably destroy it. I can't let them suffer because someone drew a connection between them and I.

"No." I looked at our charge, likewise sitting on an ancient, dilapidated piece of furniture. "Too many groups pose a threat to risk involving them. If no one's put us and them together yet, I can't take that chance."

The ex-soldier cocked an eyebrow. "You're the one who suggested it."

"And I re-evaluated the situation."

"What are you suggesting then", Curie asked, concern tinging the edge of her voice.

"The best option would be the Railroad."

There are security questions involved, but they're ones I'm not equipped to answer: would the Institute predict the Railroad would search here for supplies? Would they leave a plant here to catch them, and for as long as it seems Curie had been there? Do they even know the equipment there would be useful to the Railroad? Are there other places this equipment would be? If we go this route, I'd have to wait until I could ask Deacon.

Aside from our initial meeting which, granted, was a surprise greeting, the Synth had done well controlling her emotions. That's why, when she frowned at the mention of the Railroad, it raised questions.

"You don't like that idea."

"It isn't that I don't like the idea…" She trailed off. That probably meant she couldn't come up with a lie she liked.

Nate picked up on that too. "So you don't have the best relationship with them."

Curie bit her lower lip as she thought, eyes jumping between the smaller man and I.

This should be good.

"I've never met them before, actually." She offered a small smile. "I've heard plenty about the group though."

"Things you don't like", Nate asked.

"It's… complicated. Don't get me wrong, they do a lot of good things but- from what I can tell they're a bit too single minded for my liking. What they do is for a good cause, and I understand they need to stay hidden with the Institute of all people coming after them, but they could- should do a lot more."

That's an interesting way of putting it.

"What do you mean?"

Apparently Nate thought so too.

"Well…" Curie paused for a moment again, staring at the crumbling ceiling above us. "They take responsibility for saving Synths, but not for anything that happens afterwards. As far as I am aware, they usually wipe their minds and set them loose. The skills and experience most of them have could be invaluable to people in the Commonwealth. Yeah, sure, maybe they check in on them from time to time, but even without exposing themselves, they could help make this a much better place to live."

That sounded a little idealistic to me. Anyone looking in from the outside could see if the groups here cooperated, or at the very least stopped getting in each other's way things would improve dramatically. Three parties in particular came to mind, and I was on the bad side of all of them. I guess that could be considered a positive.

My companion cleared his throat. "So you're suggesting they, what, start sending the Synths they rescue to settlements and towns to help?"

She nodded. "Among other things, yes."

"What kind of skills do most Synths have?"

"Oh plenty. Not all are the same, but anything from gardening to medical to combat. I'm sure you've heard of Coursers."

I've killed one.

"Yes."

"Imagine what one of them could do for the small settlements out there with people merely trying to survive day to day. Or one programmed for farming, construction. Don't misunderstand, the Institute is just as guilty, more concerned with hoarding their knowledge and technology for themselves than anything else, but the Railroad could help and doesn't."

My mind flashed to the 'errand' Deacon had sent Nate and I on. The Raider gang Burner was a part of was small, but well organized with a fortified, defensible position. She brought up a good point: why would they allow one of the Synths they rescued to join the Raiders? Same for the one Deacon had gone after himself with the Gunners. That's an organization I wouldn't mind getting rid of. That does lead me to one question though.

"What kind of knowledge and technology?"

"An easier question would be what they don't have." Curie scowled. "CIT was one of the most prestigious schools in the world when the bombs fell. The Institute was built with and on its knowledge. They had access to any information they wanted, and they've spent the last 200 years squirrelled away underground developing new technology they won't do anything with. They can create artificial humans for god's sake. They have a teleportation system that, if they worked with the 'dirty' settlers above ground, could instantly transport a person from one side of the Commonwealth to the other, without the danger of walking. Agriculture, medicine, clothing, genealogy, anti-radiation measures- think about it: clean, potable water. They could do all of this and yet they sit underground and do nothing."

By this point the woman was livid. I couldn't disagree. From the sounds of it, they have the technology this world would if it hadn't blown itself to the seventh level of hell 200 years ago. Any group that was able to harness it could rejuvenate this area. Shit, given enough time, and cooperation (the hard part), the planet.

But then there's the other side of that: in the wrong hands, that technology could be another disaster. From what I've heard of them, it's probably better the Institute kept to themselves, I wouldn't trust them to wield it properly. The way she said 'dirty settlers' makes me think the reason they don't help the people out here is because they consider them lesser. Mix in superior technology, and that's a bad situation.

I would know.

"So", Nate said, breaking the brief silence, "you think the Railroad should be doing more since they can get their hands on at least the knowledge the Institute has." Curie nodded curtly. The ex-soldier leaned back and his 200 plus year old couch groaned ominously. "Yeah, that sounds- not great. And the Institute doesn't have any interest in sharing it themselves." Another nod and Nate looked at me. "Sounds like Shaun was kidnapped by some real winners."

That's one way to put it.

"They kidnapped someone?"

The ex-soldier's face fell. If anything, recent events have made the subject that much sorer for him.

"Yes", I answered for the smaller man, "his son."

"Oh- I'm…" Curie looked appropriately apologetic and horrified.

Nate shook his head, but I could see the pleading in his eyes. "Do you know what they do with people they kidnap?"

"Sorry, I don't." Our charge's voice bordered on stricken. Despite everything she must have seen to this point, the woman held onto her empathy. It was… admirable.

The answer hurt, but the ex-soldier took a deep breath and nodded. "I get it. It wouldn't change what we have to do." Another deep breath. "Okay", he said, voice firm, "so we know why you don't like the Railroad. If Sanctuary isn't an option we want to risk for now, would you be comfortable staying with them for the time being? At least until we can get you somewhere else safely."

Curie nodded, face solemn. "I can accommodate for now."

I nodded. "Get some sleep", I said and began toward the door- or door frame since the door was long gone, leaving the large pack Curie had saddled me with. It had several smaller pieces of equipment she said she needed to continue her work. As far as I understood, she was attempting to develop various drugs from anti-radiation to anti-bacterial. The other two had smaller backpacks carrying supplies and materials, Nate with our prizes for the Railroad in his.

"You don-", she started, but Nate cut her off with a wave.

"It's alright, he's fine taking watch alone tonight."

Her confused frown almost made me smile. "Did I miss something? Did you take a nap while we were walking here?"

Nate did smile. "He does this a lot, don't worry about it."

"If you say so", she replied after a moment's hesitation.

Stepping out into the dark, early night air, I took a deep breath. It wasn't because I was nervous, and certainly not because I was tired, but I was tense. Everything was so… wrong. Nothing has gone the way I've planned, and everything I've been trying to do has just made things worse. Hell I haven't made a good decision since I chose to stick with Nate. The disaster in Goodneighbor, the way I approached the Brotherhood, how I handled them once we were there, the ambush…

No, I did do one thing right: Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas are all still alive and safe. Julian, for having lost him, is still probably alive and safe. And now we're on the Institute's doorstep.

Strangely, that didn't excite me all that much. These people are the best chance I have to get back to the UNSC but… now I have things I want to do here. I can't leave the three kids separated, I can't leave Sanctuary vulnerable, I can't leave Nate in limbo, even once he finds Shaun. So what do I do? How do I fix this?

Huh. The god ordained grim reaper with a heart?

… Maybe.

Well, I don't get to make that decision until I'm at the Institute, so how am I going to get there?

The first risk is being found before the Railroad can get the relay built. I didn't see that as much of an issue at this point. Even if those men I let go yesterday told someone where we were, we'd covered the best part of 25 kilometers. By now we were back in the more densely 'developed' suburbs of the city. The broken skyline wasn't just a looming shadow in the night, it was damn near over us. The proximity to the city made security both easier and harder, but I didn't want the trip to be another three day affair and it was less likely we would have been followed back to the city.

After that…? The ever present question: will the Institute cooperate? They don't sound like the most cooperative people and I'm not confident in strong arming a (relatively) technologically advanced entity into doing what I want. That's without the added variable of teleporting into their facility without any recon or intel.

Yeah. I chuckled. That'll be interesting.

At the end of the day, I'll find some way to make it work. It's what I do. This one will probably just take a little more brain power to handle.

The next morning the other two were up just before the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, casting a dull orange glow over the city looming ahead of us. We had about 10 klicks left to cover, half of it the convoluted route Deacon led us through on our way out. After Nate sent a message to the Railroad signaling our return, we set out to rendezvous with the man.

My pack had annoyed me the day prior, and it wasn't any better now. The thing weighed going on 80 kilos, but that wasn't the problem, it was the size. To say Mjolnir isn't slim would be an understatement. It certainly isn't cumbersome, but the armor is meant to take a lot of punishment. Add on the large pack I had looped over my shoulders, climbing around and through the collapsed buildings and piles of rubble strewn across the city was aggravating. Dumping the damn thing crossed my mind every time it got snagged.

It took almost two hours to cover the distance to our rendezvous. Now we were in the city, I forced the other two to move slower. If I wasn't able to operate at my normal pace with the others tagging along, we had to go careful and slow. I hated it, but even if anyone tailing us hadn't followed Nate and I out, they may have been aware of our exit. I was careful to avoid using the same route, no point in taking chances when it wasn't necessary.

For some reason I had to relearn that painful lesson from Kleo.

We met Deacon at the entrance to the subway he had led us through. He hid it well, but there was an instant of alarm behind his dark tinted sunglasses when he saw we'd picked up another stray.

The Railroad agent stopped once we were safely inside the transit tunnel and began his questioning.

"Well… I think the most obvious thing to ask is who is our newest guest?"

"Deacon, this is Curie", Nate replied. "We met at the facility you sent us to. She was there developing new treatments for radiation and infection. We brought her back with us because Kleo hired some mercenaries to kill her. It wasn't safe anymore."

Our escort eyed her incredulously. "I know, unless the Institute or whoever else you might work for has the ability to tell the future, you didn't know we'd be sending these two there but", he turned to the ex-soldier, "you know how important secrecy is to us. Why would you risk this?"

"It was either bring her here or leave her", I said before my companion could answer.

Both smaller men turned to me. Nate didn't hide his surprise well enough.

"I see", Deacon said after a short pause. "And you trust her?"

I looked down at Curie whose jaw was set a little too firm to be normal. Do I trust her? Two days isn't enough for someone to earn my trust, not even close. Do I trust she isn't a spy of some sort?

"What are the odds the Institute or someone else would plant her there in the hopes you might use the facility for supplies, and that you'd bring her back with you."

The agent cocked an eyebrow. "Low. The equipment there, or what we asked you to get, isn't common, hence us only using it for this application. There would be much more likely locations to search for us first."

"Could the Institute know about it and its potential use?"

He paused. If the Railroad knew this stuff was there the Institute, with their relative abundance of resources, probably would too. The question there is would they commit the resources to guarding it?

"Yes, but it isn't their MO to put a plant there like that. It's a long shot, and they're all about playing safe odds. It's the main reason we've been able to stay ahead of them. Then there's always the possibility they'd switch up their strategies to catch us off guard…"

Deacon studied the Synth as she looked at me out of the side of her eye, this time not hiding her irritation. She'd probably ask why I didn't mention this before, well, it's for this reason.

"We've got a safehouse nearby we can set her up in for now", the agent finally said. "I'm not going to risk bringing her to headquarters."

"That's fine", Curie replied before either Nate or I could. It was a little too quick. Deacon cocked an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"Alright then, let's get it in gear."

As we went on a detour through the maze of crumbling subway tunnels and the occasional climb back to the surface to circumvent blocked tunnels, Curie seemed relieved. That made me think there were other reasons she didn't want to spend too much time around the Railroad. It also reinforced the idea she wasn't a spy; why would she be happy she wasn't being led to their base of operations?

It didn't take long, maybe another hour of trudging through the ruined city, before we found ourselves in another mostly destroyed subway station. A quick check confirmed the main entrance above had been sealed by some sort of collapse, maybe a building had fallen over the surface station.

"Will this work", Deacon asked. The safehouse itself was constructed in what looked like a break/maintenance area, with the common room making up the primary living quarters. It was a good setup; the location was impossible to get to from above and it had various maintenance passages that could be used as escape routes and storage spaces for long term supplies.

Curie was busy searching the place.

"Do you have anything recording me here?"

The Synth was careful, attentive, and clearly intelligent. The intel she gave me on the Railroad and Institute, while not necessarily actionable, was certainly good contextual information. That Information is something I'd been missing with the Brotherhood, and while not directly usable, it assists decision making. If I want to avoid making the same mistakes, I'd need as much as possible.

If we could get her to Sanctuary, she'd be an invaluable asset to the small settlement.

"No, there is a handheld radio stashed inside the wall behind the bed." Deacon shrugged. "Won't do you much good down here, but that's about it."

The two stared each other down in silence for a few beats before Curie nodded. That was a good point, I'm so used to ground penetrating signals that allowed comms and surveillance in subterranean areas (to an extent), I didn't think about what they'd have access to. If they were limited to standard VHF and basic digital signals, they'd need hardwired equipment. It wouldn't make sense to set up that kind of infrastructure for a safehouse.

"Okay, this works for me then." She frowned at me. "For now."

It's better than being shot. You're welcome.

"We still intend to bring you to Sanctuary when it's safe."

Curie held my gaze for a few more seconds before shrugging. "Who knows, maybe I'll find my own solution by then."

I- kind of hoped she didn't. Sanctuary could use someone like her.

Nate cleared his throat. The ex-soldier was probably thinking the same thing. "Hopefully it won't take too long. It's a good place, good people."

She looked at him, curious. "You spend a lot of time there?"

"Uh… you could say that." Curie opened her mouth, probably to ask, but Nate waved her off. "That's a story I'd rather not tell."

She cocked an eyebrow and looked from the smaller man to me, but if he wasn't going to explain his situation, I sure as hell wasn't.

"So you're expecting me to wait here for you", she said after a moment's pause. Guess she knew that wasn't going anywhere.

Despite wanting to add her skill set to Sanctuary's (hopefully) growing population, she's fully capable of making it on her own. The Synth isn't mission critical, nor does she provide any real assistance getting to the Institute. Nate and I are on their doorstep, and unless she's hiding something, she can't expedite that. It would be good to have her help look after Cassandra and Thomas, if I can trust her. I still don't. Hell leaving them with the Railroad while we ran this 'errand' was stressful enough.

"No. You can leave whenever you want. You needed an alternative to staying in that facility and being hunted down. All I did was offer one." I pulled the large pack off and set it on the floor in front of her.

Nate hurriedly held his hands out, palms up like he was trying to placate her. "Don't take that the wrong way." He shot me a glare. "I'm hoping you do. There are a lot of people who I think could use your help. Big, strong, and dumb does too, he's just terrible at using his brain for anything but fighting."

I've gotten past bristling at the ex-soldier's infantile insults. Curie seemed to think the same, watching him with a bemused frown.

Deacon was too. Damn, I'd almost forgotten the Railroad agent was there which was… odd, and a little disconcerting. It wasn't hard to guess he was a covert operative, but this went past that; he was so still, and so quiet it was easy to lose track of the man. If I had to guess, that was a talent developed over years of eavesdropping on conversations he wasn't supposed to hear.

"Well, if I'm still here when you get back that means I decided to wait", Curie replied. "Now if you please, I've got work to do."

The Synth practically ushered us out of the safehouse which was… amusing considering she'd just gotten there and it was the Railroad's asset.

"Interesting one you two found there."

Yeah. She had a lot to say about you.

Despite her misgivings, I couldn't necessarily condemn the Railroad. From what I've seen and heard, they were operating against, possibly, the most powerful organization in the world with extremely limited resources. They didn't have a choice but to squelch any possible info leaks. OpSec is priority number one for them, and leaving Synths to roam this wasteland was a massive risk.

Nate replied to the affirmative, but other than that, the hour long trudge back to the Railroad's headquarters was done in silence.

Desdemona and her group met us with slightly less suspicion than they had the first time around. Before either of us delivered the supplies to Tinker Tom, who was eagerly awaiting us beneath what I could only describe as a large steel gantry, we found Thomas and Cassandra. They were eating with the same Railroad agent who had been talking with them before we left. He was a few centimeters taller than Nate, with close cropped blonde hair, but the ex-soldier was more sturdily built. He was wearing the same thick armored leather jacket as the others.

The man nodded to us before turning to Cassandra. "I'll let you guys catch up. Let me know if you need anything, okay?" She nodded and he picked up his plate and started for a table on the other side of the cavern.

"Hey", the teenage girl said. Her voice was still quiet, but she did seem almost excited to see us. And possibly a bit relieved. "I'm guessing you found the stuff you needed."

I nodded, and saw Nate doing so as well out of my periphery. Thomas almost jumped from his chair as we neared and scrambled over. The young kid stared almost straight up at me, as usual, his eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Did you find Julian?" He sounded so hopeful and so desperate at the same time, seeing the yearning on his incredibly young face felt like someone digging a hole in my stomach with a plasma sword.

I knelt and opened my mouth, but the words fell short of coming out. What am I supposed to say, 'no'? It was the correct answer, but saying it felt wrong. I didn't want to ruin the young boy's hopes, but I didn't want to lie to him either. After everything, he deserves better than that, especially from me of all people.

"Hey Thomas", Nate said, crouching next to me, "we haven't yet, but we got a lot closer."

He looked crestfallen. Good job Nate, that wasn't any better than I would have done.

"We'll find him", I interjected. "We need to do a few things first, but now I should have time to go looking again."

"Do you know when you'll find him?"

I glanced up at Cassandra, and her eyes weren't angry anymore, if anything they were asking the same question.

"As soon as I can." The answer was a cop out, and everyone there knew it.

But they also know I mean it, at least the three people that matter did.

Thomas looked like he was on the edge of crying, but he took a deep breath through his clogged nose and nodded. "Please don't take too long. I- I want the-" the kid paused for a moment to take another deep breath, "him back."

There was an echo to that statement he didn't say: 'them', his family, his parents, his home, and that was almost as painful as what he had said. I know that pain all too well. I've spent all this time trying to, somehow, make up for losing mine. I'm starting to realize it's something I'll never do.

That hurt too.

If Nate's hard set jaw and stiff back were anything to judge by, he was deep in anguish too.

And it dawned on me: Shaun… he's in the same situation I am, the same one Thomas is. For all he knows, both of his parents died when he was still a baby. He lost everything, maybe not in a manner as gruesome, but they're still gone. This isn't just about getting to the Institute, it's about giving a kid his life back, a life I never got, and Thomas is very close to having stolen from him.

Holy shit. The realization hit me like a bomb. I can't ever undo what the Covenant did to me. I can't undo what the Supermutants did to Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian.

But I can stop it from happening to Shaun. I don't have to let him suffer the same way I have. The same way they have. The next objective in this insane journey suddenly took on an entirely different meaning. It wasn't just another step along the way; with this… I might find something, accomplish something real, something genuine.

A mixture of excitement and tension wormed its way into the back of my head. I can't fail this time. Not again.

"I won't."

Half an hour later, Nate and I were standing beside Tinker Tom on the platform he had constructed for the relay. The relay itself was… not promising. And that's an understatement. It was a steel gantry that ran floor to ceiling with a dozen large bundles of cables attached at various points leading to an ancient (even for this place) server. On top was an ominous looking array of capacitors and antenna wired to a massive inductance loop.

The first question that came to mind was where they got this equipment. A lot of the electrical components looked like they were produced in a factory; the fit and finish was far better than the fabrication work these people had done. It was likely they'd been sitting on these until they had an opportunity to use them but…

We're supposed to trust this thing?

"You think this will work?"

"Oh", Tom said cheerily, "I have no idea. Never tested something like this, I've never had a chance to. Theoretically it should, we just need to tap into their relay network and let that do the work. The only thing this does is create an extremely localized, extremely dense point in space time that… one could call a black hole. We feed the Courser's programmed signal to it and our wormhole will connect to their network."

This guy's roll wasn't going to stop any time soon. He talked faster than most DIs I know when they're tearing someone (usually me) a new asshole.

"The Institute already has set locations programmed for transit. The hard part is keeping everything happy, see in order to make a black hole a wormhole you have to make sure the bridge between it and the network doesn't close, otherwise you run into a dead end. To do that we-"

"I think we know enough to know we won't be understanding this with a 15 minute lecture", Nate interjected. "How do we know it worked?"

"Uh", the mechanic glanced up at the ceiling, "you end up in the Institute instead of, you know, dead."

Great.

I caught the smaller man's bewildered, concerned frown out of the corner of my eye. "We can't check before we go in?"

"Nope. If we kept it open any longer than a few nanoseconds, it would cause- well it would cause a lot of problems."

"Great." I said it aloud this time.

"If you-" I held up a hand.

"You're running an experiment, and we're your test."

"That's only partially true, I-"

"Can you run a trial beforehand?"

Tinker Tom frowned. "No, if we do, they'll realize the codes are from the dead Courser and decommission them."

I glanced at the ex-soldier whose face was a mask of incredulity.

"Are you sure this is the only way we can get in", he said. "There's nothing else we can do?"

"Not unless you have a really, really big shovel and a lot of time."

"I find it hard to believe there's no conventional entrance. What if their teleportation network fails?"

"They can live down there, like, forever. They can grow all the food they need, have all the power they need, and can recycle water."

If that's true, I have to admit it's a pretty damn good setup. I know a lot of insurrectionists that wish they had that. Or wished they had that.

"How long will this take to finish", Nate asked.

The dark skinned man looked from us, up to his contraption, and back. "I'll have to test the stuff you recovered, but as long as it all checks out, it should be ready to go in about a week." He paused, squinting. "Maybe ten days."

Right, so two weeks.

That would be a lot of time to sit and do nothing. Lucky for me, there are plenty of people who want me dead. While I may be trying to keep new enemies to a minimum, those that are already after me, well… too bad for them.

Especially the Brotherhood.

Through the rest of the day, the four of us sat quietly in the corner of the cavern by the small kitchenette while Tom worked. A few of the Railroad agents stopped by, the one I'd seen with Cassandra and Thomas when we returned even played some cards with the three of them. He shot me a questioning look when I didn't join in, but Nate brushed my reluctance off as normal. He wasn't entirely wrong about that, but even though I'd only been back for a few hours, I was already beginning to feel restless. The thought of sitting around until the Relay was done sounded unbearable.

It was just after the man, Chris, finished their last hand when I decided I'd go insane unless I did something productive.

X

As the sky finished dimming, light receding over the western horizon, I activated my NVS and the darkness was chased away. The facility ahead of me looked like a factory of some sort. The chimneys on the roof allowed a gentle stream of dark, sooty smoke to flow out, which means something in there is still powered. There were 'emplacements' scattered across the various catwalks and roof, but they were so poorly protected or concealed, the Raiders in them were closer to beacons than deterrents.

It was set near a river, the I-95 looming, and broken behind it. The collection of broken trees and the occasional group of rocks would provide decent visual cover for an approach, provided it was night. It didn't look like these Raiders had equipped the structure with flood lighting, no surprise there.

Forged.

Oh that's right, Alexandra had said these assholes like being called 'Forged', not just Raiders. Whatever. They pose a significant threat to Sanctuary. I may not be able to go back to the settlement, yet, but I can still make good on my word. Plus, I felt a pang of sympathy for Charlie, the sickly teenager who had lost his parents to radiation sickness because of these MFers. It seems that type of story isn't uncommon around here. That doesn't mean I'm any less inclined to hate them for it. Maybe I'm projecting my emotions onto this situation, but I know what that feels like.

Is that why I humped 30 klicks from the Railroad's base of operations again? To find someone to take my anger out on?

I shrugged mentally. I didn't know, but I can do something useful by neutralizing this threat to Sanctuary.

So here I am, hiding in a small collection of rocks 10 klicks east of Sanctuary, maybe 20 from the city proper. I was waiting for the moment I knew would come soon enough, when the drug addicted wannabe tough guys would begin relaxing. They think the night means security. Around here that's probably the case, for the most part.

They won't live to regret that.

This wasn't my first choice of activity while waiting for Tom to finish that cobbled together dumpster fire in the making. When I first left the Railroad's hideout, I intended to gather information on the Brotherhood. Not only did that prove fruitless, it was impossible to get anywhere near the airport, even for me. Flood illumination, a patrolled perimeter with constant air support and overlapping shifts and routes. I don't know if they did all of that for me, or they're being overly cautious, but whatever the case was they had their operation locked down. I skirted a safe distance from the perimeter, looking for any weaknesses, watching for away parties to leave or return, but there was nothing.

Their security was top notch, even by my standards. There would be no sneaking past the perimeter. If I'd scared them that bad, it was flattering. They know I know what their capabilities are, so it's possible they're concerned I'll launch a counterattack. I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. I was right there. If the Brotherhood still had Julian, and they were so concerned with operational security they would shut down all away Ops, he'd be there too.

But I knew that was stupid. Diving in head first against a force like this without appropriate preparation would be suicide. Hell, even with proper preparations, I wouldn't be doing this alone.

So as much as it pained me, I left after a two days of searching for any potential weakness. Of course I spotted several, but most would either require a fighting force I didn't have access to, or something to drop from high altitude in.

I berated myself as I began trudging southwest, back toward what was formerly downtown Boston. How do I not have a strategy yet? These guys are well prepared, relatively well equipped, and organized. But I've done this a hundred times, some when my target knew I was coming; these people wouldn't have been on my radar a few months ago and now I can't do anything?

That was my ego talking and I knew it. I'd do everything I could to get Julian back, but it wouldn't help anyone if I got myself killed taking on a standing force of a few thousand.

The rest of that night was spent sitting in a crumbling warehouse, silently fuming. I could justify the situation rationally, but that didn't stop the irrational part of me continuing to chide myself. Yes, their perimeter was secure, but I was able to get within a klick of Julian (most likely).

And I'd done nothing.

What would they be doing to him? He doesn't know anything, so torture wouldn't make sense.

What if they're brainwashing him? Sure, they'd kidnapped him, but tell someone, especially that young, something enough times, reality ceases to matter.

If they were, I couldn't let him stay there, I couldn't let them poison him, I couldn't- wouldn't let what happened to me happen to him.

I have plenty of reasons to hate the people I fought. For the most part. From the atrocities the Insurrectionists regularly committed in the name of 'justice' and independence, to the Covenant… the Covenant. But there were certainly some caught in the crossfire of my hatred that hadn't deserved it. I don't know who or how many, I hadn't cared enough to ask which was starting to bug me, but I wasn't going to lay that blame at ONI's feet. I made that choice.

Julian didn't. He wanted to continue living with Cassandra and his brother. He was strong enough to do what I couldn't: continue on with life in a world that felt like it wanted you dead. He had plenty of reasons to hate it, but he hadn't, or was trying not to. It wouldn't be difficult for the Brotherhood to drag that anger out.

That can't happen. Living with this hatred and rage… it isn't worth it.

A mocking smirk twisted my lips. That didn't do it justice; something 'not being worth it' implied there was an upside. I guess I ended up a SPARTAN, but so what? All I've done with it is kill whoever ONI pointed me at. Real goddamn useful isn't it?

I checked my grip as I felt the laser rifle's case creak. I didn't need to break another one.

The silence draped over the dilapidated warehouse's interior was both a blessing and a curse. Despite Nate's insistence, I'd left him with the kids. I couldn't stay stuck in that basement for two weeks, and if I did, they'd be asking me to run operations for them. It may have been selfish of me, but I needed some time alone to think. Even with Fourier's squad, I hadn't spent so much time around someone else almost non-stop in… as long as I can remember.

It wasn't that I regretted it, the opposite in fact. So much has happened in the last two months, cooperating with Nate by no means the least significant. But at a point, I needed to unpack/

A more genuine smile drifted onto my face. I'd been right when I guessed he'd bring out a lot of things I'd wanted to leave packed away. Looking back on it… I was glad I had. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was a part of the world around me, even if it wasn't mine. These people… at least a few of them, were worth helping, were worth spending time around. Hell, there were even a few of them I could call friends. That was a thought I never considered having.

And that drew my mind back to Julian.

Dammit. I needed something to do, someone to take my frustration out on. Someone I didn't need to be concerned about repercussions from. If I didn't, I'd end up going after the Brotherhood half cocked, and I don't like leaving things to chance. I should go back, but the thought of returning, of sitting around and doing nothing for almost two weeks after having done nothing to get closer to Julian...

So I ended up here, in the middle of nowhere (even for this hellhole) stalking a group of Raiders. Considering what I know about them, and what I've seen of them, Raiders weren't anyone I needed to worry about pissing off; they already want pretty much everyone dead already, so if I make enemies of the bastards it just means I'd be able to get rid of them faster.

Is this the… healthiest approach? No, but I wasn't going to feel bad about putting these bastards down. They aren't Supermutants or the Brotherhood, but they aren't far off.

Scattered through the partially fenced off area surrounding the factory they'd chosen as their 'home' were four Raiders. Combined with the ones on the outlooks around the building itself, that put eight outside. I'd watched at least 10 others leave and enter the structure. Considering they only used two doors, the main entrance at the front, and another on the roof, it was safe to assume the others were either impassable, or rigged.

Their patrols and rotations had no pattern I could determine, which was both good and bad. It meant any attacker wouldn't be able to predict and exploit a gap in coverage, but it also made them more likely. These assholes probably fried their brains with whatever drugs they could get their hands on, so that wasn't on purpose.

I've never attacked a fortified Raider position, but considering what I've seen here, and their ineptitude when I first encountered them, there would be plenty of opportunities.

No… I can't keep assuming that. It's that kind of arrogance that got Julian captured. I have to fight this my way.

Old faithful?

Old faithful.

I slipped away from my cover and began across the relatively open space between the factory and I. The light from the fires they had lit in the yard would disrupt their night vision, and my dark blue armor would have been difficult to spot against the featureless, almost pitch black landscape anyway. I couldn't know for sure, but I doubted any of them had NVS. Even if they do, it was less than 200 meters to the perimeter and I'd bet I'm a better shot than any of them.

No one did.

50 meters from the fenceline, I drifted to a stop.

Time to get things started.

I drew a bead on my first target, the lookout furthest from my position, and fired.

Unlike conventional firearms, laser weapons have a relatively subdued report. The first clue these morons milling around the courtyard got they were under attack was when the body of the third lookout, minus the left side of their face, crashed into one of the barrels they had lit fires in. Flaming debris exploded everywhere as the Raiders scattered. By then the last lookout was dead.

Normally, this is the part I'd use explosives to further disrupt their defenses, but these drug addicted sorry excuses for fighters were too busy running around aimlessly to be a threat.

The last 50 meters went by in an instant and I slowed just enough to put a lance through the one Raider who seemed to notice me. By the time I vaulted the fence, the last three realized what was going on and were searching out in the field behind for a threat. If I were a regular human, I'd still be out there.

I'm not a regular human.

Before any of them figured out I wasn't in the darkness beyond their perimeter, I'd put another down. The last two turned to run, probably back to the 'safety' of the factory. Four lances later and they joined the other dead bodies.

Now that I was closer, I could hear a consistent, dull thud reverberating through the facility. It was heavy enough, the ground beneath my boots pulsed rhythmically with the sound. If this is some type of metal working facility, a forgery, was the machinery inside active? Why would it be? The smoke pouring from the towers could have just been power generation, but that doesn't seem like what's happening.

Doesn't matter, get moving.

My legs didn't wait for the command. With the 'guard' dead, I began scaling the outside of the building until I reached the catwalks lining the roof. One of the guards that hadn't fallen from the roof had what looked like a relatively well maintained HK-33. Odds are they probably stole it from someone. These assholes don't generally seem to have an appreciation for keeping their equipment in working order.

I stripped the weapon and few magazines she had and… for the first time since getting here, clamped the weapon to the mag strip on my back. The laser rifle is serviceable, if not better than the conventional firearm if I'm trying to stay covert, but I'll always prefer the more familiar weapon.

The only entrance I'd seen them use was an access door near what looked like a portable shelter with several desks, computers, and filing cabinets in it. Most of the equipment was weather eroded beyond recognition, but enough of it was left to assume the rest. Strange place for that…

A quick check of the exterior didn't reveal any traps, and, as I pushed the door open a hand's breadth, the deep pounding began concussing the air around me like a Vertibird was approaching. That would drive me insane.

There were no trip wires on the inside either. That's one reason I chose the roof: getting up here would have been very difficult for anyone else.

When I glanced inside, the stairs past the door were clear, as was the landing and catwalk beyond. And that's the second reason I chose this approach.

There was a door set in the wall across from me on the landing below. It was too low to be another roof access point, and I don't remember seeing anything in that position.

I slipped down the stairs, setting my titanium armored boots on the cracked, crumbling concrete as gently as possible. Vibration damping soles could only do so much, but realistically it was more out of habit than anything. Whatever machinery these morons had active made moving quietly almost moot.

As I neared the door, I could hear shouting coming from the other side, just loud enough to make out over the booming equipment. There was no hope in hell I'd hear what they were saying, and I didn't want the headache from turning the gain in my helmet up enough to make it out.

But my curiosity got the better of me.

After another check for traps, I pulled the door open a fraction.

"You pussy", someone shouted in a raspy, guttural bellow, "what use are you if you won't kill anyone."

Well that had me confused immediately.

Another voice shouted back, less in anger, more desperation. It was young too. "Slag-"

"I don't want to hear your bullshit. You came to me from that sorry excuse of a family. Prove you're worth my time."

"Slag, you told me we'd be raiding outside the commonwealth. These people aren't a threat to us."

"Aw, are you scared for them? You want me to leave your family alone? Is that it?"

Family?

"I- I brought you everything you wanted." The second voice had, somehow, grown even more desperate, with a sharp edge that sounded like he was about ready to piss himself.

"Stealing from your family doesn't take strength, boy."

"No, I'm here because I want to join you, I just don't want to have to hurt them to do it."

Had he come here to protect his family?

"Jake, Jake, Jake", the Raider, Slag, sounded genuinely disappointed, "I don't want chicken shits who can't fight. Who can't kill. I like this sword you brought me, it's put me in the mood to give you one last chance."

"But-"

"Prove to me you can kill. It's either him or you." A short pause. "You have until the count of three."

So this was an initiation into their group, and to do it, this kid needs to kill someone. That's stupid.

He won't do it. The kid is going to die.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the hand I had wedged in the door twitched, ready to pull it open. My legs were tensed, waiting to spring into action.

Leave it alone. This isn't my business. Diving in head first is a good way to get killed.

"One."

If I do nothing, whoever is in there with him dies too.

That kid chose this. Why am I doing this now? What am I going to gain from this? Why am I giving a shit about some stranger now?

Whoever this kid is, he did what he thought would keep his family safe, even if it was a dumb idea.

So I'm going to get involved and risk being killed to fix his mistake?

"Two."

Why not?

Because I could end up dead.

And this kid's family will lose someone because of a dumb decision. A decision he made to keep them safe. Whoever he's trying to protect could end up dead too.

My mind raced, going through the countless possibilities if I swing this door open. It was a bad call, a very bad call. I don't know what's on the other side, what the place looks like, how many people there are, their armament, their positions… anything. And I'm still considering it.

FUCK.

A heartbeat before the Raider bastard began shouting 'three', I ripped the door open hard enough, the resounding boom as the steel hatch hit the concrete wall beside it sent dust flying into the air. I brought the laser rifle up and, as my left hand found the foregrip, my eyes soaked in the room. Five Raiders, one standing in a full set of power armor standing on a catwalk over a large pouring bucket, three in thick leather jackets carrying various rifles on the catwalk around him, and one other in plain clothes about three meters in front of me. He was standing over a bound and gagged man who was staring up at the young man, pleading.

That must have been the kid, Slag was probably the asshole in power armor.

"Three-"

My laser rifle lashed out and I put a lance through the leftmost Raider's head. Before he could fall to the ground, another red spear hit the next man at the base of his neck.

Slow down. I'm hurrying. Don't get sloppy.

By the time I sighted on the third unarmored Forged bastard, they began returning fire. The response was inaccurate, but surprisingly quick.

A large caliber round slammed into my left shoulder as I pulled the trigger for a third time. My shields flared to dissipate the projectile's energy, but it moved my aim enough to put the shot just over my target's right shoulder.

Element of surprise gone, I surged into the cavernous room and, after several more rounds hit me, I steadied my aim on the Raider and squeezed the trigger again. This time the lance burned a hole straight through the center of his forehead just before he made it behind a large I-beam. The body tumbled off the catwalk into the pour bucket half full of molten metal.

A common misconception is, when someone falls into an extremely hot molten liquid, they sink anticlimactically, melting into the pool.

That isn't what happens.

An instant after the dead Raider hit the orange glowing material, the water in his cells flash boiled and carried spurts of searing hot metal into the air in a series of small eruptions.

I sent several more lances of red into the armored man as I raced forward. I let my rifle drop on it's sling and grabbed both men pulling them, practically carrying the bound man, off the platform as return fire and molten steel seared through the spot they'd been an instant before.

"Who-", the young man began asking once I dropped both of them safely behind a collection of supports

"Shut up and stay down", I barked.

Without waiting for a response, I rushed up the stairs. More gunfire sounded and rounds pinged off of the surfaces around me. Spawling caught me and my shields flared to life every few rounds, but none of it drained them appreciably.

"Who the fuck do you think you are", 'Slag' screamed as he sent more bullets careening off the metal around me.

An instant later, I reached the top of the catwalk and his outpour of gunfire stopped, and the outpour of creative swearing and insult began.

"Do you know who you're fucking with, prick? We're the goddamn Forged. I will peel the skin from your bones while you're still breathing and slowly pour molten steel down your throat. I'm-"

The tirade stopped as I sent a half dozen laser bolts into the man's helmet. He struggled to exchange magazines in the bulky armor. Looking at the dimples in his helmet, this rifle wasn't going to get through any time soon, and the HK-33 wouldn't do much better. That armor provides a lot of protection… but there are some things even the best armor can't do.

I continued sprinting forward across the catwalk, and an instant later I was face to face with the Raider gang leader. He was so slow to react, and that armor was so cumbersome, I didn't wait for him to take a swing. I grabbed his chestpiece's collar and his left forearm and pulled him toward me.

"Wha-" I slipped my right leg behind his, and twisted, throwing the man over my hip and the railing behind me. He plummeted into the pouring bucket with a wordless scream.

The bastard struggled for an instant before the interior of the armor grew so hot, his skin caught fire and his body started boiling, just like his subordinate. I didn't bother watching past that. He was dead, and I still have the fallout of this stupid decision to deal with.

"Wh- who- who are you?" the young man I'd saved- Jake stuttered once I'd stalked back down the catwalk stairs. He was trembling so bad I thought he may be having a seizure. I stopped in front of him and the bound man. They both stared up at me, eyes wide with terror. Hard to blame them; a few seconds ago they were both about to die, now…

Who am I? I'm the dumbass who just risked his life to save some stranger for no reason other than 'he might not be a shitbag like the rest of these people'.

What am I doing?

… If I'm going to do things differently, I need to stop complaining about doing it, and start figuring out how to do it better.

"Not your concern. I'll be back in a few minutes. Try anything"' I nodded at the still sizzling pour bucket, "you join the other two in that melted steel."

"I won't, I- don't want to end up like that."

The kid's legs were trembling so hard, I doubt he could have taken a step without falling on his face. I nodded and began toward the exit. That wasn't quiet, and even with the deafening machinery below pounding away, gunshots in an enclosed space like this are hard to miss. I needed to do this quickly.

"If anyone besides me comes in, shoot them."

As soon as I exited the room, back into the cramped landing overlooking the factory's rusty cluttered interior, boots ringing on metal drew my attention to the catwalk. Normally, I'd be downright eager for a stand up fight. Now… these assholes didn't excite me. They're a threat to me, to my impromptu charges, and to Sanctuary; that means I'm neutralizing them. Beyond that- I had a feeling this fight wasn't going to be the stress relief I'm looking for.

A few seconds before the pounding footsteps reached the catwalk, I took a deep breath and sighted on the far end of the walkway. The instant my next target rounded the corner, a pissed off looking woman with heavy burn scarring across her face, I pulled the trigger.

X

The fight was as uninspiring as I'd expected. It wasn't the lackluster tactics, intelligence, or equipment the Forge displayed. It wasn't the small force, the lack of planning necessary, or even how short the fight was. I wasn't into it. As I stalked through the cluttered factory, I was eliminating targets, nothing more. They needed to die, I knew that much, but- fights have always been something I can engage with. They're what I know, they're what I do.

What's going on?

That question was careening through my mind as the last Raider fell and, after another check through the facility, I trudged back to the top of the building.

I pounded on the door and shouted, "coming in!" over the clattering machinery. After a moment's pause, I slowly pulled the door open-

And both men were positioned behind catwalk supports on opposite sides of the door, weapons trained on anyone who might enter. That… was a surprise. The man who had been bound and gagged now had one of the dead mens' thick leather jackets and combat boots on. At least the kid had been smart enough to do that.

My gaze switched between the two men as I hesitated in the doorway, playing the fight back again in my head. I couldn't get rid of the feeling something wasn't right here. Not with these two, not with the Forged. With me.

What the hell am I doing? I go around wiping out bands of Raiders when I'm bored now?

Sure, the bastards deserved to die and now they were gone, Sanctuary was that much safer, but is that really my reason for doing this? I didn't do it to save anyone, that's for damn sure. No. No, I'd done it because I didn't know what else to do.

I do know what else to do, what I should be doing.

Suddenly, that factory was the last place I wanted to be. I should be back at the Railroad's headquarters. Even if I can't expedite the construction, I should be there for Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas. They may not need the added security, but they'd probably feel better with it. Or maybe I'd feel better knowing I was there to protect them. Besides, the fastest way to get Julian back, to get Nate to Shaun, and to eventually secure Sanctuary is to get to the Institute, whatever form that comes in.

"Way out's clear. Let's move."

"Wh- th- you're saying- they're all dead?" Jake sputtered, mouth agape in disbelief.

"Yes. Move."

The two of them exchanged a hesitant glance, but they extricated themselves from their cover. I wasn't in the mood to analyze how believable that was. I just wanted to leave.

As we stalked through the building, they stopped and gawked at the dozen bodies so often, it almost took us as long to get out of the damn place as it had for me to clear it out. Sometimes I have to remind myself these undisciplined, drug addicted, inept excuses for fighters are threatening to these people. It was the same when I'd first gotten to Sanctuary but now, with their fortification and, hopefully, drilling, a group like this shouldn't have much success against them.

It's still a risk I wasn't willing to take.

"Hey", the wannabe Raider asked quietly once we left the building, "can you tell us who you are? Did my dad send you?"

"No. I'm passing through."

"Passing… through…?" the other muttered quietly.

Jake started. "You- just happened to come across the Forged and decided to kill them?"

More or less. There was more to the story than that, I came up here to wipe them out, but it wasn't something I'd planned ahead of time.

I glanced back at him. "Why do you care?"

"I don't know I- why did you save us then?"

That was a good question. Because the goddamn conscience I've suddenly decided to grow made me? I don't know.

"You didn't kill him", I replied with a shrug, motioning at the silent former captive.

"So if I had, you would have killed me too?"

Is that the reason I spared him? I guess. I can't think of anything else. If he had been willing to execute an unarmed, bound civilian for the sake of joining the Forged, he wouldn't have been any better than them.

So I'm passing judgement on other people on the morality of who they kill?

No, it isn't my place to judge people. He would have been another member of their group, nothing more. I don't have any right to call anyone else out, I'm sure I've killed innocent people in the past. Doesn't matter if it was on orders from ONI.

"Maybe."

His face fell. "Oh…"

You didn't so what's the problem?

What am I supposed to do now? Neither of them have provisions, leaving them here in the middle of the night probably wasn't the right thing to do.

Curie and now these two? Am I making a habit of collecting strays?

No, but it would have been a waste of time and effort if they die because they aren't equipped.

They could take supplies from the factory.

Or I could just take them somewhere.

Didn't I want to go back to the Railroad?

Because this is a major delay.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"Uh, yeah, my family's farm." Jake pointed south along the river. "It's a ways that way."

Specific…

"How far?"

He hesitated. "Are you going to take us there?" Jake glanced at the other man. "Unless… you have somewhere else to go."

The other man shook his head quietly. "The Forged burned my home down. I don't have anywhere."

His voice was so quiet, I wasn't sure if Jake heard him at first. At this point I didn't need any more justification for what I did, but that served well enough. After a moment's pause, Jake shook his head. "I'm sorry. That's- I thought they were going to do the same to my home. That's why I joined. Or tried to." He looked up at me. "So, thanks for- getting rid of them."

Thanks? It wasn't di-

It was for him.

… Right.

I nodded.

The kid gave me a nervous smile. "Are you going to take us to my family's farm?"

"How far is it?"

"Not far, a half hour?"

It was in the direction I needed to go anyway...

"Yes."

Relief washed most of the fear from his face, but the stiff jaw said he was still worried.

Jake looked at the other man. "Nick… do you want to come?"

He shrugged absently. "I guess." I couldn't tell if it was shellshock or something worse. He'd said they burned his home down. The man had a weathered face with long, greasy hair. He was clearly old enough to live on his own, but had he? Did the Forged kill whoever he lived with?

"I- okay", Jake turned back to me. "Let's go. I'm not sure how I'm going to face my folks, but there's nothing out here for me."

And now I'm volunteering myself to escort my new strays after wiping out an entire Raider gang. I must be a masochist. At least they won't slow me down too much.

20 minutes into the trek, I decided it was probably a good thing I agreed to escort them. In the two plus kilometers we'd walked, two packs of dogs, a small group of feral ghouls, and a few of those giant insects attacked us. That alone probably wouldn't have been too much for them, but if they'd started popping off with firearms, it would have drawn the attention of everything in the area. That could have gotten messy. NVS made it simple to spot any potential threats. My hands and knife worked well enough.

By then I could see dim light streaming from what looked like a shack a klick out. A few minutes later, Jake's pace slowed.

"I don't know if I can do this", he said, voice trembling. "How am I supposed to face them after what I've done?"

How do you face your family? A spark of irritation fluttered through my mind. "By taking responsibility for your fuck up. You still have them."

His footsteps came to a sudden halt behind me. I turned to see him staring at me, a cross between anger and uncertainty on his face. The other man, Nick, drifted to a stop next to him, watching the kid.

"What do you know?" he asked, question clipped.

I guess he has a backbone after all. That was nice to see, but I wasn't about to spill my guts to some random kid just because I saved him. He's whining about not being able to face his family after trying to join the Forged? That sounds like his fault and his problem. He still has one he can go back to.

"More than you need to know. If you did it to keep them safe, tell them that. Otherwise, you screwed up and you need to deal with it. Keep moving."

Maybe I was being more curt than I needed to be, but I wanted to get back to the Railroad, and if I'm being honest, those words felt like they were more for me than him.

I turned and began walking again. It wasn't just out of impatience, I didn't have much room to talk. It might have been because his family was still alive, but he didn't make the same choice I had.

After a moment he followed and a few minutes later we were at the edge of a large fenced off area around the cultivated land. It wasn't a bad setup either with several firing positions dug into the farm, a shack that looked like it may have some reinforcement, and a wire mesh fence that would have been very difficult to climb. The surrounding area was open and barren. The one oddity was they had no one on watch. Is it normal for no one to attack at night around here? Those Raiders had attacked Sanctuary just after dusk.

Just as that thought crossed my mind, movement from behind the small structure caught my attention. My rifle was up and sights were trained on… an older man, his own bolt action rifle aimed at me.

"Don't know why you came here, but you won't find nothing but trouble", he said in a firm, gravelly voice.

If it weren't for the rifle, I probably would have found his confidence in the face of a complete unknown amusing.

"Dad…"

I glanced behind me and Jake stepped into the dim light at the edge of the fenced off area.

"He- he brought me back."

"What the-" the older man's eyes went wide with surprise before his face settled into an enraged glare. His aim turned from me to his son. "Boy, I told you if you ever showed your face around here again I'd-"

"Papa", the kid shouted, but it was almost pleading, "I'm sorry I didn't think- I wanted to keep you guys safe, I wanted to help provide for the farm."

"By what?! Joining the damned Forged."

"Papa, please. I- I know I screwed up. Big time. It wasn't- you were right."

"You think?" His angry stare switched to me. "And how did he trick you into cleaning up after him?"

"Abraham", a tired, but determined voice came from the shack, "what's going on?" A woman dressed in a long tattered shirt and worn jeans emerged from the door, still half asleep. "Is that- Is that my boy come home?"

"What?" another voice from inside, "Jake's back? Oh thank god."

The woman, probably his mother, rushed from the deck toward the older man.

"Stay back Abigail."

Alarm had joined the anger in Abraham's voice, and his eyes hadn't left me. Abigail seemed to finally notice the massive, armored man standing beside her son. The massive armored man aiming a laser rifle at them.

"Oh…"

"Don't worry", Jake said hurriedly, "he saved us. He, uh, he killed the Forged."

A third person emerged from the shack, considering his resemblance to Jake, he must have been a brother.

"He… what?", the older, weathered looking man asked, voice tinged with disbelief. It sounded a lot like his son's.

"Slag was trying to force me to kill Nick." Jake motioned to the other man standing behind me. "He burst in and killed 'em. Then he agreed to bring us back here."

The older man's eyes narrowed. "Why'd you save him?"

The question seemed odd, wouldn't he appreciate me saving his kid?

"He didn't pull the trigger."

"Pa… I just thought, if I joined, I could keep them from raiding the farm." He looked at the ground between his feet. "I didn't- I don't want to hurt anyone."

Abraham's anger returned, as if he was just reminded his kid tried to join the Forged. "I don't care what you thought, I told you-"

"Abraham Francis Finch that is enough", Abigail barked in a shout that would have brought a tear to my DI, Katrina's eye."

"Mama it's fin-"

"Shut up Jake. If I hear anything out of either of you, you'll be peeling potatoes for the next year."

That seemed to take the wind out of both of their sails. The older man slowly lowered his rifle, and Jake slumped. They both seemed… relieved. I allowed my rifle to fall as well while she continued.

"I have watched the two of you go at it for years and tried to let you sort it out for yourselves. Abraham, your son is a grown man and if you expect him to act like one you best stop treating him like a child." She turned her glare on Jake, but it softened a fraction. "Jake, your father and I have been out there and we know it can be dangerous. We just want you to be prepared." She exhaled. "There, it's over, and if I hear another word about if from either of you so help me…"

I like her. I smiled. In my experience, long standing animosity won't be solved by a stern talking to, but she certainly made it seem like that's what she expected.

"As for you", the family Matriarch turned to me. I cocked my head at her. "Thank you for bringing my boy back. We can't pay you much but we'll give you what we can."

Money? What am I going to do with money? "I don't need money."

She hesitated. "Then- I can't let you do what you did for nothing."

I hadn't gone in there with the intention of saving anyone. I'd gone in there to butcher some Raiders, bringing these two out was a happy coincidence.

A happy coincidence?

… Yeah, I guess it was.

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it ma'am. Just take him in." I motioned to the man still cowering behind me. Then a thought crossed my mind. "There's a settlement to the east, Sanctuary. They're trying to build a new community there. It may be safer than staying out here by yourself."

"We've heard about it", Abraham replied. "This farm is our home."

"But", Abigail cut in, "we know it's getting worse out here. If they're setting up a new settlement, we can handle the farming if we end up going there."

"They have someone from nearby, but he's going to die soon."

The two of them exchanged a glance. "Ain't many other farmers around here", Abigail said, "who is it?"

"Younger man, Charlie."

Abraham's eyes shot wide. "You said he's sick? Are Grant and Miranda there?"

Those must have been his parents.

I shook my head. "They died the first night. The settlers there think it was the Forged."

"Bastards", Abigail whispered, enough venom in her voice to kill. "The Terry's were good people. I guess we owe you even more for killing those cowards." Her face softened again. "And for bringing my boy back to me. Can we at least give you some food? I can't tell you how much all of this means to us."

Food wasn't an issue.

But… somehow it felt wrong to turn them down when they're so determined to repay me. It felt like I'd be insulting them.

"Yes."

15 minutes later, I was walking out of the farm with an extra satchel full of various fruits and vegetables I didn't recognize. They tried to get me to stay the night, but I have things I need to get back to.

Despite everything, as I left the reunited family I felt… lighter, like I wasn't wearing my armor anymore. They were back together and, for what it's worth, they all seemed relieved. It wasn't a difficult operation; the Forged were as inept as the Raiders that attacked Sanctuary, but as with them, maybe how hard it was for me to do didn't equate to how important it was to the people I did it for.

Maybe I should do it more then. It feels good.

… Maybe.

X

Walking through the night, I stopped to eat and drink near the edge of the city before diving back into the twisting route Deacon had established for leaving the city. Memorizing it had been a challenge, but after getting lost a few times on the way out, I was fairly confident I remembered the meandering path through subways and occasional surface street.

By the time I returned to the Railroad's headquarters, the sun was rising over the eastern horizon. Or at least that's what the clock in my HUD told me. It's hard to tell from underground.

I'd been gone three and a half days. It felt longer.

The contraption didn't look much further along than when I'd left, but that didn't concern me. I probably wouldn't be able to help much anyways.

I found Nate, Cassandra, and Thomas in a side room the Railroad had fashioned into quarters, with a cot for each and a small, fold out table. They were still sound asleep when I walked it. I quietly deposited my gear and the extra satchel of food in a corner before sitting, propped against the wall closest to the entrance.

It was my turn to be relieved. They were okay.

Why am I relieved? I knew they'd be okay, that the Railroad wouldn't do anything to them. Or at least I had strong reason to believe. Even so, I felt better now I was here, now I could protect them. The fact I couldn't bring Julian back, or even come up with a plan to do so was bitter, but I'm here now. And… I helped the Finches. And whoever else the Forged might have attacked. I guess that means the impromptu journey was worth it for them. I could live with that.

Half an hour later, Nate stirred and as he sat up in his cot, rubbing sleep his eyes, he stifled a surprised shout. The sound he made instead was more of a quiet, desperate wheeze. It was amusing.

"What the hell?" Nate asked in a harsh whisper. He looked genuinely irritated. That amused me even more. "Waking up to see you sitting there when I'm not expecting it doesn't do my life expectancy any favors. How the hell did you get in here so quietly in that tin can anyways?"

I shrugged.

Nate continued glaring at me for a moment before exhaling. He tiredly roused himself and began toward the exit. The smaller man paused just inside the threshold and cocked an eyebrow at me. I guess that means he wants me to follow.

I climbed to my feet and we left the two still sleeping children.

He led me across the cavern's relatively large main chamber to a small kitchenette tucked against the southern wall that would make any survivalist jealous. Nate grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of… what I assume is coffee. I've never had any, but I've seen other soldiers drink it and I don't remember it being that chunky.

"It's been way too long since I've been able to have coffee", Nate said after taking a large gulp. He grimaced. "This is a little worse than I remember, but it has caffeine." He looked at me. "Find anything useful?"

The question wasn't accusatory, if anything, he was fishing. It makes sense: he wants to know how I intend to get Julian back too.

"No way in quietly. They're running tight security."

"You scare them that much?" The ex-soldier offered a half amused, half worried smile. "Guess you kicking their asses at Diamond city made an impression."

I wasn't so sure. They don't know what I can do, so they're going to be more cautious, but that seemed like overkill, even for me. "Possible, but I'm going to need support. I go in alone, I either end up dead, or take too long to get to Julian."

"Right…" He took another long, slow drink from his mug before casting a sideways glance at me. "I saw you picked up a new rifle and extra bag." I nodded. "Where'd you get those?"

This time I cocked my head at him. Am I supposed to tell you everything I do?

"Why?"

"Because it means you either went to Sanctuary, something I know you wouldn't do unless absolutely necessary, or took them from someone."

I scoffed. "You don't trust my discretion."

Anger flashed across the ex-soldier's face. "That's the reason-"

My own irritation flared. Go ahead. Say it. My hands were balled tight, but if he did… there wasn't much room to argue. I haven't been handling things well; my approach has been to treat everything like I would have if I still had the resources and support of the UNSC. I don't.

"We have a lot of enemies right now. We don't need more."

"Don't you think I know that", I hissed. I wasn't angry at the smaller man though. I unclenched my fists. "It was Raiders, a group called the Forged. They were a threat to Sanctuary, so I took the opportunity to remove them. The bag is food from a nearby farm. I brought their son back with me."

Nate, for once, looked at a loss for words. His jaw worked up and down for a moment before he finally decided to hide his surprise and indecision by taking a too-large gulp of coffee.

"Dammit", he said after he struggled it down, "hot." The smaller man cleared his throat. "You… saved their son?"

"You could say that."

"Oh." He squinted at me. "And what about the Raiders?"

"Dead."

"So we don't have to worry about them coming after you?"

I cocked an eyebrow behind my visor? He must not like them either, usually his concern isn't that they weren't all dead, it's that they were.

"No."

The ex-soldier set his mug on the makeshift counter and finally met my gaze again. "And this kid you saved- no, nevermind." He stared at me wordlessly, something clearly on his mind. Normally, him asking questions annoys me, but I may have found something that aggravates me more: when he doesn't ask them.

"What?"

"I just… don't really know how to ask what I'm thinking. Well, I've been thinking it for a while but-"

"Just ask."

He pursed his lips. It was odd, he hasn't been nervous around me in a while. Whatever he's thinking must be-

"What does killing someone mean to you?"

What does- what? "What do you mean?"

"Killing someone. I", he trailed off and it took the smaller man a moment to gather his thoughts. "I said Kellogg was just another body on the pile for you, that it didn't mean anything if you killed him. I'm still not sure that's wrong, but it seems like you care about people more than you let on."

What does killing someone mean to me? If I killed someone, it was usually to accomplish an objective. If someone is unfortunate enough to find themselves on the wrong side of my gun, they're an obstacle. Or at least that's what I told myself for a very long time. Now? And everyone else…? Well I don't really know anymore.

"You were right. He was."

Nate nodded. "I meant it when I said I don't think you enjoy killing though."

"That's also correct."

"So… what then? It has to mean something."

I shrugged. "It always meant completing the objective."

"And now?"

"I'm still figuring that out."

He shuddered, and I think I understand why: he's watched me kill plenty of people, probably more than any other single person he knows. For someone to kill that many and not know what it's for… I guess that might be something that's beginning to concern me too.

"What do we mean to you?"

What is that supposed to mean? What is he fishing for? "'We'?"

"Cassandra, Thomas, Julian, the people in Sanctuary", he smiled awkwardly, "me."

Oh. That's a question I've had plenty of time to think about. "You're people I want to protect." I wasn't going to tell him I considered at least him and the kids friends. That didn't need to go to his head. Unfortunately, the widening smile on his face said he understood the implication.

"The mass murderer with a heart of gold, huh? I feel like I've seen that on TV at some point." The smile turned a bit sickly. "A while ago."

Mass murderer? "Whatever you say."

The smaller man let out a deep yawn as he stretched. "You didn't deny it. I'll take that as another win for me."

A win for what?

I didn't respond, but he didn't seem disappointed. It wasn't long after when Cassandra and Thomas joined us. Once they'd asked the expected questions about Julian and the Brotherhood, the three of them ate while I disassembled my new rifle to inspect and clean it. They seemed… relaxed. More so than at any point since I'd met them, and that included Nate. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing we'd be here, building this… teleporter for the next week. I'm sure with how things are going, they'll appreciate the break.

Notes:

Yes there was some action in this chapter, but I thought our characters deserved a little break after the marathon that has been the last few chapters. Damon is opening up more and more as we go, and his friendship with Nate is starting to grow. I think it's safe to say Damon finding the people he cares about more important than anything else at this point is a change from his outlooks from before, and I hope I'm doing his journey, both physically and emotionally, justice. I hope you all enjoyed, and see you next time!

Chapter 24: Shaun

Notes:

Weeeee're back! With another installment of when worlds collide! Today's a bonus chapter! Why? Because myself and VixenRose1996 posted a double crossover! The story is called "The Wounds We Carry" and is a mashup between this story, and hers called "Ash in the Wind". It is not canonical, but in the timeline it takes place several months into the future. Plenty of other things happen between now and then, but I think it's an interesting look at where this story is heading, and a really fun exploration of the characters in a very different setting. Now it's been a looooong time coming, but I think I've dragged this out long enough (or maybe I wasn't able to think up any more ways to procrastinate) but here we are. The Institute. Now rest assured I won't leave you all on a cliffhanger like I did with the ambush, I'm not that mean. So, sit back, relax, leave a review if you're so inclined, and enjoy!

As expected, constructing the relay took longer than Tinker Tom estimated. Nate offered his help (and mine) several times, but the Railroad engineer turned it down. I was more than content allowing him to build the contraption on his own, and not just because I don't know anything about building a 'teleporter'. The longer it takes for him to build it, the longer until we have to use it. The notion may have been childish; not many things worry me, but trying this did. Whatever this technology is, it's how the UNSC dropped me into this hellhole, and no one here has any clue if it will work.

Though, after the first three days of sitting in the Railroad's underground headquarters, I was about ready to burst. There was only so much time I could spend listening to Nate, Cassandra, and Julian talk. They would pull me in from time to time; there were a few times they tried to get me to play some card game Nate taught the other two. It was similar to something I've seen other SPARTANs play, I think it's called Poker, but, just like then, I had no interest.

Cassandra and Thomas were handling the situation incredibly well. I guess I shouldn't expect anything less considering what they've been through thus far, but guilt still pounded away at my conscience every moment I spent around them. I still failed, and I haven't gotten Julian back.

Despite all of that, I enjoyed their company. Most of the Railroad members were still wary of me, so they kept their distance. Deacon came by and played a few hands with them the second day, and the man who had been with them when we returned made a point of sitting in daily, but they were the only ones.

By the time I sat against the stone wall in our makeshift quarters the third night, I needed to do something. I'm not meant to be idle, I don't like sitting in my ass. Sneaking around enemy emplacements for days at a time, scouting them, probing for points of entry, establishing a plan of attack, and finally executing was the closest I came to this. Even then, I knew there was some payoff at the end. Here, I'm stuck until Tom finishes his… contraption.

Dammit. This sucks. How long has it been since I've had nothing to do? The month before I was attached to Fourier's squad came to mind, but at least then I could work out, train, read- something. Hell most of the books they had were basic survival skills and training manuals, none of which were interesting. Tom had his own material on theoretical physics, quantum mechanics, and other advanced subjects, but I don't have the background knowledge to understand any of it. And he probably wouldn't let me read them if I asked.

The boredom would stretch on, and on until he was done. The thought of being cooped up in this goddamn cave again tomorrow was aggravating.

My clock read 2245, I wasn't sleeping; I haven't done anything and I've slept the last two nights.

I stood and left the small alcove. But where am I going to go? There's nothing to do in the cave, and since I returned, they've been extremely anal about security, not that it isn't warranted. They're about to (possibly) send Nate and I to infiltrate the Institute, extra caution makes sense.

That doesn't mean I don't hate the thought of being in here for the next week plus.

One of the Railroad agents was, as usual, sitting on the far side of the main chamber, facing me. This time it was the sniper who had escorted Deacon to our meeting. Her eyes were glued on me, hand not quite on the sniper rifle beside her. She wouldn't do anything, at least if she's smart.

Working out in Mjolnir armor is basically pointless with its powered assist and besides, there wasn't enough room to do anything more than stationary exercises. No one to spar, hell, not even a shooting range to occupy myself with. What do people do when there's nothing around? 'Small talk' share's a spot with 'acid burns' on the list of things I don't enjoy.

What about the Brotherhood? I spent two days scouting their perimeter, I know their rough numbers and equipment from Proctor Ingram's tour, and I've seen how they fight. I could spend some time putting a strategy together, but that won't take me a week. No reason to not do it.

So that's what I spent the next few hours doing. I slowly paced around the enclosure, running potential plans of attack through my head, ruling out most ideas. The issue was resources available. I've engaged similar size forces, but that's been with artillery support, air cover, or plenty of explosives. Yeah, there's a lot you can do with a few well placed charges.

Or a lot of well placed charges in one instance.

That op was one of the more memorable ones. It was shortly before I was put on 'leave' and integrated into Fourier's squad. That was the Freedom and Liberation Party again, and even after my first deployment against those bastards, I still had a bone to pick with them. It was one of their few remaining strongholds in early 2556, and one of the only operations my handlers let me plan from start to finish. Thinking back on it, they probably knew it would be my last solo deployment.

Regional command tapped ONI for a 'solution' because the FLP made a habit of staying mobile, and this intel was something they wanted to act on ASAP. I'd just finished another operation in a nearby system, and it all happened to work out.

Well for me it did.

The target was a well fortified position deep in the wilderness of Mamore. They must have thought it ironic to set up on a planet they'd nuked before the beginning of the War. Or they just thought they wouldn't be found. The force wasn't the same strength as the Brotherhood's, I think estimates were around 750, but they had better tech, and a better position.

We didn't have access to any additional forces besides a detachment of ONI operators and three D77H-TCI Pelicans. The planet had a local militia, but I didn't want to take the risk of a plant leaking our intel. My handlers agreed. Once that was ruled out, it turned into a high speed operation.

I decided to keep it simple. The Prowler had a mini-MAC on it. While the projectile wouldn't have the punch to damage any hard targets once it dug through the atmosphere, what it would do is throw up a massive amount of dust and debris when it impacted. That would disrupt any passive surveillance systems. And raise hell in the base. The Pelicans would be able to come in low and fast, drop the operatives a half kilometer south of the base, hammer any hard targets with Anvil II's, and move to an on station cover position with minimal risk.

The night before the operation, I inserted by drop pod 20 klicks north of the target, carrying a few dozen kilograms of C-10 explosives. It gave me the opportunity to lay eyes on the target prior to the operation which is something I almost always did. Satellite images, thermal or radar scans, and the like are good, but for someone who's spent over a decade training and fighting in these situations, studying the objective in person isn't replaceable.

Our intel was good, and even on short notice the Prowler's crew did a phenomenal job scrubbing every square millimeter of the base, so I called a go. Just after the first MAC round hit, I slipped into the chaos enveloped target. By the time the fifth and final hypersonic projectile landed, I'd seeded 30 of the small, high explosive cubes throughout the base and may have taken the liberty of eliminating some of their active guard on the way.

15 seconds later, the Pelican wing hammered the central structure and, in tandem, I set off the C-10 charges. That really made a mess. My support squad maintained position on the south side of the base, making as much noise and chaos as possible to draw attention while I slipped the knife in their backs. Literally in some cases.

It wasn't 10 minutes later when I captured their base commander, and from that point they called a surrender.

All told, there were just over 250 casualties, 150 of them deaths, about 60% of which happened during the Pelicans' straffe and the initial wave of C10 detonations. A half dozen soldiers, three pelicans, a MAC gun, and me. Not too bad for taking down a base of almost 1000 Innies.

I don't have any of that here.

But it did give me a few ideas.

A quiet step brought my attention back to the cave's interior and I found Nate walking my direction. He looked exhausted.

"Can't sleep", the smaller man said as he stopped beside me, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "I'd rather be back in the Glowing Sea with a Deathclaw trying to tear me in half than sitting here doing nothing."

That was a fun fight.

"Didn't sound like you enjoyed it at the time."

He cast me a sideways glance. "Yeah, only a psychopath would enjoy a fight like that." The smaller man's face was serious, but his voice was playful.

That might be me regardless.

"Or someone who knows how to handle themselves in a fight."

The ex-soldier snorted. "Low blow. Not all of us can be as great as you Damon." When he continued, his voice was somber. "This is different though. I'm terrified."

"More than with the Deathclaws?"

"Yeah, I've got you for Deathclaws." The smile he offered was sickly. "I just- I've been thinking about all this. What am I going to do when we get there? When I get Shaun back? That's… assuming whatever Tom's building works."

And assuming they surrender Shaun back to you him.

That made sense. We've spent the last two months running from one side of this hellscape to another trying to get to the Institute, to get back to his son. Now that we're so close and all he can do is sit here, waiting for someone else.

But what I didn't understand is the question, or at least the reason for it. What is he supposed to do? "What do you mean?"

He looked confused. "I mean what am I going to do? I've been so focused on this I haven't thought about- what am I supposed to do? This place, my home, my- my world. Everything's gone."

Oh.

What is he supposed to do? There are plenty of things he could do, but after whatever happens at the Institute happens, it's up to him to figure that out. I know what I'm going to do, short term, if the Institute can and will help me return to my reality, but I doubt he'd want to risk fighting the Brotherhood just after getting his son back. If anything, I'd be disappointed if he did. He's all his kid has, and his kid is all he has. As much as he wants to help Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian, we've passed the realm of diplomacy. There's an old saying: violence is just the natural continuation of politics. We're at that part of the program. That fight is going to be rough, I can't let him risk his life when he has to look after Shaun too. Maybe the four of them go to Sanctuary while I handle the Brotherhood? I don't know.

"Look after Shaun."

Relief, sadness, reluctance, determination, and something underneath I couldn't identify played out across my friend's face.

"I don't know if I'm happy or upset to hear you say that."

"You served for a long time, and then your world blew itself to hell. This fight is going to get ugly, and I can't guarantee you'll survive." A memory of my father flashed through my head, a new one: him carrying me on his shoulders through a crowd of people, a market I think. I was laughing. "Don't risk your life when you don't need to. You've been shot twice now, once almost fatally. Your son needs you."

He paused, studying me with a new expression: understanding. "You're saying that because… I get it." The smaller man's eyes dropped to the ground beneath his feet. "You don't want me to put myself in danger right after getting him back. Believe me, more than anyone, I want to settle down with Shaun and try to build some sort of a life in this screwed up world but- Julian- I can't leave him with the Brotherhood. I can't let Cassandra and Thomas keep hurting." He smirked. "And even though you're an infuriating bastard, I don't want to sit on my ass while you're running all over Boston trying to get Julian back. And trying to stop the Brotherhood from making this place even worse.

That I could understand. I hate leaving things up to other people; I learned to live with it since the intel officers and handlers I worked with generally put target packages together, but it's always been difficult. I'm asking Nate, someone who is used to being the one on the front line doing things to put his and his child's future in my hands. More than that, I'm asking that immediately after helping reunite them.

But that's why I didn't want him coming along. His almost insistence on it was irritating me in a very new way.

"Why are you trying to put yourself in the center of a fight that could get you killed?"

Nate looked back at the alcove where Cassandra and Thomas were sleeping. "I don't want to leave things the way they are and just… live with it. If you haven't noticed, this place kinda sucks. Then when you leave… however things are for us when you do, it's probably going to stay that way. You give me, the people in Sanctuary, Cass, Thomas, and Julian, all of us the opportunity at something better, and I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to help." He met my gaze, a wry smile on his face. "Plus that'll suck because after everything, I finally started liking you." The smile fell away. "And…" He paused again, considering whatever was running through his head. "... I think under everything, you're a really good person Damon. I'm glad I got to meet you. Nora- she would like you. A lot."

That caught me off guard, washing my irritation away in a wave of surprise. What do I say? I'm a good person? A lot of dead people would disagree with that. A lot of dead people I've killed without a second thought.

But… does that make me a bad person? Even now as I rethink everything? Probably, but he's the second person who's said that now. Ellie said something similar when we were in Diamond City. Am I really the best judge of character? Do I have any right to give voice to the countless people I've killed? No. I don't, and I'm not the right person to say either way.

Maybe I should listen to them.

It wasn't something I'm equipped to answer, but the sentiment was nice. There are more important things to consider than my questionable morality. He's relying on me- hoping I can help give him and his kid the opportunity to live better than the scarce, subsisting existence these people suffer through day to day.

More than that, I want to do that for them. I want to do that for Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian. For Sanctuary. But what can I do? I kill people, that's what I'm good at.

By trying.

By trying…

"Don't worry about me", I said, breaking the thin silence that had draped itself over the chamber. "I don't intend to leave until I'm satisfied you'll all be safe."

"You- what does that mean?"

"I'm sticking around until I've settled things."

The ex-soldier's paused for a beat, considering what that meant before a breath hitched in his throat and he let out a quiet sob. He looked at the ground, covering his face with a hand.

"Thank you", he struggled out.

Like Cassandra, he's been holding it together the best he can because he has to, because he doesn't have anything else. Now that we're so close, his composure was breaking. That's something I can understand too. It's something I've been figuring out myself.

This time- this time I felt the gratitude radiating from the smaller man, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

And I smiled. This wasn't just a job. I was invested in a way I never thought I could be. Yeah, I wanted to do this for him, for the kids- hell, for the people in Sanctuary. I may only be good at killing people, but if I do that right, I can give these people the opportunity at a better life.

If I have that chance, I'm going to take it.

"You're welcome."

X

Nate helped me convince Desdemona to allow two scouting runs to the Brotherhood's base of operations. They knew if given the chance, the tech hoarding cultists would either wipe them out or use them to get to the Institute. If they could get information on this new enemy without risking any of their own people, and I could make sure I wouldn't reveal their position, that was a no lose situation for them.

This was different from the first time around; I wasn't spending time on my own because I was too immature to handle the situation at their headquarters. Nate and I had a long conversation about it that night, discussing how I could best use whatever time I have left here to secure their safety. The Brotherhood was by far the number one threat, and since they have Julian, no matter what, they had to go first.

Since I'd be so close to their base of operations, it gave me the worst odds of picking up a tail, so I took a few extra precautions. The simplest, and probably most effective, is entering the subway system about a half klick away from where Deacon normally did and wait six hours. The second precaution I took, on Desdemona's insistence, was the net of Railroad operatives waiting in the burned out towers around said entrance.

Given those two additions to my habitual practices, it would be almost impossible for anyone to follow unnoticed.

It didn't surprise me when no one had the first time, but I respect and appreciate the operational security. On my way back to the base, I took the time to stop by the safehouse we left Curie in. She seemed content. Content enough that, when I knocked on the door, she shouted an annoyed "who is it?"

After identifying myself, the Synth swung the door open with an equally annoyed expression. "Is there something I can do for you?"

I shook my head. "It's been a week. I wanted to make sure things are still secure."

"Yes, yes I'm fine." Curie glanced back into her temporary hideout. "I don't mean to be rude, but I've got a very sensitive, time intensive process going on at the moment culturing a new-" she smiled, "actually you've got good timing, come in!"

"Why?" I asked, head cocked.

"I need a second set of hands for a moment." She stepped out of the doorway.

My eyes narrowed. I'm not a scientist.

What else do I have to do?

Get back to the Railroad.

That isn't time sensitive, and I'm early as it is.

So?

But I couldn't lie to myself, I was interested in whatever project she had going on.

I shrugged and followed her into the safehouse where it looks like she set up a small lab. Damn, I helped her pack some of this, but it was small wonder the bag I carried was so large. A small centrifuge, microscope, cooler, several pieces of equipment I didn't recognize, and even a computer that looked a lot like Nate's Pipboy.

When we got to the small station, I noticed a tray with several sealed containers, Petri dishes, and a rack of capped vials.

"I need you to load these into the centrifuge and pull them as soon as they're done", Curie said, pointing to the vials. "The bacteria I'm testing need a very specific protein I'm trying to separate-" she glanced up at me. "Do you understand any of this?"

I shrugged. "Vaguely." I'd found some time and materials to read up on basic biology and chemistry, but it wasn't something I've had much use for. Mixing compounds that go boom are about as far as I've gone. Part of survival craft is identifying helpful flora, whether that be for nutrition, medicinal, or poisonous applications, and I took the time to learn what chemicals present and what they're used for, but this is way beyond that.

"Do you know what a centrifuge does?"

"Separates a liquid into its basic components." That was pretty simple.

"Good, at least there's that. I'm guessing you haven't used one before."

"No", I shook my head, "I don't suppose it's very difficult to figure out."

"Correct. There's a time input on the lid once you close it. Load the vials into the tray, make sure the caps are secure, and set it for 18 minutes."

… Okay. I hadn't expected to get involved in a science experiment coming here.

But I was certainly intrigued, so I played along.

20 minutes later, after she had separated whatever liquid components I'd given her into separate vials, she began preparing slides of the bacteria she was working on. It was genuinely interesting and, if I didn't also want to get back to the Railroad's base of operations, I would have stayed longer. As it was, I had to go, so I took my leave and began the subterranean journey back to the system of caves.

She seemed content and, with any luck, would stick around for a few weeks. I didn't know if I'd be able to deal with the Brotherhood that quickly, but figuring out how to get her and the kids up to Sanctuary shouldn't take long.

When I got back to the Railroad's headquarters, it was starting to get late and, not having slept the night prior, I was ready for some shut eye. Before I did though, I watched an… interesting competition between Nate and one of the Railroad agents. Cassandra and several other members seemed to be enjoying it too. They were both working out in a corner of the main cavern and, while I don't think it originally started as a competition, they were both swapping between sets of pushups and air squats as quickly as possible. Both were sweat soaked, but grim faced which was an amusing contrast with their trembling arms and legs.

"What", Nate half panted, half barked at me after he collapsed to the ground and the Railroad member doubled over, heaving.

"That was amusing."

"Wh- why?" The ex-soldier could barely talk.

I've watched regs try to compete with IVs in the weight room. I never understood if it was a point of pride, or the un-augmented soldiers wanted to see how they compare, but the other SPARTANs never gave an inch, and I don't think the regs would have appreciated if they had. Without fail, the regs left either shaking so bad they could barely walk, or helped out by whoever they convinced to come with them. I remember one time when medics had to haul a guy to the infirmary. I saw the IV sitting with him and his squad that night in the galley. Maybe she felt bad.

"Reminded me of something."

"Yeah? A- and what's that?" I glanced at the equally exhausted Railroad member and Nate's eyes lit up. "Well then you're telling me tonight."

Presumptuous bastard.

"Uh huh."

Later, once everyone besides our customary guard turned in, I did. There was no harm in telling them, Nate already knew about my reality, and Cassandra knew something was different about me.

"Did you ever join in?" Cassandra asked.

I shook my head.

Nate smirked. "Why? Scared you'd lose?"

"I'm not a social person."

Cassandra and Nate shared a smirk. "You hear that, Cass", the smaller man said, "Damon says he isn't social."

"Yeah, that sounds about right", she said.

Nate shot me a look of mock surprise. "I would never have guessed."

"Someone has to conserve oxygen."

His eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I talk too much?"

I cocked my head at him but didn't respond. Cassandra laughed and even Thomas smiled.

"Ass", he replied with another smirk. "So where do you think you'd rank?"

"What?"

"Well I'm curious. If there are a bunch of you out there, I can't imagine many people want to mess around with them."

Where would I rank? I've never cared to put any thought into it. I know IIs and IIIs tend to be more physically capable than IVs because our procedures occurred during our adolescence, but due to the purely chemical nature of the III's augmentations, the results varied far more widely than either the II's or IV's. Where would I rank? Well, all I know is I'm the most capable out of Fourier's squad; I tended to work out when the gyms were empty. Or as empty as they ever got. That became more difficult when Fourier, Amanda, and Liam insisted we do so together.

"I don't know. Every SPARTAN is an elite soldier, I don't think most people would notice a difference in competence outside of the most extreme situations."

"That sounds like you might be afraid."

Afraid of what? I operated alone for almost a decade, taking on impossible odds regularly. I have never, and will never stop getting better, but if I'm lacking in some area, that's news to me.

"Would you feel better if I killed more people?"

"GOD", Nate said, rolling his eyes before looking at Cassandra, "he's so boring sometimes."

She looked at me and smirked. "Maybe you two should see who can do more pushups."

The smaller man feigned a hurt expression. "Low blow."

She laughed.

With that, I decided to get some sleep.

The next two days were more of the same: sitting around, putting together a plan with the intel I have on the Brotherhood, and waiting. The recon trip hadn't revealed anything new; their patrols were still out in force, no away teams leaving or returning, and very few exploitable weaknesses.

Tom's progress on the relay was slow going, but he was at it almost every moment of the day. There were a few times while I was watching when Desdemona would practically drag the engineer away to get food or water. He was odd, but I can always appreciate dedication.

In contrast, Nate seemed to get more and more restless as the days dragged by. He was constantly hovering around the contraption, spending less time entertaining Cassandra and Thomas. They hung around me for the most part and, while I tried my best to keep them occupied, passing time is something I've never been very good at.

On the bright side, I learned more about the two of them: Cassandra grew up on a farm, from the sounds of it, not too far from the Finches. When I brought them up, she didn't recall if she knew the name. She hadn't been back that way in a while. The relatively short time she spent with Thomas and Julian's family was further southwest. Their parents were teaching her how to farm something called Mutfruit when the Supermutants attacked. The two younger kids were beginning to learn the basics of farming at the time as well, so they spent most of their days out in the field.

My thoughts kept dragging me back to my self assigned mission: how do I help them? Can I make a difference large enough to give them a more comfortable life? And the same goes for Nate and Shaun: if the Institute agrees to help me, how long will it take? And more than that, will I go back as soon as they're ready? My duty is to the UNSC, regardless of whether or not I had much choice in the matter, but I want to stay here at least long enough to help.

I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

On the morning of the third day, I moved back out to confirm a few more things I noticed the last time I reconned the airport. The first, and most important, was that they hadn't been flying any Vertibirds in or out of the perimeter. Several had been on patrol, but they weren't flying any sorties. I saw that the first time around too, but something I failed to notice was that it seemed like there were fewer in the airport than I remember. The second was probably an arrogant oversight, or really good bait; with the eastern edge of the airport set against the water, they had very few patrols in that area. It made sense if that water was irradiated. I haven't seen anyone with amphibious assault craft, or aircraft, so that approach was out unless you had protection against what was probably severe radiation.

After a few hours of very careful investigation, I confirmed the second, or at least as well as I could. Unless there were traps hidden in the pockmarked concrete, the area east of the airport was largely unguarded, save two patrols walking the area with overhead support from a Vertibird. Other surveillance measures like thermal imaging could be in play, but it seemed unlikely since their approach has been physical presence everywhere else.

My first suspicion was more difficult to verify considering I don't actually know how many VTOLs they had in the first place, or whether they had any hidden in hangars to keep them protected.

It was odd, not being able to communicate with my handlers or opcom. It was even weirder to not have either of those things to report back to. Even though most of the operations I'd run with Fourier's squad were more conventional, old habits die hard. The countless covert missions on my own doing this exact thing had drilled several procedures in my head, I had to actively focus on not doing them. Like conferring with intel officers about what I was seeing on the ground.

As I watched a Vertibird soar over the airport's perimeter, rotors pounding away at the air, a thought occurred to me: Maxson is smarter than I gave him credit for. Setting up a perimeter guard like this is static defense 101, but pulling any and all away missions, or requiring the ones in the field be self-sufficient was clever. It meant, even if I tracked any of them down, I didn't gain any leverage by disrupting or destroying them. It also meant they wouldn't be sending any support to those teams, so whittling them down wouldn't work either. Damn.

If this turns into a waiting game, the Brotherhood will run out of supplies. They know that, which means they're stalling until they either come up with a plan, or are conducting covert operations to effect one. In either case, the faster I deal with them the better.

I didn't stay long after that. With how close Tom (supposedly) was to completing the relay, I wanted to be around. The long trek back wasn't as productive as I'd hoped. My mind was being pulled in different directions, and I'm not used to that while planning operations. Thinking about Nate's question, what is he supposed to do after reuniting with Shaun, how I can secure Sanctuary, how to keep Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian (once I rescue him) safe. I realized why ONI handled me the way they did even if I despise it now that I look back; the less I'm concerned about, the easier it is for me to focus on my job. Whatever the case, I need to get my mind back in the right place to deal with the coming shit storm.

As I re-entered the city proper, I forced myself to focus on the task at hand: the Institute. The rest won't matter unless we can accomplish this part of the mission, and unfortunately, the critical part isn't up to me.

X

"I don't know what I'm more scared about", Nate said as we stood in the small kitchen, "finding Shaun or whether or not we're going to survive to find Shaun."

I glanced over his head at the relay. Tinker Tom was running back and forth between the gantry and his server like a hyperactive Kig-Yar. The urgency wasn't encouraging.

"Agreed."

The engineer had claimed he would be ready for transit the next day, and I felt an uncharacteristic nervousness. I've trusted my life to pilots, drop pods, and even squadmates, but this was the first time I've wished I didn't have to. Or at least didn't trust they were competent. The problem here is there's no alternative.

Cassandra was sitting at one of the small tables near us with Thomas. She was studying the odd looking machine too while the young boy fidgeted with a small device Tom had given him. He had said it was a laser module from one of the weapons Synths use. The kid looked intrigued by the small, rectangular box, even disassembling part of it to reveal the circuitry and focus lenses inside.

"That almost looks like something we'd put together on the farm", the teenager said.

Nate snorted. "Thanks for that vote of confidence."

"I'm just calling it like I see it." She shrugged and looked at me. "How you get to the Institute is up to you." She left the 'as long as I get Julian back' unsaid.

"I'd rather get to it through a door." Nate's voice was only half sarcastic.

"What's your plan once you get there?" That question was directed more at me than the ex-soldier.

"Offer my help in return for theirs. The Brotherhood is here to destroy them."

"Enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Nate cocked an eyebrow at her. "Where did you hear that?"

"Don't remember, probably Goodneighbor."

"Huh", Nate mused.

CassandraFrowned. "Yeah, isn't that a bad strategy to rely on? You don't know if they need your help."

I've never taken part in negotiations, but I do know how the bureaucratic counterpart to many of my operations would drop insinuations about the alternative. Threatening violence wouldn't be necessary considering we would be there, and armed, but I learned more from the negotiations ONI never tried: if you don't have anything to offer the other side, they're going to take what they want and leave. That's what happened to the smaller, less capable Innie cells. No negotiations, just ultimatums: surrender or die. We don't have anything to offer besides intel and combat support (because they sure as hell aren't taking a look at me or my armor).

"If their leadership knows they'll be engaged with a large, hostile force, they'll take all the help they can get." If they're smart.

"Do you have a backup plan?"

Was I being interrogated by a civilian? Backup plan? Show them why they'd want my help. "Physical persuasion."

Nate grimaced. "He means that's when the shooting starts."

"I got that." She frowned again. "Are you sure that will work?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't have intel on the facility or their counter-intrusion measures."

"Well… if no one has ever gotten in…"

"We can't assume that changes how they operate."

There's no replacement for information, the more I have the better my chances, so if they decide to get aggressive, I'll need to be extremely careful. A good soldier is always prepared for anything.

"Have you ever done something like this before", Nate asked, his voice tinged with worry. I shared his concern.

"This type of operation? Yes. This type of insertion? No."

"Do you think you can do it?"

How the hell am I supposed to know? "Too many unknowns."

"You- right." He sounded immensely disappointed, and even Cassandra looked worried. They were both looking to me for reassurance. I am the insurance policy. Empathy is something I was starting to understand, but managing others' morale isn't.

"This is one of those moments it might be helpful to lie." I couldn't tell if Nate was joking.

"You need to be prepared as well."

Normally Nate, or even Cassandra, would have a retort. The lack of one spoke volumes about how nervous each of them were. Even if Cassandra wasn't coming through this wormhole to the Institute with us, this was her only chance to get Julian back. As focused as I was on reuniting the ex-soldier with his son, I need to keep the longer term objective in mind.

"What, if I need to start shooting too?" I nodded and he let out a quiet sigh. "Just brimming with confidence aren't you?"

I'm confident things almost never go to plan, and in this case we don't even have one.

"You don't need me to tell you to be ready for anything." It may have been in a more conventional role, but Nate had served longer than me. He's been in active combat zones, and we've travelled together for the past two months. He's nervous and looking for an outlet. I'm not the right person to give it to him.

"If you die because you weren't prepared, you deserved it", the smaller man said, bemused. I cocked my head at him. "Something my Lieutenant used to say. He was a mean son of a bitch."

He was also right. I didn't need to say that either, Nate's expression had shifted. The nervousness wasn't gone, but it had been joined by a determined, firm set in his jaw. Good.

The relay's construction was interesting, but I had no clue what Tom was doing, and looming over him as he worked wouldn't do anyone. Even though I didn't like not knowing what was happening, standing here I didn't either. While there weren't many things I could do to be productive, sleeping was a good idea. Tomorrow is going to be interesting.

I began toward the small alcove and settled myself into the near corner as had become customary. So many different things could happen tomorrow, it was useless to run them all through my head. And yet that's what was happening. Do I think fighting will be necessary? Maybe. Do I think I can fight my way out if I need to? Maybe. The number of question marks going into tomorrow would be unacceptable for most of my operations, but not all.

A few minutes later, the other three found their way into the makeshift sleeping quarters and wordlessly slipped into their cots. A tension was in the air that had been slowly turning itself up over the last week. It wasn't the first time I've sensed it, but it was the first time I've felt it myself. Regardless of the tactical situation, there are more important questions to be answered once we get to the Institute. That's what's actually bothering Nate.

And me.

I won't answer those questions sitting here, worrying about it.

Ain't that the truth. I leaned my head back against the cave wall and closed my eyes. Regardless of what happens tomorrow, at least I won't be doing this again.

Sleep came, eventually. It's hard when I haven't done anything for the past three days, but I needed to be fit for action once we went through that teleporter. I forced myself to relax, breathing as deep as I could while emptying my head of all the thoughts, doubts, and emotions that had been crowding it. Time for that was over, it's time to lock in and be ready.

I roused myself when the clock in my HUD read 0430. Nate wasn't far behind me.

Desdemona said they would be ready by 0600. I took the time to observe my customary pre-deployment rituals: checking armor systems, stripping cleaning, and reassembling my weapons, checking magazines, and repacking everything I'd be bringing to make sure it was sound secure. That last one probably wasn't necessary, I practiced sound discipline as second nature, but old habits die hard.

After downing a cup of coffee, the ex-soldier joined me, grim determination plastered on his face. It was the same look I'd seen when I first met him, the same look I'd seen on the faces of other SPARTANs and many regs before deploying. He was ready to do whatever he needed to to accomplish the mission. Doubly so since 'the mission' was his son. His hand were quick and calm as they ran themselves over his 7.62X51 mm combat rifle with a practiced ease. Nate had said that was similar to his service weapon? It showed. The man was about to dive head first into a complete unknown to get Shaun back, and he was cool and collected. That spoke volumes for a constitution I couldn't help but admire.

He looked up at me watching him as he slipped the sling over his head, loaded a magazine and chambered a round.

"I don't need to ask, do I?"

'Get Shaun out no matter what.'

I shook my head.

The smaller man gave me a curt nod.

A few minutes later Cassandra and Thomas quietly joined us, resuming our watch over Tinker Tom, sitting in front of the server furiously typing at its keyboard. He looked wired, but his face was beaming with excitement. I'm not sure if that was good or bad.

Desdemona, Deacon, and two other Railroad agents, and joined the engineer. After a moment, Deacon strode over to us looking almost as excited as Tom.

"This should be interesting."

"Only if it works", Nate said. "Is he ready?"

"He thinks so. Tom's just running through the last system checks. Capacitors are charged, codes are loaded."

"Good. Thanks for all the help. Really."

The covert agent nodded. "If it helps you get your son back, that's worth it to me. I'd like to start branching out."

Branching out? Guess Curie isn't the only one who thinks they need to broaden their operations.

"We're ready over here", Desdemona called over a low, steadily rising whine.

"Here goes nothing", Nate muttered too quietly for anyone else to hear.

I turned to look down at Cassandra and Thomas. She was already looking up at me expectantly. What am I supposed to say?

Whatever I think is right.

That's always been a great yardstick.

"I've been through worse. I'll make it work."

Her face softened and a fraction of the pain and fear I knew were lurking below the surface broke through. She nodded. "I'm glad." Thomas looked from me to her and the teenager pulled him to her side. "Just make sure you remember your promise."

Like I'd forget.

"Right."

I caught Nate watching us out of the corner of my eye, but he didn't say anything. There was something akin to respect in his eyes.

"Let's move", I said and the smaller man nodded.

We followed Desdemona to the whirring, whining structure and Tom waved us in.

"I have their signal, codes are loaded, and I got a positive handshake from the network. The capacitors just need to finish charging and you'll be in the Institute."

Time to get this done. I stepped onto the platform beneath the massive inductance loop and the powerful magnetic field sent a ripple across my shields. The effect disappeared after a moment as my suit's control systems compensated, but everyone, including Nate, jumped in surprise.

"Are you alright", he shouted over the cacophony.

"Yes", I called back after a quick status check.

The smaller man eyed me dubiously, but climbed onto the platform beside me.

"Al- alright", Tom yelled as the pitch of the whine drew to a crescendo, "transit in five. Four."

I took a deep breath as the air around me began buzzing. Every instinct was screaming at me to run, but I locked my legs in place. This is my only chance.

"Three. Two."

The air began crackling and I saw Nate flinch.

"ONE!"

A blinding flash sent my visor scrambling to polarize, but it was too late. Sunspots were swimming through my vision. Then, suddenly, I wasn't standing under the large gantry in the Railroad's hideout. I wasn't looking at Desdemona and Tom watching us uncertainly. Nate and I were standing on a platform in the center of a small, dark, circular room surrounded by… some kind of-

Nausea hit me like a freight train. I doubled over and grasped my knees, shoving my breakfast back down through sheer force of will. Throwing up inside my helmet was not an experience I wanted to have again.

Without the incentive to keep puke out of every orifice in his head, Nate scattered the contents of his stomach across the floor in front of him.

As I struggled with my vertigo, I forced myself into a standing position and shouldered my rifle. Enemies wouldn't have the courtesy to let me sit there and recover. Without any idea what this system is or how it worked, I could only guess the room we were in was a transmit station for the Relay network. There were a half dozen floor to ceiling machines with something that looked like large cameras aimed at the center. Outside looked like a control center of some sort, but… odd. It wasn't anything like I'm used to seeing in this hellhole. The surfaces were clean and rust free, the walls were all completely intact, and the lighting looked closer to the cool, white glow of LEDs I'm used to on UNSC ships.

I left Nate to collect himself and cleared the control room which, oddly, had no one in it. That raised alarm bells; if this system were so important, I'd imagine the Institute would have people staffing it around the clock. Why would it be empty?

There was computer equipment lining the walls around me with the main server directly in front of the door. On the other side of that was a hall leading down… somewhere. The cleanliness was almost disconcerting after having spent so much time around destroyed buildings, rusted hulks that had once been cars, and dilapidated shacks people call homes. This almost looked… normal.

"Hello."

My eyes screamed around the room, scanning for the threat. Nothing.

"I wondered if you might make it here", the voice said, an older, genial sounding man. "You're quite resourceful."

It was coming from an intercom system.

Shit. They were expecting us. That would explain why the control room was empty. My senses were operating on overdrive now, nausea an annoyance at the back of my mind.

"I'm known as 'Father'; the Institute is under my guidance." I glanced back to see Nate stumbling his way into the control room looking like he wanted to puke. Again.

"That's trouble", he mumbled.

"I know why you're here", 'Father' continued, "I'd like to discuss things with you, face-to-face. Please, step into the elevator and bring your… companion with you."

We shared a glance and he shrugged. "Are there any other exits?"

"No."

"Well", he drew himself up to his full height, still not quite steady on his feet. "Then I guess we don't have a choice."

He began walking but I blocked his path. If we're going to do something this stupid, I'd be the one to go first. And we were because, unfortunately, Nate's right: we don't have a way out of here, and one way forward. Well this is starting out great.

We stalked forward through the all too pristine steel and glass halls lined with more computer equipment until we came to what must have been the elevator. It was in a small room, the lift itself a circular platform half wrapped in glass. I wanted to do anything besides step onto that platform, but there was no other way forward.

Shit.

I did and Nate followed. Immediately after we were aboard, a semi-circular glass pane wrapped itself around the open side of the platform and we began descending.

Darkness enveloped the glass tube as we dropped into the floor.

"I can only imagine what you've heard. What you think of us. I'd like to show you that you may have… the wrong impression."

My impression of you is a technology hoarding shadow org that likes running things from the dark. A lot like ONI.

The guy was trying to be cordial, but there was an air of condescension in his voice that was rubbing me the wrong way.

Before I could come up with any other negative thoughts, the platform was suddenly descending through open space. Outside our tube was a cavernous chamber that, unlike the Railroad's hideout, looked purpose built. The walls were all smooth concrete or steel, whitewashed and clean. Below us were a multitude of walkways crisscrossing the massive room, dozens of people ambling along. Trees and greenery, artificial waterfalls, park benches… it all looked incredible.

"Welcome to the Institute."

Holy shit. Yeah. These people have infrastructure and technology that would make most Innies blush, let alone the assbackwards people here.

"Holy shit", Nate muttered beside me, echoing my own thoughts.

"This is the reality of the Institute. This place, these people, the work we do", our tour guide continued. "For over a hundred years, we've dedicated ourselves to humanity's survival. Decades of research, countless experiments and trails… A shared vision of how science can help shape the future. It's never been easy, and our actions are often misinterpreted by those above ground."

That didn't sound much different from Maxson's dogma: I'll decide what's good for everyone else because I know better than they do. With possession of technology like this, that's a dangerous approach. ONI had that, but similar to the Brotherhood, this guy sounded more like the Covenant.

As the platform slid past the massive chamber and into another tube below, I felt Nate's eyes land on the side of my head. When I met his gaze, worry was cracking the smaller man's determined stare. This place was as foreboding to him as it was to me. With the 'all for the greater good' approach this guy was using, someone could justify damn near anything. The SPARTAN IIs and IIIs were evidence of that.

"What have you bastards done with my son?" Nate shouted. "Where's Shaun!"

"Someday, perhaps, we can show them what we've accomplished", the man said. There must not have been a pickup in the elevator. Or he's reading from a script. "But for now, we must remain underground."

The platform slowed to a stop in front of another antiseptic looking, whitewashed hallway and the tube split open to allow us out.

"There's too much at stake here to risk it all. As you've seen, things above ground are… unstable."

My companion was outright agitated now. We'd both been expecting a fight, not a lecture, and the uncomfortable implications I was getting from this guy put me on edge too. But I have to be ready for anything. This is part of that.

I started forward. We only have one way to go now.

The short hall led us to another small room with a more conventional elevator set in the far wall.

"I'd like to talk to you about what we can do… for everyone."

Not many things worry me, but that statement sent a chill up my spine. 'What we can do for everyone.' The part he didn't say was 'regardless of whether they want it or not.' I understand better than most: people can be stupid and sometimes it's necessary for someone to decide on a direction and objective, that's why the military has a clear chain of command. But there are also rules and regulations in place to prevent (to an extent) abuse of that power. These people don't have that.

Nate's face was a combination of concern and fury as we stepped into the second elevator and it began upwards. My senses were operating on overdrive, looking for anything that may be a threat.

We're in a small metal box being controlled by someone else.

"But that can wait. You are here for a specific, very personal reason."

"You are here for your son."

"What have you fuckers done with him?" Nate whispered under his breath, naked anger and hatred turning the statement into a hiss.

The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened with a whisper. Beyond them was another small room that was mostly empty. There were a few chairs, a small coffee table-

And a young boy sitting in a small, glass enclosure facing away from us.

I stayed in front of the elevator, blocking Nate's view of the room. If he saw the kid, he'd rush in, and I don't think I could bring myself to stop him. No obvious monitoring equipment, no telltale shimmering from whatever version of active camouflage the Institute uses, no visible traps. It couldn't be this easy; they wouldn't just give Shaun up. Something felt off though. This kid had to be around 10. Hadn't Nate said Shaun was a toddler?

"He may be older than you expect." Kellogg's voice drifted through my head. Had Shaun been taken, and Nate put back on ice for that long? Hell, he'd been in cryo for 200 years, 10 isn't a huge leap.

Creeping into the room, I kept myself between the smaller man and his son. It was… difficult. I wanted to let him run to his son, but I also wanted him to survive to do it.

It didn't work.

"Shaun…" The whisper was barely audible, but the next instant, Nate was shoving himself against the wall to squeeze by on my left.

"Shaun!"

I didn't try to block him. He pulled himself past me as I continued into the small room, double checking for any threats. This was his moment, I didn't need to be involved.

Nate stopped at the glass pane between him and his son.

"Shaun", he said in disbelief as the boy stood, turning to face him. "Oh my god… it's really you." His voice was thick with emotion.

"Who- who are you", the boy asked, pensive.

"I'm-" Nate's voice broke and he shuddered. The smaller man's face was twisted in a pained grimace, like someone had just shot him again. Shaun wouldn't recognize him, but that didn't make it hurt any less. "I'm… your dad. I'm your dad." His voice was resigned. He understood, and it killed him.

"Father… what's going on? What's happening?" Shaun sounded like he was on the verge of panic.

A pit settled in my stomach.

Nate pressed a hand against the glass. "Shaun, it's me- I- I'm your dad!" he pleaded. "I'm here."

"What's going on", the boy said, confused and scared. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates as he frantically searched the room. "Father? Father!"

"Shaun… please." The ex-soldier was on the verge of tears. "It's- it's me. Please, just open the door."

"I don't know you! Go away! Father! Father, help me!"

This time Nate let out a harsh sob and did start crying. "No- no Shaun please-" his voice broke, but it didn't matter, Shaun wasn't listening.

"There's someone here! Help me!"

"I'd never", he said through a shuddering breath, "I'd never do anything- I'd never hurt you. I'm-" his voice broke again as he placed his other hand on his chest. "Please, I'm your father. I'm your father."

Realization set in. He wasn't calling to Nate. He was calling to 'Father'.

"Father? Father! Help me, he's trying to take me!"

"No-"

The door beside Shaun's enclosure slid open and an older, grey haired man in a white lab coat stepped through. My sights snapped to his head, but he paid me no mind.

"Shaun… S9-23 Recall Code Cirrus."

That voice. This was 'Father'.

I glanced back at Nate, he was staring through the glass, shocked, tears running down his face. Shaun was silent, head bowed, and motionless. What the hell just happened?

"Fascinating… but disappointing. The child's responses were not at all what I anticipated." What the- what was he talking about? "He's a prototype, you understand. We're only just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli."

As my eyes moved back to the old man, the pit in my stomach turned cold as the vacuum of space. 'Prototype'. There's no way- but that Courser. It had been human enough. No emotion but if he said they're beginning to-

Oh…

Nate seemed to snap out of his stupor and immediately flew into a rage. His face was red, eyes filled with anger and hatred. He hadn't reached for his rifle yet, and I don't think he would. I know that face; if he was going to kill this guy, it would be with his bare hands.

"What the fuck have you done to my son!" he screamed, voice far beyond controlled. "GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!"

The ex-soldier lunged for the old man, but I caught him mid-leap.

His target didn't flinch, merely stared him down with a cold sort of appraisal. "Please try and keep an open mind. I recognize-"

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Nate shouted. "I'LL KILL YOU!"

I didn't sympathize with this 'Father', quite the opposite in fact, but the only reason this guy would be standing here is if he had some serious security measures in place. I didn't see any shimmering in the hallway behind him, but I wouldn't bet on it being empty. Restraining Nate felt wrong, somehow, like I shouldn't have been doing it, but it would be stupid to let him attack.

"I recognize that you are emotional, and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges."

The smaller man continued struggling in my grasp. "You don't know a goddamn thing old man."

"I'm sure." This guy's condescending tone was even worse in person. "Let's start anew. I am Father. Welcome to the Institute."

"I don't care about you- you're fucking Institute", Nate shouted, still writhing. "I want answers asshole, right now."

'Father' looked… almost bemused. I felt my own ire rising past the carefully constructed calm I've used to suppress it during operations in the past. Lashing out on my own was very tempting.

"Under the circumstances, I will forgive your… vulgarity. But I need you to realize that this… situation is far more complicated than you could have imagined." For the first time, our 'host' switched his gaze to me for a few seconds before returning to the irate man in my grasp who would have strangled him if I allowed it.

This time, the old man hesitated, an uncertain frown slipping onto his face for an instant. "You've travelled very far, and suffered a great deal-" He stopped, glancing between Nate and I again. "A great deal to find your son. Well, your tenacity and dedication have been rewarded." A ghost of a smile grew on his lips. A sad, weary, uncomfortable smile. "I am… your son."

Nate froze as my mind reeled.

But why? He was in cryo. 10 years or… however old this guy is, it wouldn't matter to Nate. That time would have passed in the blink of an eye. Could he be lying? What would that gain him? Nate's allegiance? There are easier, less sensitive ways of doing that.

"H- how? How… no. How is that possible?" The ex-soldier's voice was quiet and distant, like he was only saying that because he felt he had to.

"In the Vault, you had no concept of the passage of time", 'Father- or- Shaun said. This time a tinge of anger joined the sadness in his methodical, practiced speech. "You were released from your pod, and went searching for the son you'd lost." His jaw clenched for a moment before he continued. "But then you learned that your son was no longer an infant, but a 10 year old boy. You believed that 10 years had passed. Is it- is it really so hard to accept that it was not ten, but 60 years? That is the reality, sadly."

Nate went limp in my grasp. "I- bu- 60 years? 60 years?" The way he repeated that, it was like he'd never considered any number could be so large.

"Yes. 60 years. And here I am. Raised by the Institute, and now its leader."

"Its leader? But- but they kidnapped you", the ex-soldier said, the same anger and hatred as before finding its way back into his voice. "They kidnapped you. That's not right. They stole you from me. From Nora-" Nate's breath hitched and I felt him shudder. "GET OFF ME!" He began writhing again and I released him. "They killed your mother when they took you."

"My mother was…" Shaun paused and looked off to the side, gathering his thoughts. "I've… gone over the incident reports. It seems her death was an unfortunate bit of collateral damage."

Nate sputtered. "Collateral- collateral damage? That's all Nora is to you? Collateral damage?"

"I… I forget it's been such a short time for you. I don't have any direct memories, and I've had my entire life to cope with the loss. Has it been easy? Of course not, but I've done my best to move on and live my life. For many years I never questioned who my parents were; I accepted my situation and that was that." The Institute leader's voice was firm, but not harsh. This was something he's clearly had a lot of time to consider.

That didn't help my companion though. His stricken, confused expression, muscles in his neck and jaw coiled to the point of tearing, didn't leave anything to the imagination.

"With old age comes regret, and asking "what if…" more often. But- what matters now is that you and I have a chance to begin again."

Nate shuddered again. "Begin again? How? How are we- how can we begin again? Your life- our life with you was stolen."

Shaun nodded, face sad. "That is something I cannot undo, no matter how much I want to. I understand this is… too much to take in at once. I've had far more time to come to terms with this. Take as much time as you need. We have a room prepared for you and your-" he looked up at me, "companion. X6-88 will take you there."

The grief stricken father reached for his son as the Institute leader began turning. "Wa- wait Shaun I don't-"

"... Father, I can't imagine what you're going through, but you need to give yourself time to process it. Believe me, there is nothing I can say that will make this any easier." It was the first time Shaun's voice had thawed to something resembling 'normal'. "Please come find me after you've had a chance to think. I very much would like to have the opportunity to get to know you."

As the old man stepped out of the doorway, Nate slid to the ground, leaning back against the enclosure the Synth child- the one he had thought was his son- was standing in, still stationary. He buried his head in his hands and began sobbing.

A new set of footsteps in the hall just preceded a new figure appearing in the doorway. It was a Courser. The thing's jacket was identical to the one I'd killed in CIT. This one was shorter than the other, with dark skin and a permanent frown.

"I will escort you to your quarters", the Courser, X6-88 said in a flat, emotionless voice.

I glanced down at my sobbing companion- my crying friend. He wasn't ready to move, and I wasn't going to push him until he was.

"You'll wait until he's ready."

"I have my orders-"

I planted myself between the thing and Nate and stared down at him. My rifle wasn't quite aimed at the Courser, but it wasn't far off.

"X6-88", Shaun called from down the hall, "standby until they agree to leave."

The Synth stepped back abruptly. "Acknowledged."

Nate didn't seem to notice anything. He was still sitting against the enclosure, wordlessly crying into his hands. We- he'd worked so hard to get here, put so much at risk traipsing across the Commonwealth with me over the last two months to get here, to this moment, and it was all to find his son is almost 30 years older than him. I can't speak for him, but knowing the way he thinks, he feels like he failed before we ever set out. Like he let Shaun down.

And even though nothing changed for me, I felt like I lost for the second time in two weeks.

Notes:

A little different from the game, but there wasn't a whole lot of creativity available with this part considering what I have planned for the (near) future. Damon's still struggling, but it's less about that he has things he wants to do now (keep the kids safe being chief among them) and that those wants conflict with a duty he's still trying to figure out. But we'll get to that as the story comes. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you again soon!

Chapter 25: What Now?

Notes:

Hello and welcome to another episode of 'how did this happen?' Okay, okay, so I know, I missed again last week. But there's a reason for that. I'm moving to a new state and was looking for apartments. It's hard to upload when I'm 300 miles from my computer and, like last time, I'm too stupid to use the publication date. I'll be posting another chapter this week to make up for it thought. This one was difficult to write, mostly because of the complicated subject matter here. There are a lot of things in play, but instead of revolving around Damon, it's mostly Shaun here. On top of that, the characters, especially Nate, are going through something that is incredibly difficult, and I wanted to make sure I did the moment justice. Thanks again to VixenRose1996 for giving this a look over. Make sure to leave a review if you are so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

I was at a loss. I didn't know what to think, what to feel, or what to do. This was so different from anything I've been through, and that's including that first day I remembered the attack, sitting in Fort Hagen, Kellogg's dead body a few meters away.

I wasn't angry, I wasn't upset, I was-

… The best word I can use is defeated. I was defeated. There have been plenty of times I've failed; training, objectives, hell entire missions. But there was always some recourse. Now though- there was nothing. Nothing we could do. Not that it was too hard or unfeasible, it was literally impossible to fix this situation. More than that, there was nothing I could have done to succeed in the first place. It felt a lot like when I thought about the Covenant tearing my home, my childhood, my life apart.

Helpless. I felt completely and utterly helpless.

And that made me feel guilty. This wasn't even about me.

My gaze drifted to the only other occupant in the relatively lavish apartment the Courser, X6-88, had led us to. It was large, with a separate bedroom, shower, living room, pristine furniture, even a screen set in the wall of the main living space. The accommodations were a veritable paradise compared to the conditions around the wasteland above.

It all seemed to fade into a hazy, grey background, a backdrop to the horrid realization Nate and, by extension, I were faced with. It took him the better part of 15 minutes to gather himself off the floor of the lab. He never looked at anything besides the ground as we made our way through the clean, unmarred, well lit halls to our new room. For the last half hour, he'd been sitting in a chair at the apartment's small table, staring at his clasped hands. He'd barely moved in that time, the only sign he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his shoulders.

Two months, countless hours of walking, fighting, and searching, a dozen brushes with death only to arrive here and find it was all in vain. To find out the one thing he'd been holding onto, the one thing he'd staked his entire existence on, his reason for pushing forward had never been in reach.

The life he wanted with his family had been stolen when the bombs dropped. The chance to restart one with his wife and kid were destroyed when Kellogg put a bullet through Nora. The opportunity to recoup what little he could with his son was taken in the same moment, but he never knew it.

How did this affect me this much. Sure, I feel bad for him, but Shaun isn't my son. I didn't know him-

And yet…

Because I wanted this. I wanted to help Nate. I wanted to give him the chance I never had- my parents never had. Because he's my friend, and this was the entire reason he was still going.

"60 years." The whisper was so quiet, I almost missed it. It was the first thing he said since Shaun left. "How could this happen? How could I let this happen?"

It wasn't his fault. I wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. He was in cryo, there was nothing he could have done. But I couldn't. It wouldn't help, if anything it would make him feel worse.

Nate finally turned to me, bloodshot eyes and tear stained face looking… lost. I'd never seen him like this; we've always had an objective, a direction to move, something to do. Now… we're here. We made it to the Institute. He doesn't have a life to build with his son. He doesn't have any direction, and there was none I could give him.

"Look after Shaun."

That's what I'd told him to do. I told him he needed to stay out of the fight with the Brotherhood, to stay safe and alive because Shaun needed him. He asked me to help him make this hellhole a little better because he wanted to give Shaun, Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian the best life possible. After this… I wouldn't blame him if he was stuck on the revelation his son has lived his life without him.

"What do I do?"

"I-" Why is he asking me? My response to my own… situation was to give my life to ONI, to turn into a hate filled, vengeful killing machine. My answer was to pass the anger and suffering on. No, passing it on would mean what I've done helped me in some way. Helped ease my fury, guilt, pain… helplessness. It did nothing of the sort. And it wasn't like Nate had some place to focus that anger either; sure, the Institute was at fault, but Shaun is the Institute's leader now.

"I don't know."

The ex-soldier looked back at his hands resting on the table. "Neither do I."

His voice was so empty. An image flashed through my head of being loaded onto an evac transport after the attack, looking without seeing, listening without hearing… existing without living. I saw that on Nate's face, in his body language. I heard it in his voice.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

We continued sitting there, neither of us saying anything. My clock said another 20 minutes slipped by, but the time felt like it passed in an instant, and stretched on into eternity.

I was so caught up in the anguish and despair, I almost missed the careful, quiet footsteps approaching from down the hall. It was the first thing I've heard in damn near an hour. Were they coming for us? Had Shaun lost his patience? It almost didn't matter, whatever the case, Nate needed time.

A moment later, the footsteps came to a stop on the other side of the apartment's door and it slid open. I stood, blocking whoever wanted to enter.

It was X6-88 and a young woman dressed in a long white lab coat, brown hair tied back in a tight bun, and a worried expression on her unweathered, angular face.

"Hi-", she started, looking up at me, nervous. "Hi, I'm here to talk with Nate."

That didn't need saying; why else would she be here? She was probably a doctor of some sort, maybe a psychiatrist. Did Shaun think talking with someone like her would help him? Would it? I'm certainly not one to talk, the only time I talked to shrinks was to pack my baggage farther away. That turned out well.

"I'm Dr. Helen Porter", the young woman said quietly after I didn't reply, "I'm a psychiatrist. I- just learned about the current- uh- situation, and Father asked me to see if I could help."

How would a shrink help here?

Ellie helped me.

That-

Wasn't any different.

Can I trust them?

Why would they lie? What use would this be?

I didn't have an answer but-

"It's okay", a quiet, solemn voice came from behind me. I turned to see Nate watching us, face still shock white. "I don't know what good you'll do, but I just- I don't know what to do."

Did he want to talk about this? If that was the case… I'm probably not the right person to talk with.

Or maybe I am. Can any of these people understand what he's going through? I may not either, but I come a lot closer than some book-worm doctor with no experience with real loss.

Right now it doesn't matter, I haven't been talking to him, and they gain nothing from this.

I stepped aside to allow the doctor in, but when the Courser tried to follow, I barred his path with an arm.

We're staying right here pal.

X6-88 stared up at me without a hint of emotion on his face.

"Please move aside."

"No."

Porter cleared her throat. "It's okay X6-88, please wait outside."

The dark skinned man looked past me at his charge and nodded. "Yes ma'am." He backed away from the door back into the hall.

My gaze lingered on him for a few more seconds before I also stepped away, moving to the far corner of the room where I could keep watch on both it and Porter.

The doctor sat in the only other chair at the table and clasped her hands in front of her.

"Nate", she said, voice suddenly much more confident, "I'm Helen. Before we begin, would you like I have this discussion alone, between the two of us?"

My mind went straight into high gear.

You want me to leave him alone with you? After what you people have done?

I stepped forward, ready to voice my objections, but the words didn't come.

What if he does though. What if Nate wants to be alone with this one? I have no right to object if he does.

But the ex-soldier absently shook his head. "They're fine."

"Okay", Porter said, glancing at me. "I'd like to start by telling you a little about what we do here at the Institute, okay?"

Despite everything, that piqued my curiosity. I know I don't have the entire picture, but how would she describe it? I doubt it would have many ugly details, but even leaving those out, she can reveal a lot.

The ex-soldier nodded again, eyes still on the table between them.

"Good. Much of what we do here is focused on the development of synthetically produced intelligent humanoid beings: Synths. That's why I chose to become a psychiatrist, I work with them to improve their emotional aptitude." She frowned. "It was my idea to allow S9-23 to greet you, I thought it would make easing you into the situation… more palatable. That was my mistake, I should have known it would only make things more difficult. And he wasn't ready for that kind of encounter."

"Mhmm."

"We work on so much more than that though. Every type of technology you could imagine is researched, developed, and implemented here. Fa- Shaun has pushed us to do so much more because he believes we can help the people of the Commonwealth when the opportunity arises. I can't begin to tell you how good he's been for us."

When the opportunity arises? Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? My mind sorted back through the countless images of the destroyed cityscape, the surrounding wastelands, people living in horrific conditions fighting for their lives. If these people had the desire and means to help, what the hell are they waiting for?

"As difficult as it may be to hear, your son has done great things; he's accomplished more than most could dream of in many lifetimes." She fidgeted with her hands for an instant before continuing. "I've been allowed to read the circumstances of the Institute's actions the day he was taken. I can't imagine how that must have felt. It was completely uncalled for, and short sighted." A tinge of genuine anger colored her voice. Nate must have heard it too because, for the first time, he met her gaze. "I will not deny we've done unforgivable things in the past, but your son has been working tirelessly to right those wrongs." Her voice softened again. "Can I ask something of you?"

The ex-soldier nodded again, as if the response was on automatic.

"What was it like in the pre-war world?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what was it like to live there? We've seen footage, read reports, and studied it in every academic sense possible, but that doesn't tell us how it felt."

Was she just trying to get him to talk? Is that the best way to deal with this?

And I'm someone to give advice on dealing with a traumatic incident?

I know Nate better than anyone here, maybe better than anyone else period at this point. Talking about his life before the War isn't going to do him any favors.

Before I could interject, the ex-soldier shrugged. "Constant war and fear", he said, tone about as dry and monotonous as the wasteland above us. "Sure, I could run down to the store if I wanted a nice juicy steak, but that didn't mean anything when you're always afraid a bomb is gonna drop on your head." He huffed. "Then it happened."

"What about before that?"

A hint of irritation broke through the blank stare plastered on his face.

"Before that? I was on active duty for 16 years. Before that? I was a runaway. Before that? I made a sport out of getting beaten so my mom didn't."

That last part's something I didn't know. Is that why he was so determined to get Shaun back? I vaguely remember a couple of the other Gamma company recruits talking about abusive parents, and even then I couldn't understand. A parent hurting their child? I don't recall much about mine, but I knew they'd never done that. And never would have. It lit a small fire of anger in the back of my head.

But that isn't the point here.

Porter smiled sadly. "I guess some things never change." Her smiled turned a bit more genuine. "Unless someone comes along who can do it. My circumstances are a bit different, but I recently had my first. I hope one day she grows to be someone a quarter of what your son has become. He's truly a great man. As difficult as it is, I think you should be proud." She stood with a nervous glance back at me. "We have a status meeting tomorrow at 8:00 AM. Your son asked that you attend. He'd have done it himself but… well he's confused for the first time I can remember. I think he's been struggling with this." The shrink's smile returned. "I don't think I've ever seen him more excited for something though."

The expression on Nate's face had returned to it's blank, emotionless default. "Ah."

"I'm staying a few doors down for the time being", Porter said, and started out of the room. I stepped into the middle of the apartment as she left, watching X6-88 as he crossed the doorway. Even behind the sunglasses that looked oddly similar to the ones Deacon wears, I could see the appraising glance he cast my way.

My companion didn't move from the table as I slid the door shut. That had been an… odd conversation.

Silence reigned as I turned back to the smaller man. He'd resumed his position, sitting and staring at his hands clasped in front of him.

Normally, idling for hours on end irritated me, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't grow restless as the day passed, but I didn't want to leave either. The revelation, while it didn't hit me with anywhere near the magnitude it did Nate, hurt. A lot. It hurt that there was nothing I could do to help the ex-soldier more than anything. So I contented myself sitting in the room's far corner, giving him as much space as possible, but still able to watch over him.

Hours later, I heard more footsteps in the hall, and the door slid open to admit Porter again, this time with two trays full of food. Fresh, healthy looking food.

Chicken.

Despite myself, my mouth began to water.

On the trays stacked high with fresh fruit and vegetables were several delicious looking roasted chicken thighs. How long has it been? Even while stationed on ship, we were limited to preserved fare for the most part. Damn… and this place couldn't spare any resources to help? My ass.

She wordlessly deposited the trays on the table and left. I was about to take a tray into the bedroom when Nate stood and picked one up himself. He never looked my way as he trudged out of the apartment's living room.

He slid the door shut, and I was on my own.

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't enjoy the food- probably the best thing I've eaten in a decade. It just… didn't feel right. I don't need this. The food might be good, but that wasn't important to me. I eat to recoup energy. What would Cassandra, or Thomas, or Julian, or any of the people struggling to make it by in Sanctuary think of this? Have they ever had the opportunity to eat food like this? And eating it now? After we failed so completely…

Nate didn't come back into the living room. After another hour or so, I heard the ex-soldier crawl into bed.

That night was as bad as the hours I'd spent sitting there during the day, but it didn't matter. I'd wait. Occasionally, I'd hear a soft sob drift from the bedroom. I doubt Nate got much sleep.

What would that be like for me? Going into cryo and waking up to find everything, not just different, destroyed. Everything I knew, gone. The answer is probably the same as how I handled being dropped here: assess, adapt, act. I don't know if that's a good thing anymore. I'm a soldier, a SPARTAN, a III. I don't have a normal life to remember, I don't- didn't have anything I was afraid of losing. My only concern has always been the next mission.

More than once, I overheard regs gossiping about me, calling me a 'pet weapon', or 'robot'… I think my favorite one was 'HMSAP' High Mobility Small Arms Platform (whoever came up with that one had one hell of an imagination). Point is, they saw me as someone- something the UNSC could shove in a tube, pull out when they need something killed, and put me right back.

And they're right. Or they were.

If I was shoved in cryo and I woke up to find everything different, how would I feel now? Knowing everyone I've come to care about here is gone? Would I be able to move on the same way?

I spent the rest of the night with odd new thoughts careening through my beleaguered mind. Like so many others in the last two months, I didn't know what to do with any of them. How would I feel if that happened to me? What would it feel like once I had to return to the UNSC (if I can)? What is Nate going to do now? Can I do anything to help him?

If it weren't for the clock in my HUD, I would have lost track of time. When I finally heard movement from the bedroom, it read 0700. Nate emerged from the door only wearing his worn khaki cargo pants. The faint scar on his chest, just beside his heart drew my mind back to the moment I watched the bullet explode from it in a fountain of blood. He'd probably rather go through that again than this.

The ex-soldier stopped just outside of the door, staring at me.

"I-" he started before his voice caught. He was exhausted. "I'm sorry Damon."

I stood. Sorry?

"For?"

"Making you sit here so long, I know you hate that." His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before he met my gaze again. "It's just- I'm just- I don't know what to do."

I cocked my head at him. Sorry for making me wait? That's what you're worried about?

The smaller man shifted uncomfortably. "Don't give me that look. I know-"

"I'm not what you should be thinking about."

After a second's pause, his blank expression slowly drifted into a confused frown. "What do you mean?"

"Me waiting doesn't matter, your son does. Are you going to their status meeting?"

"I-" he faltered again. "I haven't thought about it. Should I?"

Should he? There's a pretty easy way to answer that. "Will it be more productive than staying here?"

The contemplation that drifted across his face told me the ex-soldier knew what I meant. He could sit here and try to think his way through this, or he could go do something to find a solution. As soon as I saw that, I knew what his answer would be; Nate is someone who confronts problems head on, no matter what form that takes.

"Yes…" he glanced back into the bedroom. "You think they have clean clothes?"

I shrugged. Dressing myself was easy. I'd worn armor practically every day for the past 8 years.

Half an hour later, Nate looked a lot better after taking a shower. He found jeans and a white long sleeve shirt somewhere, clean clothes certainly helped.

Not long after, Porter came knocking on the door. This time, X6-88 wasn't escorting her.

"Will you two be attending the status meeting?"

"Yes", Nate said, voice as robotic as the Coursers'.

The shrink nodded. "Good, please leave your guns here and come with me."

Leave my weapons? That isn't something I was comfortable with.

I need these people to help me. If they're going to do that, I need them to trust me. Besides… if they want to start something, I don't need a gun at this range.

True enough.

I slipped the laser rifle from its sling and detached my HK-33 from its mag clamp and set them both on the room's small table. Nate didn't have his weapon on him.

After checking to make sure the hall was clear, I fell in behind the shorter woman, followed by Nate. I had no idea if they would want to try something, and that made me nervous. It's hard to say what they want with us, or more specifically Nate, when they haven't told us, whether it be a lie or not.

As we followed our guide through the spotless, white washed halls, occasionally passing by other Institute members and guards clad in the same armor I'd seen Synths wear above ground. Is their fighting force entirely composed of Synths?

It was difficult to tell since the corridors were all uniform, and without any markers to use as a guide, distance was hard to judge, but I felt like we were taking a very indirect path. More than a few times we took a detour to circumvent certain passages or doors, and once, even backtracked down a hall. They didn't want us to see certain parts of their facility; that wasn't a surprise.

After 15 minutes of following the winding path, Porter led us down a final hall to an open door voices were already drifting through.

"Do you trust me, Dr. Ayo", I heard Shaun say.

"Of course, but-" another voice started before the Institute leader cut him off.

"Do you trust your Coursers?" He sounded like he was lecturing a 12 year old. It was the same, condescending tone he'd used over the intercom when we first arrived.

The second man's voice raised to a shout as we reached the door. "We do not know how he defeated one in the first place!"

"Well", Shaun said, gazing at me as I ducked through the opening. "Ask him."

There were a half dozen people, all dressed in various colored lab coats, sitting around a large white conference table. At the far end of the room we're four Coursers, each of them with their eyes fixed on me. They were all holding the Institute's version of a laser rifle across their chests. None of the weapons were at the ready, but it spoke volumes about how much I scared them they had five of their best fighters in here. This must be the Institute's leadership.

"I-" the man, Dr. Ayo apparently, a smaller, slim man with a closely shaven head, what looked like a constant scowl, wearing a black and white lab suit. Shaun cut him off again.

"Before we start with that though, I'd like to introduce the rest of our leadership. Thank you Dr. Porter."

Our guide nodded before retreating from the conference room.

"Father… Nate, these are the Institute's department heads." Shaun motioned to the man he'd been talking to. "Dr. Justin Ayo, director of Synth Retention." The next was an older woman with black hair drawn back into a tight bun and slanted, sharp eyes that looked like they had seen more than I would expect from an underground shut-in. "Dr. Madison Li, Director of Advanced Systems Development." The last two looked similar; younger with blond hair and a clear complexion that said they've probably never been in a fight. "Dr. Allie Filmore, Chief engineering and head of the facilities division, and Dr. Clayton Holdren, head of the bioscience division."

As he finished, the Institute leader fixed his eyes on me.

"As much as I would like to answer whatever questions you may have, we must address the largest unknown here."

"Wha-" I felt Nate glance my way. I didn't take my gaze off Shaun. "Oh. Right. His name's Damon. He's the reason I'm standing here."

"Yes, well, his name doesn't tell us much about who he is. I appreciate you kept my father safe and brought him here, but you are an unknown, and that means you're a risk."

"I'm a soldier", I replied before Nate could.

Shaun frowned. "A soldier with extraordinary skills and abilities wearing armor that, by every piece of information available to us, doesn't exist."

That sums it up pretty well I think. "Yes." I need their cooperation, but these people set me on edge damn near as much as Maxson and the Brotherhood had. I wasn't going to give them anything until I was comfortable they were worth trusting.

"I see. You understand you will not be able to remain here as long as we are unsure of your intentions."

Now that was bullshit. "I'm here because Nate needed my help and I need yours. You don't think I'm stupid enough to believe you'd let a dangerous unknown who knows your secret out of your sights."

"Do you expect us to take you for your word?"

I shook my head. "No."

Silence draped itself over the conference room as everyone, including Nate, stared at me. From the expressions around the table, I gathered they expected me to expand, but there wasn't much to say. They don't trust me, words won't do anything to change that. At least, no words I was willing to part with. I don't trust them either.

A small smile flashed across Nate's face as he took in the growing confusion of the Institute members around the table.

Eventually Shaun took the hint and cleared his throat to break the silence. "How do you suppose we proceed then?"

"Show me why I should trust you."

The older man's eyes narrowed, his first visual expression of emotion. That's good, that means I'm getting to him.

"You act as if you're the one in position to command trust."

"Whether you can overpower me or not isn't my concern. I won't discuss the specifics of my situation until I'm satisfied."

After another moment's pause, Shaun's face settled back into its blank, placid default. "You say you need our help, yet you're unwilling to discuss with what. It seems you're looking for a reason to trust us."

I would like to trust you since you're my only shot at getting back to the UNSC, but you haven't made a good first impression.

"Possibly."

"Hmm. Well I think if you would like anything from us, we need something from you first." The Institute leader looked at the man he'd been talking with when we entered, Ayo.

"I would like to know how you defeated one of our Coursers", the doctor said.

"Ballistic trauma."

Nate let out a long, slow breath as looked at the ceiling directly above him. He was biting his lower lip. I think that meant he was trying not to laugh.

Ayo blinked a few times before shaking his head. "I know you shot it", he snapped. "I didn't mean literally 'how did you kill it'."

I cocked my head at the bald man.

"You're such a jackass", Nate whispered, low enough no one else could hear, still staring at the ceiling. At least he was starting to regain some of his characteristic sarcasm. It wasn't really the reason I was giving the doctor a hard time, the guy rubbed me the wrong way, but it wasn't a bad thing either.

"Coursers are programmed, trained, and equipped well enough to handle any single combatant", the man continued on, angrily. "Even the Brotherhood in their antiquated powered armor. How did you manage to kill one on your own?"

Aside from being a smartass, I wasn't exactly sure what to say. I ran the encounter back through my mind; I hadn't done anything spectacular. The Courser was certainly the best combatant I've encountered since coming here, but it had nothing on a Sangheili or Jiralhanae. The extremely fast healing was new, but it wasn't much faster or stronger than an average human. There's only so much it could do. To assume there was no one out there that can beat it is… naive.

"Disabled it with several rounds to its left leg, a dozen more to it's torso and neck once it was down. It had an interesting healing mechanism, but that can't keep up with bullets. So my answer remains the same: ballistic trauma."

Ayo gaped at me, as if describing a fairly simple engagement that ended in the death of one of his Coursers was the most absurd thing he's ever heard.

"Dr. Ayo", Shaun interjected, "correct me if I am wrong, but aside from the missing head", he glanced at me, "and chip, that is consistent with the results of our investigation."

"Yes but-"

"Then I believe there is no reason to inquire further. This… man is a superior combatant with better equipment."

That didn't sit well with the already irate doctor. "You believe some brute who relies on powered armor could be-"

"Dr. Ayo, unless you have anything constructive to add, I believe this matter is concluded. We may not like the answer, but if we do not accept it and work to improve, then the opportunity to do so is wasted. Do you agree?"

After a moment's pause where he glared into my faceplate as if he could kill me with looks alone he grumbled, "I do, Father."

The older, white haired man nodded before turning to Nate

The interaction was interesting; Shaun seemed pragmatic and direct, which is always a good quality in a leader. But then there was the way he did it. I've never cared for coddling someone, but he downdressed Ayo in front of the leadership team, as well as Nate and I. If Ayo was an ineffective leader for their forces, he shouldn't be in the position, which means he probably is and Shaun maintains authority through belittlement. Then there's the almost begrudging 'Father' Ayo added at the end of his 'agreement', like that was his way of signaling submission.

There were so many things to consider, I didn't know what to think, but the feeling I got wasn't a good one.

"Good. Now, I would like to address the primary reason we have gathered here." He seemed to gather himself for his next statement. "Everyone, this is my Father, Nate."

The response was… unimpressive. I don't know what Shaun expected, but the others around the table simply stared at the edge-soldier, all looking mildly disinterested.

Except for Dr. Ayo. His eyes were still firmly locked on me.

"Father", Holdren said slowly, "I understand the nature of your reasoning, but are you sure it's a good idea to bring an outsider into a leadership meeting like this? Especially considering the-" his eyes flicked to me for a moment, "potential danger."

Shaun nodded slowly. "Yes, I am. We are not here to discuss any of our more sensitive operations, in fact we are here for the purpose of discussing our guests. As for danger, I do not believe we are in any more than normal."

"If I may ask then, what is the purpose of this gathering?"

"To assess the situation and decide how to move forward." There were a few confused glances shared between the assembled leaders. "This involves a matter very personal to me, as well as a very unique variable. I would prefer this decision be made in as an objective manner as possible because of the potential repercussions and my own biases."

Dr. Li's sharp gaze had only left me a few times since this started, and now there was an added understanding. "Is there a reason they are present?"

"They are both unknown quantities no one here has had experience with. Would it not behoove us to gather as much information as possible?"

Ah. An interrogation. Or would they call this an 'interview'?

The woman offered a curt nod. "It would."

"Is everyone in agreement", Shaun said as he looked around the table. The other three nodded in return, Ayo last to give his assent. "Good. Since I doubt we will get much from our more mysterious party, I suggest we begin with my father."

He paused, looking around the table at his subordinates, but no one offered an objection. "Very well. I will go first." The Institute leader fixed Nate in the same, impassive stare he's had since we first saw him. "I understand, and appreciate, you came here to find me. Now I must ask what your intentions are."

The ex-soldier's face was blank, but unlike his son's carefully cultivated pokerface, it was because he didn't know what to think.

"I don't know", he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You were what kept me going."

"Might I suggest something? Your tenacity and determination is indispensable. Traveling across the Commonwealth is not easy, especially now the Brotherhood is your enemy as well."

He's recruiting Nate. That was to be expected.

"Determination and tenacity? Yeah right. It was desperation, nothing more. If you want to give someone credit, give it to him." The smaller man motioned at me. "I don't make it to Diamond City on my own."

While that wasn't strictly true, given enough time he probably could have convinced Preston to help, what came after would have been much more difficult.

Shaun shrugged. "Even if desperation was the driving force and you received help from this man, you are still the one who managed to accomplish something no one else has in the past 200 years. That is valuable. I believe you would be well suited for our mission."

The division leaders were glaring at Nate now. All of them except Dr. Li looked abhorred by the idea. Why? I could understand reluctance, but this goes far beyond disagreement.

"Father", Holdren said, voice carefully neutral. "Is this why you requested our input on this decision? Are you sure your feelings are in line with the Institute's interests?"

The Institute leader looked at each of his subordinates in turn. "I am not sure. You are all well aware of our ambitions. I am counting on your judgement as well."

Ayo set his jaw and cleared his throat. "If we allow an exception here, are we going to begin allowing everyone from the surface in to contaminate our home?"

Contaminate? Was he concerned about radiation? No, they must have sanitation facilities, the Coursers go to the surface regularly. Nate and I didn't pass through one on our way here, but I wouldn't be surprised if they have radiation detectors spread through the facility-

Oh…

"We've worked hard to keep ourselves isolated this long. Why would we give that up now?"

Dr. Li's frown turned on the slim man. "Two of the people sitting at this table are from 'the surface'."

"Yes, and extremely special cases. You've been an invaluable part of this organization, and Father was kept in a Vault. Besides", Ayo turned to Shaun, "with all due respect, your father is a soldier, not a scientist. We do not need fighters when we have the Coursers."

"Dr. Ayo, you rely on them for everything. Not all of their missions are best fulfilled by something only designed and built to be as efficient a killer as possible." Li glanced at me before turning back to Nate. "I think I understand where Father is going: you believe he can be a valuable asset for above ground operations. He can be much more effective in situations that require discretion."

Shaun nodded. "In part, yes, I believe he can be useful in that role. However, I also believe the Institute has enough scientists. We have been secluded down here, toiling away on our projects for the sake of advancement and nothing more." He held up a hand to silence whatever Ayo was opening his mouth to say. "I am not suggesting he be the Institute's leader. What I am suggesting is it may be time to gather input from someone with different experiences."

Dr. Filmore shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Father, you're saying you don't believe there has been a reason for the work we've been doing, the things we've accomplished over the past 200 years?"

"Absolutely not. Our accomplishments have been as important as they have been numerous. However, I believe if we continue down this path, our continued advancements will be in vain. Science for the sake of science is never a bad thing, but maybe it is time we take that science in a new direction."

Silence settled back over the conference room as the assembled leaders considered the suggestion. The uncertainty about Nate providing leadership and input on the Institute's direction made sense. That isn't what's bothering me. What bothered me was the implication Ayo made about the people who live on the surface: they're unclean. More than that, unworthy. He only made exceptions from 'special cases' in the form of Dr. Li and Shaun. The other two, Filmore and Holdren had similar reactions, the only difference was they didn't voice it.

That type of thinking is what drove many of the fundamentals I've fought over the years. More than that, it's what drove the Covenant to war with humanity, to glass our worlds… to destroy my home. If you believe your 'kind' is inherently better than another, you can justify anything, even if that other 'kind' is also humans. It sounded a lot like Maxson and his opinion of non-Brotherhood citizens. Should I be surprised two of the most powerful entities in this post-apocalyptic hellhole they call 'Earth' have a superiority complex? Probably not.

"Father", Shaun said, breaking the silence with an almost startling suddenness, "I understand the last 24 hours have been… confusing, but I would like you to join us. I would like you to be a part of humanity's future, and you will live the most comfortable life possible here at the Institute. Wherever this organization goes, it will be far better than life in the Commonwealth."

If the eggheads here were anything like the ones I've dealt with, the ones with little practical experience would be next to useless in high stress, high leverage situations. They also wouldn't be properly equipped to handle the complications in the world outside of their isolated bubble. Nate not only has two months' experience running back and forth across the Commonwealth with me, he served in an active conflict for almost two decades. If they want a different perspective, he has it.

I glanced down at the smaller man. He was still staring at his son, face blank. Would life here be comfortable? Sure, but it would drive me insane. Relegating myself to a bunker until the day I died… that sounded like my version of hell. That's to say nothing of how the Institute intended to use him.

He turned to me. "What are you going to do?"

"My plans haven't changed."

Holdren cleared his throat. "One moment. We have still not decided whether we agree with Father's proposal. Besides being his parent, what qualifies you to not only join the Institute, but be placed in a leadership position? What makes you better suited for the role than the numerous men and women who have dedicated their lives to the Institute since the day they were born?"

"I-" Nate paused, glancing at Shaun. "I just want to be here for my son."

"That is admirable, especially if the circumstances of your coming here are as… incredible as they seem, but that doesn't answer my question."

The ex-soldier shrugged. "I don't know."

"I intend for my father to prove himself competent, as with everyone else", Shaun said before anyone else could interject. "Poor leadership is the fastest path to collapse. However, I feel we may encounter issues in the near future that may require more than our knowledge."

My eyes narrowed as I studied the Institute leader. The Brotherhood. Was he thinking the same thing? He wanted Nate for his combat experience? Did that mean he'd ask me for help? I have no love lost for the Brotherhood, but I wasn't sure I wanted to give the Institute an advantage.

At some point, I need to start thinking about how I'll get one of these groups on my side, especially the Institute considering I need them. I've worked for ONI. These people could only dream of the shit they do. Hell, they could only dream of some shit I've done.

Morality has never been my concern, that's for brass to worry about.

That didn't ring as true as it would have a few months ago.

Nate was chewing on his lower lip, eyes bouncing between the Institute division leaders. Eventually, he straightened and his gaze settled on the old man. "I'm sorry Shaun- I want to stay here, with you, I want to learn what kind of man you became… without me…" He trailed off, looking like he was struggling to choke down another sob. The ex-soldier took a deep breath before continuing, when he did, his voice still wasn't steady. "You're asking me to do something I- I haven't had time to think about, something I don't know anything about." He glanced at me. "We don't know anything about the Institute besides what we've heard from everyone else, and it hasn't been good."

Shaun nodded. "That is understandable. I have a suggestion that may satisfy everyone, at least in part." He looked at me. "Something that your friend is well suited for. As you are most likely aware, our primary goal is the development and production of Synths. Mankind redefined. Third generation models are remarkable feats of technological accomplishment. However, the superior Synth mind and body attempting to wrestle with something like free will can lead to complications. They can be extremely dangerous if left unsupervised, as you are about to see. A rogue Synth has taken over the Raider gang at Libertalia. His memories have been erased and his identity altered. He believes he is a man named 'Gabriel'. Under his direction, the Raiders have taken many innocent lives."

Erased memories and an altered identity. The Railroad. Something didn't add up there. It's certainly possible the Synth turned to the Raiders, Burner had, and another was a Gunner captain. But the idea all of them were dangerous didn't add up. Curie, Jenny, Sturges, they were all self aware Synths.

"We have decided to dispatch a Courser to Libertalia, I would like the two of you to accompany it and retrieve the Synth."

He wanted us to see how dangerous Synths can be if left to their own devices? Regular people form Raider gangs too. Based on what Curie told us, Synths might be more dangerous than the average drug addicted Raider gang boss, but there's more to this than that.

"Why?"

Everyone in the room turned to me. Ayo's face was red with anger while the other three division leaders seemed curious. Shaun, for his part, was still impassive.

"I'm sure you've heard of the dangers Synths pose to the Commonwealth, but it is a different experience to see it with your own two eyes. They are far more physically and mentally fit than the average citizen."

I opened my mouth but before the words could come out, my mind clamped down on the objection.

Play along, observe, and learn. There's more to this than Shaun is letting on.

Nate and I exchanged a glance and his face told me he wasn't in the right mental space for another gunfight, but would leaving him here be the right decision?

"When do you intend to deploy?"

"As soon as possible", the Institute leader replied. "The longer that Synth is loose, the more innocents are at risk."

I shook my head. "I need intel on the target: location, fortifications, armament, and numbers."

Ayo scoffed. "It's a gang of Raiders. Our Coursers would be more than enough to handle it. You shouldn't have a problem." The doctor managed to sound both offended and condescending at the same time. He was really trying to get on my good side.

"If your Synths can generate more dangerous Raider gangs, they are more effective fighters employing better tactics, correct?"

The head of Synth Retention was staring at me in red faced, wide-eyed rage. Whatever this was, it wasn't just my questioning their decision here.

"That is correct", Shaun said before his subordinate could respond. "They have a well defended position, large numbers, and have mounted several successful caravan raids since Gabriel arrived. If you are going to ask for exact head count, reconnaissance information, or images, we do not have any."

That wasn't any less than I expected from scientists who have never set foot on a battlefield.

"I will need to think about it."

Dr. Ayo seemed to struggle to keep himself seated. "Even if I don't agree with the intent, you are not the one-"

This guy was stretching my already tenuous patience. "You're looking for combat power", I interrupted. "That's me. I'm not along for the ride." And Nate isn't in any condition to make that decision.

"This is pointless Justin", Dr Li added, looking decidedly annoyed with Ayo. "He's correct, and if we are going to pursue Nate's cooperation, it would be smart to also court Damon." She looked at me and nodded. "I believe his reservations are well founded."

"Pointless?" Ayo erupted. "How is 'pointless' to question the motives of-"

Shaun slapped a palm down on the conference table. "Dr. Ayo, I think that's enough." He looked at the two division leaders who had remained silent. "What are your thoughts?"

"It is an interesting prospect", Filmore mused, unaffected by Ayo. Her eyes were fixed on me. "Besides the potential benefits in the field, I believe we can learn much from these two." She met the Institute leader's gaze. "I agree with your proposition."

I've seen the look she gave me before. She wasn't looking at Nate, she was studying an interesting new experiment. 'These two'. Yeah, right.

"Dr. Holdren?"

The blonde haired man nodded. "I will defer to the better judgment of Dr. Li in this matter."

That didn't sit well with Ayo who stood from his chair, staring at his counterpart, seething.

"Then that matter is settled." Shaun glared pointedly at the irate man. "X6-88, would you please escort our guests back to their room?" His gaze shifted to Nate, softening fractionally. "Once we are done here, I will come. I believe it is time we have a discussion… about many things."

The dark skinned Courser separated from its counterparts and stalked toward us. I felt every pair of eyes on my back as we left the conference room. Playing along was the best option, but pulling us into a retrieval wasn't a great way to win our- or I guess my trust. They have to know we've been in contact with the Railroad, and most likely other Synths that had escaped. It's possible they really do think their creations are a danger to the Commonwealth at large, but a case study isn't how you convince someone.

There's something else going on.

X

"I think we should go", Nate said after a long silence. "If we can help, we should."

I glanced at the ex-soldier from my spot sitting opposite the living room's front door. He was back at the small table, like he had been most of the prior day. I agreed with tagging along; helping the Institute wasn't the reason why. Taking out another dangerous Raider is something I'm always up for, but I'm not doing it for people I barely know and don't trust. Nate's perspective was, understandably, skewed here. Shaun was his son, the only thing he has left, even if none of this has happened the way he wanted.

It would be a lie if I said I didn't want to do this to help Nate. We've worked so hard for so long to get to this moment, throwing it away because of an unsubstantiated suspicion would have been petty. Besides… this wasn't just another group in this backasswards world, their leader is Nate's son. It's Shaun.

My eyes roamed the apartment; there were undoubtedly bugs in here. "Yes, but we need to be careful."

The smaller man turned in his chair to meet my gaze. "What do you mean?"

"We don't know what they want."

"We-" Nate blinked, "what do you mean? Shaun wants us to join the Institute."

"Why?"

"Well- because we can be useful."

I leaned back and rested my head against the wall. Nate had his mind elsewhere, and I couldn't blame him for that, considering. Is this just about the Brotherhood? Or is there more?

"Fighting. They need help with the Brotherhood. What next?"

The smaller man frowned. "You're saying- why would they want to fight anyone else?"

There are too many reasons to count. But we don't know anything yet. I wasn't going to risk voicing my suspicions, especially if Nate hasn't come to the same conclusion yet. He had with the Brotherhood, probably before me, but there are more personal issues to consider now.

"I don't know."

His eyes narrowed. The ex-soldier suspected something but he didn't ask. Was he worried someone might be listening in? "Does it really matter right now? I need to be here. I need to be with my son. He's-" Nate took a deep breath. "This isn't what I expected, or what I wanted, but it's all I've got."

All he's got. Shaun is all he's got. I understand that. There are other people relying on us, but that wasn't his concern at the moment.

If they saw me now- my family, what I've become, what would my- No. I don't get to say for them. This isn't about me.

I nodded. "I know."

A small smile found its way onto the smaller man's face. "So you'll help?"

"I'll come."

The smile was replaced by another blank stare. It was a mixture of confusion and the same lost sadness he's had since he found out about Shaun. He was out of it. No matter how irritating the bastard can be, he's observant and has good instincts. I can't count on those for help. I need to be hyper vigilant, both with the Institute, and on this operation. Even given my suspicions I wasn't going to let those ruin this for him. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let them get him killed.

"Don't worry about me. This isn't the time for that. If we're going to do this, you need to have your head in the game. Don't get yourself killed right after you find Shaun."

Silence settled back over the room as Nate continued staring at me. Several moments passed with nothing but the same blank stare until he turned back to look at his hands.

"I'm taking family advice from you now?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Are one of these eggheads gonna do it?"

"Porter seemed nice enough."

"She's a shrink."

He snorted. "Makes better conversation than you."

Well… "That isn't difficult."

The smaller man shot me a wry smile. That was good.

It wasn't long after when several sets of footsteps rang on the thick steel floor in the hall outside. I climbed to my feet as Nate noticed the approaching party and, a moment later, the door slid open to admit Shaun. Several Coursers were in the passage beyond, but they didn't follow as he entered.

"That went about as well as I expected", the Institute leader said. "Dr. Ayo is stubborn, but it's that trait which allows him to so effectively fulfill his position." He looked at me. "Though I must say now we are in private, I am immensely curious about what kind of person can dispatch a Courser in single combat.

"You should have seen the Deathclaws", Nate muttered.

Shaun frowned questioningly at his… younger father. "Deathclaws?"

The ex-soldier met my gaze. As long as he didn't reveal where the fight was, or why we were in the Glowing Sea, it would probably be fine. Virgil didn't want to serve the Institute anymore; now I'm here, I'm starting to understand. He's an incredible source of information, and I have several questions I'd like to ask. On the other hand, Shaun getting a hint at how dangerous I can be without disclosing what I'm able to do might be useful as a deterrent.

I nodded.

"Damon's idea of a good time is fighting a half dozen Deathclaws. Mostly hand to hand."

"Ah", the older man said in a tone that would suggest someone had told him the weather. His eyes betrayed him though; they were running over me with a speed and intensity that made me wonder if it was curiosity or fear. "And just how was he able to do that?"

Nate's mouth opened to answer, but he stopped. Another short glance up at me and he shrugged. "If you can get him to answer that, I'll be impressed."

"Hmm… I can appreciate secrecy, it is what has kept us safe all of these years. Have you decided whether you will accompany our Coursers to Liberteria?"

"I will", I said with a short nod, "provided they follow orders."

That caught him off guard.

"You wish to lead this excursion?"

"Yes. You aren't putting your Synths at risk, you are putting Nate at risk. I'm not taking chances with units I can't trust."

"You are not concerned with placing your life at risk?"

I almost laughed. Putting my life at risk? That's SOP. Putting someone else at risk when it can be avoided, especially someone I don't want to see take a bullet, that's… well it's new, but it's also something I'm going to be exceedingly careful about.

"No. I'm a soldier, he isn't- anymore. You're deploying us on this operation to gain trust, not get killed."

"Damon", Nate interjected before his son could say anything, "I appreciate you're trying to protect me, but I'm the same person who has run back and forth across the Commonwealth with you for the past two months. I can handle myself." His voice and gaze were both neutral and carefully controlled. I think I might have pissed him off.

The person who's been damn near fatally wounded.

"I find myself in agreement with Damon", Shaun said. "You are important to the Institute and… even more important to me. You undertook great risk to get here, and now I'd prefer to minimize that risk. If there were another way for you to appreciate the gravity of this situation, I would employ it."

There are better ways to do it. I wasn't going to object; it gave me the opportunity to see the Coursers in action again. I didn't have much chance to evaluate the first one and, if I'm honest, I'm not the best measuring stick. Taking a longer look at their individual capabilities and squad tactics would be a good idea just in case.

Nate shifted, and shot me an angry glance. He was returning to normal with every passing minute."So what are you suggesting?"

"Overwatch." I turned to Shaun. "I want three Coursers. One will work spotter and security for Nate, the other two with me."

"All of our Coursers are expert marksmen-"

"I trust Nate in a gunfight, I've never fought with your Synths."

"Hmm. And you don't think three of our Coursers along with you and my father is overkill?"

I cocked my head at the Institute leader. Overkill is better than not killing your target. Or capturing it in this case. They rely on their advanced technology, sacrificing sound strategy.

"There's no such thing as overkill", Nate said with a small smile. "I never bought into that, but in a situation like this… I don't see a downside. Unless you don't have the Coursers to spare."

Shaun shook his head. "Quantity is not an issue." He looked from me to Nate and back. "If your cooperation is contingent on leading the mission, I see no issue with handing that over. Dr. Ayo will not be happy, but there is a difference between reading mission reports and being in the field yourself. This could prove to be a useful experience for us as well."

I don't doubt it… "What's your timeframe for this operation?"

"Dr. Ayo intended to send our Coursers out two days before your arrival. We delayed because we knew you were getting close."

"How?" I wasn't necessarily surprised; there were plenty of opportunities for them to monitor us. Had they used us to find the Institute?

"The supplies you retrieved from Pulsonic Manufacturing. We don't know exactly what they are, but there are very few things that use specialized equipment like theirs." He frowned. "I must say, I am curious about the mercenaries you repelled while you were there, and the woman who left with you."

Nate and I locked eyes and, for the first time since yesterday morning, he looked completely alert. "She was hiding from someone", he said slowly. "Those mercenaries were sent by that person."

"I see." Shaun's tone was neutral, but he wasn't just extremely intelligent, to lead an organization like the Institute, he'd have to be shrewd and cunning. I'm probably giving the man too much credit, but it would pay to be careful around him. This might be the only situation that doesn't involve military operations I'm better equipped to handle than Nate.

"Your omission is curious, but I understand I will have to earn your trust, being the Institute's leader." He hesitated, face still unreadable. "Even given our… unique relationship."

"I-" a myriad of emotions washed across my friend's face: sadness, uncertainty, confusion, and grief before it settled into a deep frown. "I've wanted so bad to find you since I woke up. But- there are a lot of people who helped me along the way, and I can't ignore them."

A solemn nod was Shaun's only response for a quiet moment. "That is admirable, father, and understandable given our reputation. As I said, I- hope to earn your trust. Spending what time I can with you has become… more important to me the older I get. Even if it- well- it isn't the way either of us wanted." If his uncertain, halting tone when his speech pattern was usually so controlled and collected was anything to go by, Nate's son seemed to be struggling with his emotions the same way I do. "The Institute is an amazing place, an amazing opportunity, but I have begun to think about everything I missed in its stead."

Nate's frown deepened and the hard crease around his eyes was the same one he had whenever he was upset. "If it was so amazing, they wouldn't have taken you from me. They wouldn't have killed your mother. They-" he caught himself and took a deep breath. "No matter their reasons Shaun, they stole you."

Silence settled back over the room as Shaun studied his father. It wasn't the same impassive stare he'd been wearing to this point, his eyes had a note of… sadness.

"Would you like to know why?"

"Why they stole you?" The older man nodded. "What good would that do me?"

"I do not expect it to be a comfort, but it will help you understand the importance I have had to the Institute. How important you are to the Institute."

The anger radiating from the ex-soldier didn't subside, but he offered a curt nod.

"The Institute's primary goal, as you heard, is the development of Synths. In the pursuit of perfection, they reached an impasse, and to progress further, they needed something they did not possess: pure human DNA. Those above ground are contaminated by endemic radiation, and even the members of the Institute had suffered from it."

I saw where this was going.

"So they decided the best place to go was a preserved baby, shielded from the bombs and radiation", Nate interrupted. Apparently he had too.

"Exactly. The third generation Synths are almost indistinguishable from the average human. That is thanks to my, and by extension, your untainted genetic material." Shaun motioned to himself, then his father. "The Institute used me to produce the greatest possible feat: a synthetic human. So you understand, every third generation Synth is related to us."

"At least we have a backup", Nate whispered. "That's what- that's what Kellogg said after he killed… Nora. 'At least we have a backup.' He was talking about using me as a test subject in case you didn't work."

The Institute leader nodded. "That would be correct."

Nate's anger returned in full force. "Son of a bitch. How can you be okay with that? They were treating you as some lab experiment- something they needed a backup plan for in case you didn't 'work out'."

As inhumane as that sounded, my perspective here was probably closer to Shaun's: an objective is an objective. Would I do what they did? No, but ONI would. Well… ONI did.

"I have had- much more time to consider this. I, unfortunately, cannot fix what has been done. All I can do is continue forward. I do not expect you to view the situation as I do."

Nate snorted. "You're right, that didn't make me feel any better."

"As I said", Shaun replied with a nod. Like a switch was thrown, the older man's demeanor changed from solemn to excited. "I would like to give you a tour of the facility, show you the work we are doing, but similar to you confiding in me, I will need to see you are committed to our cause before I can. On that note", he turned to me, "when would you like to undertake this assignment?"

I could go now, but Nate needed some time.

"Day after tomorrow. I need to meet with the Coursers I'll be working with."

Shaun nodded. "I will make the arrangements." He began to turn, but hesitated again. "Father- I truly hope you decide to support us."

With that, the Institute leader exited with his escort, leaving Nate and I alone in the relatively lavish apartment. He was still seething, but he did his best to keep a lid on it. My strong suit isn't talking, and I don't think he wanted to talk.

Well, I have the better part of two days to kill. This is going to be great.

Notes:

So, no fighting here, but I don't think it would have fit with the chapter. We're dealing with a very difficult moment that has some... interesting repercussions in the near future. Well, here we are at the end again, but worry not, we'll have more to come, along with a few more interesting twists I have in the works for our main characters. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 26

Notes:

Ladies aaaaand gentlemen, we have returned with another installment of 'where the wild stories are'. Also, moving sucks but you aren't here to hear me whine about that. You're here for this story written by someone of questionable sanity! It's time we start getting to know the Institute a bit better, and also some of our main characters' thoughts on them. The Institute is the one part of Fallout 4 I thought Bethesda did a good job setting up, but their execution was a bit of a letdown. They're conniving, and secretive, but they never really played into that in the game. I want to change that. Anyway, let me know what you think if you're so inclined to leave a review, and as always, enjoy!

And they wanted to send a few Coursers into this with no recon or prep.

If it came to a fight between the Brotherhood and the Institute, I doubt the Institute's technological advantage would be enough to overcome their lack of experience. Either they're too confident in it, or they haven't read enough combat theory. They sure as hell haven't been out in the field.

From my vantage point, laying in the wet sand on what was left of a beach about a half klick from the ocean, it looked like 'Libertaria' was essentially a floating shanty town. The 'compound' was made of 23 boats ranging in size from what looked like small rowboats to the tail end of a tanker sticking up from the sea floor. They were all connected with bridges made of planks lashed together with just about anything they could find; rope, wire, clothes, and more.

Most had makeshift structures erected on them to provide shelter for living quarters and storage. A few looked like empty jail cells.

Then there were the Raiders themselves.

Something was different about these ones. Instead of the cobbled together leather and iron plates I've seen from most, they had relatively uniform gear that looked reasonably well cared for. They remind me of what the Railroad use. Most wore thick leather jackets and, while the armor varied from Raider to Raider, it all looked much more effective. Instead of being haphazardly thrown together, most of it seemed to cover vital spots: chest, thighs, forearms, and even a few helmets that looked like they could stop something more deadly than angry thoughts. Their weapons were much more consistent than normal too. Most carried HK-33s, or the 7.62X51 combat rifle Nate had with a few higher powered bolt action rifles mixed in for the overwatch positions posted either on the tanker, or some of the larger surrounding boats.

Between those positions and the 300 meters of open ground or water someone would have to cover in any direction on approach, it would be very difficult to sneak up on the flotilla.

The tanker was clearly their main structure, with at least a dozen Raiders ambling around the hulk. The entire rear section of the ship was converted into a tower, with levels made up of large wooden platforms. They were occupied by everything from sleeping quarters to what might have been common areas and cooking facilities. It made sense; the hulk was almost certainly grounded which meant it wouldn't sink (anymore), and if the structure was sound, it was the most readily defensible position. It was also only accessible by traversing the ships scattered around the bay, which meant if you wanted to get to it, you had to go through the Raiders while the overwatch was taking shots at you from the ship. Not a bad setup. That would be where our target is.

"We're only a few miles from the airport", Nate said from his spot a few meters to my right. He was laying behind a small, rusted hulk that might have been a cart or trailer at one point. The Coursers, a male and two female Synths, were on the opposite side of me. I couldn't tell if they were intently studying the target, bored, or in some kind of sleep cycle.

This had to be quick and relatively quiet. A few shots wouldn't be an issue, but if this took longer than a few minutes, the Brotherhood would almost certainly get curious enough to send a sortie. It would concern any competent commander to have a massive battle so close to their base of operations, and while I admit it begrudgingly, Maxson is more than competent.

"A protracted gunfight would be too risky."

"Yep."

"Explosives." I glanced to my left at the woman who had spoken, the closest Courser with the same black jacket every other Courser I'd seen wear, pale skin, and jet black hair.

"We do not have the numbers to overwhelm them quickly enough. It would be several minutes, longer than we can risk."

As much as my pride hated it, she was right. It wasn't killing the Raiders that would be the problem, it's the unstable platforms we would be fighting from. Nate, the Coursers, the Raiders, they'd be fine. I'm wearing almost a half ton of armor. Moving quickly would be out of the question, and no matter how careful I was, there's always the risk a wrong step would put me in the murky, greenish brown water. Again, not a huge problem, my armor can handle the radiation, and I have two and a half hours of oxygen, but it would be a delay that was unacceptable. Explosions would be useful but…

"Too distinct, and too loud."

"Yeah…" Nate mused and I felt his gaze fall on me. "You're telling me you couldn't get through them fast enough?"

I shook my head. "Not fighting over unstable footing in my armor."

"Oh… right… laser weapons are probably quiet enough to avoid-" he stopped himself with a grunt. "Until they start shooting back."

"Yes."

The issue was how quickly we could eliminate the Raider force and get to the tanker, then fight to and capture the Synth leader. Explosives would shortcut fighting our way through the smaller boats provided we left ourselves a pathway, but they're too loud and would draw unwanted attention.

So how do you quiet down an explosion? There aren't many options, most of them revolve around putting them inside buildings. Or ships. I wasn't sneaking onto the smaller boats, and certainly not the tanker. The Coursers might be able to with their active camouflage… but would those pieces of rusted out crap be enough? No, probably not. What about shortcuting things and going straight for the tanker? I can survive wading through it to the target, so we would be able to split the attack but that wouldn't do much to reduce the engagement time.

"Hey", Nate said, "you've never been dynamite fishing before have you?"

What? I looked at him. Have I been fishing?

Something in my glare must have turned the bastard's brain back on because he grinned sheepishly. "Right, uh, depth charges, do you-" he stopped himself and glanced at the Coursers behind me. "Know how those work?"

"Yes…" I trailed off.

Wait- water. Water can muffle the explosion. He wants to put charges under the boats and blow them. That would work. The concussion wave would destroy most of the smaller boats. I can set charges, and if the Coursers can sneak onto the tanker while I am, before we blow them, they can teleport back to the Institute with the mark.

"Nate- that is… a good idea."

He rolled his eyes. "You say that like I don't have those. Do we have anything that goes boom?"

"Yes", the same Courser said, "I will need to retrieve them from the Institute, allow me a few minutes."

She activated her active camouflage and I watched the faint distortion make its way back toward what was left of the buildings on the west edge of the beach a few hundred meters away. Life would be so much easier with that tech.

"That suit's rad-proof", Nate continued once she was gone, "does it have an air supply?"

I nodded, studying our target and the shoreline in either direction. Time wasn't a concern until the shooting started, so I could take it slow on approach and setting the charges. The further away I entered the water, the better.

As for the explosives themselves… I reached back, looking for any references to the mechanics of underwater detonations. I've never done one in practice, but I'm sure there's something I can apply here, right? Most explosives kill using shrapnel, but like bullets, shrapnel wouldn't travel far in water. The pressure wave should travel much quicker and maintain its energy much further in a thicker medium. That's how depth charges work. I think.

"Dynamite fishing", I said, turning to Nate. "The concussion kills the fish, correct."

He nodded slowly. "If you use too much it can bust a hole in your boat." The smaller man smiled. "I'm kinda excited to use too much." He looked back at the conglomeration of rusted hulks. "I wasn't a combat engineer or EOD, but I've rigged my fair share of explosions. I think…" He trailed off for a moment, studying the boats intently. "Our best bet would be to ring the boats with explosives. Those two large ones in the middle", he motioned at two bobbing forms, decks far above anything besides the tanker, "are going to take a lot to sink. The pressure waves should hit them all at once and boom."

"Overkill wouldn't go amiss here", I muttered.

I caught his smirk out of the corner of my eye. "Just what I was thinking."

15 minutes later I was wading into the sickly looking water a kilometer south of the target with a large pack of charges slung over my left shoulder. They looked like old school plastic explosives, each in a small, waterproof bag. I had the detonator, also protected against the hellish looking ocean, stuffed in one of my armor's pouches.

The other four were still on the beach, scouting the floating compound. In 10 minutes, after I began seeding the ocean floor with explosives, the two Coursers who would assist in the assault, X6-88, and the woman who had retrieved the explosives, X2-17, would slip onto the tanker. Five minutes after I placed the explosives and climbed out of the water, I would detonate, and that's when the fun began.

My trek through the silty, disgusting water was slow and arduous. My titanium boots sunk up to the calf with each step. While walking through the water wasn't an issue, maintaining my footing while also circumventing the clusters of wrecked boats littering the ocean floor was a pain in the ass.

Suck it up, I've dealt with worse. I smiled. That was certainly true. An early mission came to mind, trudging through a swamp while it was raining to give myself the best bet to sneak up on an Innie outpost without being detected. The armor I had at the time was even heavier than my current suit. I got stuck on four separate occasions. Now that sucked.

I arrived underneath the cluster a few minutes early. That was probably a good thing. Visibility on my way in was terrible, and it hadn't gotten any better. The floor here was scattered with even more wreckage than along the shore.

Each charge was about the size of my forearm, and heavy enough to settle into the silty ocean floor. I did my best to walk a consistent path, but there was enough debris I had to place several explosives slightly out of position. That probably wouldn't be an issue, but that's part of the reason Nate and the third Courser would be on shore: it'll be easy for them to clean up any survivors.

It struck me odd there were no traps, at first, but then, why would there be? This water was heavily irradiated. No one would be dumb enough to try this, and if they were, they'd be dead in no time without a suit of power armor. The Brotherhood had only shown up a few weeks ago, and they wouldn't mess around with tricks like this.

After 10 minutes of struggling with poor footing and wreckage scattered along the floor, I finally placed the last charge and began toward the tanker.

I had been right; the nose of the ship had buried itself in the sand and, while it's deck sloped relatively steeply into the ocean floor, the 20 meter climb was easy. There were a few times a corroded piece of the ship broke away under my weight. After the first, I made sure I had at least two points of contact at all times so I didn't sink back to the sand below.

As I neared the surface I checked my mission clock. Two minutes. I settled on a small bulkhead a few meters below the waterline and waited.

This part sucked. Having no sort of communication with the rest of my team was a major handicap, but I wasn't going to risk using any traceable equipment from the Institute. I guess I just have to hope they make it on time. If they don't… I'll be doing this myself. Nothing new there.

The last 30 seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly. Rushing is a great way to blow an op though, and the last thing I need now is the Brotherhood on my ass.

I crept toward the water's surface as the final seconds ticked by. I couldn't see much through the murky water, but I remember a makeshift platform was just above me. It was the tanker's connection to the network of bridges running between the boats. It wasn't one of the ship's steel bulkheads, so I'd have to be careful.

Three.

Two.

One.

As the final second ticked by, my legs coiled tight and I Iaunched myself out of the sickly green water-

Straight into one of the Raiders.

The short, stocky woman didn't have time to register surprise before a half ton of titanium slammed into her. The collision sent the unsuspecting Raider bastard careening backwards into the ship's slanted hull. I couldn't stay here. The moment I detonated the charges, this platform constructed out of wooden beams lashed together with rope would be turned into splinters.

My first victim was trying to shake the disorientation when I rammed my knee into her head. It slammed into the bulkhead and turned into a red burst of blood, bone, and brains.

A second and third on the platform we're just beginning to respond to my sudden appearance when I caught the telltale shimmer behind them. In unison, their throats were slashed open, and the two men tumbled to the deck, grasping at the massive gashes.

"Move", I said, pointing at the next deck.

The two mostly invisible Coursers began up the crude, wooden staircase and I followed close behind. It groaned worryingly under my weight, but held.

When I joined the two Synths, I found them standing over another dead Raider, throat cut the same way. They were certainly efficient.

I pulled the detonator from its waterproof pouch and dropped to the deck. "Fire in the hole!"

An instant after I jammed my thumb down on the firing stud, a deep rumble reverberated it's way up the steel hull. Before I could turn to look, the rumble turned into a violent shake, then an outright eruption. I felt, more than heard the massive plume of water explode from the ocean beneath us.

High pressure seawater slammed into me hard enough to bounce me off of the ship's deck, and overloaded the Coursers' active camo. I grabbed X2-17 to keep her from tumbling from the platform while X6-88 crashed to the deck.

I managed to force my head around to look at my handiwork. That was pointless. I couldn't see anything through the still erupting mass of water showering us. So instead, I focused on maintaining my grip on the Courser and keeping both of us from taking an unwanted dive.

After a second or two, the shaking slowed to a stop, and the water stopped surging upwards. It began showering down on us in a deluge that felt like I was trapped in a waterfall. The pounding roar sure sounded like it. If my armor didn't weigh so much, I would have been swept back into the ocean with it. As it was, I still had to grasp for the bulkhead beside me to keep X2-17 and I rooted in place. I couldn't see the second Courser through the sheets of water pouring down around us.

Several loud thuds sounded, and twice the platform we were on vibrated under impacts. That might have been Raiders losing their battle with the falling water.

Eventually, the cascade of water slowed enough for me to see the black form of X6-88 clinging to the wooden platform where he had fallen. I glanced down into the bay below us-

Pieces. The collection of boats that had made up Libertalia were little more than pieces slowly drifting down to rest with the rest of the wreckage on the ocean floor.

As soon as the downpour of water was slow enough to be safe, I released the Courser's arm.

"On me", I barked as I pushed myself back to my feet. We needed to move fast, the Brotherhood may not have seen the plume of water from behind the rows of crumbling buildings, but there was no point in taking that risk.

We climbed the next several flights without incident. Looks like those were Raiders caught in the downpour.

It wasn't until the third platform when I found three of the hateful bastards gaping at what was left of the boats below the tanker. One of them at least had the presence of mind to consider there were probably attackers, because she had her rifle in hand and was turning to the staircase as I crested it.

It's the thought that counts.

Three trigger pulls later, two of them had tumbled from the platform, bouncing off of the ones below before plunging into the water, each with a hole burned through the side of their head. The third had just enough time to register shock before a laser speared through her left eye and she tumbled to the ground.

A distant cough sounded and I heard a heavy thud, then another, before another raider's body slammed down in front of me.

I glanced toward where Nate was laying, just cresting the edge of a berm almost 500 meters away. The shot was through his target's neck.

Not bad.

We continued up the tanker past several watch posts, a few beds, now drenched beyond usability, cooking facilities, and full, covered common areas Hell, these people had several sets of living quarters set up out here. I had to wonder how long this Synth has been their leader. If they had infrastructure like this, set up in a position that would have been very difficult to assault if it weren't for my armor, expanding wouldn't be difficult. It again crossed my mind how stupid it was for Ayo to think he could send a few Coursers out here to do this with no recon or planning.

Then, as X2-17 and I dispatched another pair of Raiders one platform below the Tanker's uppermost level, a new thought occurred to me. This gang seemed pretty well established, why would the Institute let them get this far? Did they not know?

Something to consider another time.

A half dozen impacts preceded their subdued reports from the beach, but this time I didn't hear anyone get hit. That meant they were probably dug in.

I turned to the two Coursers and motioned toward the final staircase. "Camo."

They nodded in unison and faded from view, their subtle shimmer the only sign they were still there.

The two of them climbed to the platform above and, a few seconds later, there was a wet tearing noise I knew all too well as the telltale sound of someone having their throat torn open. Then another.

"SHIT!" someone shouted from the platform above. "We got someone up here."

I took that as my cue.

Bounding up the staircase, my eyes raced around the large platform with several enclosed sleeping quarters, what looked like the bridge of a smaller ship, and a half dozen still living Raiders. I sighted on the first man, hidden behind a crate to my right. My first shot was low, lancing into the base of his neck, just over his left collarbone. The second hit him in the left ear as he fell to the ground.

My rifle found the second, a short man who was frantically searching for the camouflaged Coursers, and put him down too.

A few seconds later, it was over. Seven Raiders were dead, and I doubt they ever knew what was killing them.

The last living member of the gang that wasn't currently bathing in a radiation bath was on the wooden deck, pinned by X2-17.

"The fuck are you? Institute?"

"Yes", the woman said,

A distant pounding drew my attention to the south. That concussion was unmistakable. The Vertibirds themselves were still blocked by the skyline, but they were coming.

Our time was up. Dammit. I didn't want to leave. Run. I wanted to stay, ambush whatever recon force the Brotherhood was sending out. Capture a few, interrogate them, find where Julian is, gather intel on their operations. But that isn't the mission, and as much as I hate to admit it, doing that would be a terrible idea. I need to create the right opportunity.

Wait.

Maybe there is something I can do here.

I turned to the beach and twirled a finger over my head and, a few seconds later, the telltale flash of the Institute's science fiction teleportation system exploded where Nate and the other Courser had been.

"Take the package back to base", I said to X2-17 before looking at her counterpart. "With me."

Both Synths hesitated.

"I would like to inquire about your intentions", the X6-88 said, voice as flat as ever.

"Recon the Brotherhood sortie, determine the resources they use, look for an opportunity to capture one of their soldiers."

The two Institute combatants turned to one another and, after a moment's hesitation, shared a nod.

"That is agreeable."

I'm glad, I wasn't asking permission. If they hadn't I would have told them to leave and set up a secondary rendezvous. This was an opportunity too good to pass up.

X2-17 and their now cooperative Synth disappeared in another flash of light, leaving me alone with someone with, somehow, even less personality than me.

"Does your active camouflage also block infrared?"

"Partially. It is primarily used for the visible light spectrum."

I don't know the Brotherhood have IR optics, but I also don't know they don't. After giving it a moment of thought, I decided it didn't matter anyway. We needed to stay together in case we need to bug out.

We moved back down the platforms toward the sickly looking green water as the Vertibirds emerged over the skeletal cityscape to the southwest. There were four of the bulbous aircraft. I couldn't stop myself from wondering if one of them was the VTOL that had survived the ambush. My mind flashed back to the image of Julian meeting my eyes, terror and confusion plastered on his young, unmarred face.

I'd failed him. I'd failed everyone. And the Brotherhood took Julian away from the last people he knew.

Ire began rising, tinging my thoughts red. I was mad at the Brotherhood; they ambushed us. They took Julian. I was mad at Diamond City for cooperating with those fundamentalist bastards. But I was an order of magnitude more upset with myself. How-

Stop. Relax. Pay attention. I can't change what happened, but this is one mistake I can still fix. I have to fix it.

Right…

I took a deep breath and shook myself loose.

It looks like they learned the mantra 'there's no such thing as overkill' after their ambush. 10 people and one of their extremely limited aircraft will do that. Each of those can hold six to eight armored soldiers. I'd rather not find out what I'd have to do to eliminate 30 plus well equipped soldiers without the appropriate hardware. Capturing someone will be difficult if they practice good squad tactics.

Then I need to take what I can get and go. I've had plenty of operations almost blown because I was trying to do too much when I didn't need to. How the Brotherhood responds to this disturbance can tell me a lot, there's no need to press.

As we reached the lowermost level, the four Vertibirds began circling what was left of the flotilla. It wasn't a complicated maneuver, but it was well performed. The aircraft were high enough and moving fast enough, small arms fire would be largely ineffective, and they would have a chance to avoid any larger ordinance sent their way.

The combination of well-practiced and amateurish execution was strange. Their ambush and exfil in Diamond City had been terrible, yet here they were carrying out a damn near text book sortie and, most likely, insertion. Their assault on the Supermutants had been simple and went sideways quickly, but Danse had rallied his people and they recovered.

If I had to guess, their organization wasn't large enough, or experienced enough to have a sufficient number of competent commanders. It wasn't uncommon in smaller insurrectionist cells, the best way to deal with that is to take them out quickly. The more engagements they have and survive, the more experience they get, the more dangerous they are. My question is resources.

I watched as two of the VTOLs drifted down to the beach and deposited their cargo: 16 Brotherhood soldiers wearing T-60 power armor. They fanned out and began scanning the area in pairs while the aircrafts' rotors began pounding at the air, pulling them from the damp sand.

So it seems they learned from the ass kicking they got in Diamond city. The next time I hit them, I need to make sure there's nothing valuable they can learn, or I don't leave anyone alive to learn it. That means it will need to be carefully controlled. I glanced at the Courser crouched next to me. If I can get the Institute to cooperate, that shouldn't be a problem.

As far as what I can learn, I've gotten as much as I need from this exercise.

"Let's go."

X6-88 nodded before another blinding flash enveloped us-

And we were standing in one of the Institute's Relay pods, like the one Nate and I appeared in the first time around. This time, I didn't feel like my guts were trying to jump out of my throat.

"X6-88 transition complete", an automated voice announced, and the Courser stepped through the small door ahead of us.

"Please follow me", he said, "Father would like you to witness B5-92's interview."

Interview. They're putting on a show. If the Institute's only goal was reclamation, which is what they've preached to this point, they would do whatever they have to to reset it. They want Nate and I to hear what this thing's done. Might as well go along.

I followed the Courser through the Institute's winding, white washed halls filled with wide eyed eggheads hurriedly squeezing themselves to the sides as we passed, but my thoughts were still on the Brotherhood sortie. I did the right thing, made the safe choice, but it still felt like I should have done more. 32 soldiers? Even if they'd been in power armor, I could have figured out a way to capture one. The Vertibirds would have been a problem, but if I'd done it fast enough… I'd be that much closer to getting Julian back. I'd be that much closer to getting rid of the Brotherhood.

But I knew that was irrational. I've taken enough chances over the past few months. I've screwed up enough times doing things how I felt like doing them since coming here. I need to reassess and approach things differently, and diving into a half baked ambush isn't that.

Eventually, X6-88 led me through a final door that whispered shut behind us. As with most of the rooms in this place, it was a laboratory, but the equipment here was… strange. Instead of the machinery I'd expect, like what Curie had, it was occupied by a chair, contoured to fit a person almost perfectly, with small contacts throughout, especially around the head. The apparatus was connected to a computer bank with a technician behind it, tapping away at a keyboard. She didn't look up as we entered, thoroughly engrossed in whatever she was working on.

"X6-88", another technician said as he walked through an entrance on the far end of the lab, "please come in, we are about to start the debriefing."

The Courser nodded and followed the short, bald man back through the sliding metal door. I hesitated. Something about the room was… uncomfortable. It was just as well lit and had the same antiseptic feel as every other centimeter of this place, with the same white washed walls and cool white indirect lighting. Why was this room different? My gaze wandered from the technician who still hadn't looked up, to the chair, and then through the far door.

I didn't feel as though I were in danger, I just… don't like this room.

After a few seconds, I exited the lab and found myself standing in what looked like a small conference room. X2-17 was there along with Nate, Shaun, X6-88, and the tech. A large viewing screen was set in the far wall with a feed from some bare, featureless room, the only occupants, a table and two chairs. One of them was empty, Gabriel, or B5-92, was sitting in the other.

As I stopped beside him, the ex-soldier shot me a questioning glance, but he seemed more preoccupied with what was happening in the room.

Shaun cleared his throat. "I'm glad you've returned unharmed. This is a normal part of our reclamation process. We interview the recovered Synths to determine what has happened since their escape. Our primary objective is to identify and eliminate potential security risks and mitigate the chances of incursions, but it is also a good reminder of how dangerous they can be if left without direction."

That sounded a lot like they wanted to gather intel on the Railroad. Why wouldn't they ask? They had to know we used the Railroad to get here, so why wouldn't they ask? I wouldn't give them any information, but would Nate?

That would put Cassandra and Thomas at risk. More than that, he knows what would happen to the Railroad if he gave the Institute intel on them.

"Z1-43", Shaun said into an intercom set in the wall, "please commence interview."

"Yes, Father", came the deadpan response. A moment later a door under the camera swung open and another courser, this one male, slipped into the room. He sat in the empty chair opposite the still motionless Synth. "B5-92, reactivate."

The stationary form shifted, and the now former Raider raised his head. His rugged, scarred face didn't have the open hostility I'd seen during the fight; if anything, I'd describe it as blank.

"How can I be of service?" Gabriel, or B5-92 asked, voice equally as emotionless.

"We are here to discuss your actions during your time separated from the Institute."

The Synth nodded absently. "Yes. I joined a Raider gang in Libertalia."

"Do you have any knowledge of your actions prior to this?"

Silence drifted over the small room as B5-92 considered the question.

"I do not", he said eventually. "My memories after… strange. My memories up until shortly before joining have been scrubbed. I am unable to recover anything."

That didn't surprise me, the people at the Railroad are smart; any memories of the escape or whatever they did to help would be information the Institute could use to close off avenues of escape, and track the cell down. By the lack of a response, it didn't seem to catch Shaun off guard either.

"Understandable", the Courser interviewer said, "please explain what occurred during your time with the Libertalia group."

The Synth nodded. "When I first arrived, the Raiders were primarily focused on securing drugs, very little attention was given to our armament, equipment, and safety. I began by gathering information on how they had operated to that point, and what their standing was with other gangs. Once I knew the capabilities of their fighters, their supplies, and the other gangs in the area, I eliminated Kang, the leader when I joined, and obtained leadership of the group. Once this was done, I began consolidating or eliminating the outlying gangs and fortified our position in the bay."

"Please describe how you obtained supplies."

"We primarily attacked smaller outlying settlements in the northeastern regions of the Commonwealth. Supply caravans along I-90 and I-95 were also targets. We were unable to monopolize the area because of the Forged, however we were in the midst of negotiating a non-aggression agreement when they were eliminated."

It sounds like I inadvertently did this guy a favor. Before wiping his gang out too.

"We are also aware many of your boats contained holding cells. Would you please explain your use for those?"

"Many of our later recruits were captured during attacks. Some of them were also sold into slavery, or used for recreational purposes."

Maybe I'm not the right one to talk about questionable morality (though I've never reached that point), but hearing someone describe rape as 'recreational' and in such a detached manner felt… wrong. Unfortunately, I wasn't hearing anything I didn't already expect. I've seen smaller enclaves and insurrectionist outfits who operate more like some of the Raiders here. The strategies and tactics this Synth employed weren't a surprise either; any rational leader would do what he did. I suppose in a world where these Raiders are considered a credible threat, that type of planning would be considered uncommon.

"Your original programming was security, and you were selected for Courser training prior to your escape. Did you retain any of those memories after the Railroad interference."

B5-92 shook his head. "Not explicitly. However, many of the ideas and strategies I used to consolidate and fortify our position were derivative. Now that some of my memories have been restored I see they found their roots in it."

"The Railroad was not able to completely wipe B5-92's programming", the technician mused. "It is possible they were unable to completely destroy his memories of the escape and interactions with them."

"Yes", Shaun said, "I believe a more intensive scan with this subject may yield useful information."

"Agreed."

Whether or not Shaun's goal with this exercise is to convince Nate and I the best place for Synths is with the Institute, all he's done so far is convince me neither they nor the Railroad know how to handle this situation. They're more concerned with pursuing their own, narrow vision than actual progress. Considering what I've seen, as much as I hate to acknowledge, Maxson's fear and bigotry against Synth makes sense. However, that's through no fault of the Synths. I don't know enough about them to determine whether there is something fundamentally wrong, but even then, that's on the Institute.

"So…" Nate said before trailing off. His voice still sounded… dazed. "If the Railroad hadn't wiped his memories, would this have happened?"

Shaun shook his head. "Most likely not."

There were so many things I could say, but the situation is probably more complicated than I'm giving it credit for. The Railroad wipes (most) Synths' memories for their own safety. While I agree, at least in part, with Curie's assessment, I could also see it from their perspective. As for the Institute… I don't know.

"I understand you used their help to get here", the Institute's leader looked at me, "but they are a threat to everything we are doing here."

He's known me for less than 72 hours and he's already pulling this shit? I'm accustomed to being used for my… unique talents, but this guy had some balls on him if he thought he could ask me to do his dirty laundry this soon.

I glanced at Nate. He didn't seem to pick up on the implication.

"You haven't convinced me", I said, squaring up to Shaun. I was close enough he had to crane his neck to meet my gaze, but Nate's son looked more bored than anything.

"This is not an uncommon occurrence. If you'd like to see our records of recovered-"

"No. You want me to kill someone for you. A lot of someones. You're a scientist, you know the difference between statistical and anecdotal evidence." That wasn't strictly the reason I wasn't willing to cooperate. Something about this situation was raising alarm bells and it went beyond my normal suspicions.

What was it?

"You do not seem to have a problem killing."

"It depends on the circumstances. Raiders are Raiders, the Railroad is something different."

"Is that so? Several of the Synths they have 'helped' have become Raiders. They are just as if not more damaging than any individual band of Raiders you have wiped out."

"Damon", Nate interjected before I could respond, voice uncertain, "I think he might have a point. They don't seem like bad people, but… if what they're doing leads to people getting hurt…" he turned to his son, voice growing more assertive. "That being said, I don't think they're ill-intentioned. Nothing I've seen warrant's killing them."

Shaun met the ex-soldier's gaze.

I didn't like it but… what could I say? I'm still not sure what has me so on edge. Sure, the Institute could be doing more, but with threats like the Brotherhood, and the outright prejudice of the citizens in the Commonwealth, their caution and isolation makes sense. Beyond that, my suspicions, and aggression, with the Brotherhood, while they turned out to be well placed, were part of the reason why they moved before I did, and why they now had Julian.

Long story short, I don't have enough information to make a decision either way, and making a bad decision is why I've spent the last two and a half weeks hiding.

It's possible Nate's right. Neither of us have enough info to make a reasonable decision.

So what, I do nothing?

For now, yes.

I hate doing nothing, almost more than anything. I can't let my preferences affect my decisions. The Brotherhood were a means to an end, I was going to betray them at some point regardless. So are the Institute, but they're a means to leaving this place…

Maybe.

Eventually.

Until then, I need to stay on their good side. Acting on no information isn't how I do that.

"What do you suggest?" The Institute's leader asked.

Nate shook his head. "I don't know yet." He glanced at me. "We have people we care about there."

"The children you rescued from the Supermutants?"

So they have eyes everywhere. It's little wonder why the Railroad is so meticulous.

"Yeah… except for one." The ex-soldier cast his eyes to the steel floor between his feet.

"When the Brotherhood ambushed you. They took one."

"You- uh- wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

My heart leapt. They might- if the Brotherhood doesn't have the same protocols in place as the Railroad, it's possible the Institute would be able to track them.

Shaun shrugged. "He is not someone we considered a person of interest."

The hope skipped disappointment and went straight to borderline rage.

"Not… a person of interest", I bit out. A young kid who just watched his world destroyed, captured by a fanatical cult (though I'm starting to understand their motives) isn't someone worth their time?

"I apologize for the loss", the grey haired man said, voice slow and measured, "and I appreciate how much you both care for this boy. I don't mean any disrespect."

Nate held up a hand to me. "Wait, I know what you're going to say." His voice was clipped, but still calm. The smaller man looked at his son. "You guys have eyes everywhere, it seems, but I'm guessing your resources are limited, so you prioritize."

"That is correct."

"Well, considering he is important to people you're now relying on, would you be able to dedicate resources to tracking him down?"

Damn. Whatever was going on in Nate's head, he still had it on straight enough to know when to use the leverage he has.

I tamped down my ire, but it didn't extinguish completely. The fact they hadn't considered Julian important enough to keep tabs on wasn't what got me, that makes sense, it was the nonchalance Shaun had answered with. I guess I should be used to it, considering who I worked for.

This time's a little different.

True.

"I suppose so", the older man said eventually. "We can dedicate some of our resources to finding him, however we are unfamiliar with how the Brotherhood operates. Would you be able to advise on the best course of action?"

I nodded. "Yes." This could be a good opportunity to gather intel on the Brotherhood's other operations as well.

"Good. Now, after you've had time to unwind from your fight, I would like to offer you the opportunity to see more of our facilities and the more significant projects we are undertaking."

Yesterday you were too suspicious to give us a tour, now it's fair game? That was certainly suspicious, but there are situations it makes sense. If he's trying to dazzle with advanced technology, he's going to be sorely disappointed by my response.

"I'm sure you'd like something to eat, we can have food brought to your room."

Nate met my gaze. "Food sounds good."

As X6-88 led us back to the small apartment, I couldn't help the unease building in my gut. Shaun wanted us to help the Institute, that wasn't a surprise. They have little to no combat experience, and their fighting force, at least from what I've seen, isn't capable of engaging the Brotherhood.

But then what?

I have a bone to pick with the cult, more so than they do, but what will they do with the experience they gain? The fighting force they would have to build?

It was odd, worrying about what the Institute would do to this wasteland once this fight is over, once I leave. No… not the wasteland. Most people here don't like me, and the feeling is mutual. But there are people I do care about. What happens to them? I'm not sure the Institute would be a better option than whatever the Brotherhood has planned if they defeated them. They certainly don't seem to think highly of anyone not in their underground 'paradise'.

Once we reached the room, Nate stripped his gear and piled it on the table. He looked down at himself, his pants, shirt, vest, and jacket sandy from laying on the beach.

"I'm gonna take a shower." He smiled. "Is it strange that feels weird to say after getting used to… less luxurious ways of staying clean?"

"I guess. Showers have never been common for me."

The smaller man snorted. "Do I want to know what you smell like in that tin can?"

My armor- "My undersuit recirculates bodily fluids and has an antibacterial lining."

This time he laughed. "That's what gets you to talk about your equipment? A little sensitive are we?"

About my armor? The only constant for me over the past 8 years? The closest thing I have to a home?

"Yes", I bit out.

My voice must have carried the irritation because Nate's sarcasm dried up almost instantly. "Okay. I get it."

Relax. How is he supposed to know? This situation has me strung out.

Right.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Hey, I guess I can't complain, that armor's been pretty damn useful." He frowned, some of his constant, usually annoying curiosity seeping back into his expression. "Is it only- uh, never mind." The ex-soldier glanced around the room pointedly. Whatever he wanted to ask was something he didn't want the Institute to hear, or thought I wouldn't.

He began slipping his jacket off and groaned. "That shower's been calling my name too long now."

As he walked back into the bedroom, it struck me odd that he was in such a… good mood. It was a massive turnaround in two days, especially considering the circumstances. Is that a good thing? I'm still trying to figure out my own emotions, speculating on someone else's probably isn't going to get me anywhere useful.

Five minutes after the loud rush of water began, Porter arrived with two more trays full of food. After depositing them on the small table, she hesitated, pulling the band holding her bar back out and retying it. She looked nervous.

Someone's nervous around me? That's a first.

Whatever.

"Damon-" she started before falling silent for a moment. The slim, athletic woman looked me up and down, carefully avoiding my gaze. "I know Nate is the one who has been most affected by this, and I would never make a judgement on someone I've just met, but I can understand if this situation is difficult for you as well." Her eyes finally found my visor. "Don't hesitate to ask if you'd like someone to talk with. If you do, I can promise I will be the only one privy to it." Porter offered an uncertain smile.

She'd be the only one privy to whatever I said? Right. There were a whole lot of ways she could screw me over without telling anyone what I said. The shrink seemed sincere; her speech was smooth and uninterrupted, and while she was uncomfortable, it didn't look to be any more than the normal nervous energy most people have around older SPARTANs. Then again, I'm not the best at reading people.

Diplomacy. I need their help.

I shrugged mentally and offered her a nod. "Understood."

Porter's uncertain smile grew a little more confident before she returned my nod and turned to leave.

Once the door slid shut, I looked at the food sitting on the trays. This time was something that looked like fish on a salad with some kind of purple berry mixed in. The fare looked delicious, and it again drew my mind back to Cassandra and Thomas. Why do I deserve this? Why am I eating this when they're stuck with the Railroad, surviving off of whatever their temporary caretakers could scrape together (usually some sort of tough, bland meat and, if they're lucky, fruit). What would Julian be eating? During our time with the Brotherhood, most of what we ate were essentially much MREs.

I slipped my helmet off and picked up one of the trays. It wasn't fair. They should be eating this, not me.

Fair. I'm talking about what's fair?

When I can control it, yes.

Nate's shower took long enough that, by the time he re-emerged with still wet hair and clean clothes, I'd been done eating and my thoughts were drifting back over the day's events.

"Damn", he said, sitting at the table. "That smells amazing." The ex-soldier picked up his fork to start eating, but he paused, just before pushing it into the fish. "This reminds me… of one of Nora's best dinners: seared lemon rosemary Salmon. She- made it for me three times. The first time she cooked for us, the day I got back… for the last time, and-" he cleared his throat, "the day after we got the news about Shaun."

So he isn't in a good mood?

He set the fork back down and leaned back in his chair. I watched as he stared up at the ceiling in silence. The smaller man was taking deep, controlled breaths, struggling against the rattle I could just make out, deep in his chest. I couldn't tell if this was over his son, his wife, or both.

It was odd, I could relate to loss, but his was different. I lost my family when I was barely old enough to understand it. Nate lost his wife, and then found out the life he wanted with his child had always been out of reach. It's like-

"Why don't you ever take your helmet off in front of other people?"

I blinked at the ex-soldier. He was staring at me.

"What?"

He shrugged. "Cass asked about it when you were on your second sortie."

Why don't I take my helmet off around others? I do- or I did, just not many.

"It's never something I've made a habit of. I'm more comfortable around most people with it on." Especially here.

"Did you do it around other- with your squad."

I nodded. "I was ordered to."

A smirk found its way onto his face. "It took an order? Stubborn asshole. You ever gonna take it off around anyone here?"

What was the point of this conversation? "Why?"

"Well… Cass spent most of those two days speculating."

"That's her, why are you asking?"

The ex-soldier shrugged. "It's strange to know someone this long and not know what they look like."

That was a good point. Why wasn't I willing to take my helmet off around them? Nate knows more about me than… anyone besides my handler, and they only know what is necessary for operational purposes. Cassandra, she might not know as much about me as Nate, but the way she looked at me, she understood my story in the way very few could. Thomas- and Julian, they were young, but still had more in common with me than most. If I couldn't feel comfortable around people like Alexandra, Ellie, Sturges, or Preston, why couldn't I around the four people who know me better than anyone else?

I don't know, but something still sat wrong. It wasn't because they weren't SPARTANs, plenty of regs had seen me without my helmet.

"Most people know me by this", I finally said, motioning to my helmet. "Even the people who have seen me without it."

My companion watched me for a few silent seconds before responding. "Doesn't that get lonely?" His voice was low, almost non-existent.

Lonely? I'd never thought about it. If people know me, what does it matter whether they know my face, or my visor? I'm a SPARTAN, most don't know much about us past the armor. Besides-

"I've been alone a long time. Spending time around people- willingly- is relatively new for me."

He blinked. "I guess that's probably something I can't understand."

It was my turn to shrug. "Don't know if there's much to understand."

"Damon", he said, voice dry as Commonwealth, "if there's anyone who is maddeningly difficult to understand most of the time, it's you."

I cocked my head. I'm difficult to understand?

"It's fine." Nate picked his fork back up. "We're supposed to be going on a tour soon, right? That's probably going to give me more answers than you."

X

After two hours of walking the facility, I'd be lying if I said a part of me wasn't impressed. We were standing in the Institute's central hub, the cavernous room we'd seen from the inside of the tube running down its center, fashioned to look like a double helix on our way in the first time. The hub probably had more healthy looking flora lining walls, and in glass enclosures than the entirety of the Commonwealth. The structure itself was no less impressive, with walkways spanning the massive enclosure at a half dozen different levels above us. Scientists, workers, and Synths, many of that last group armed, milled along the passages, some casting glances our way as they passed. Maybe it was just the result of growing used to the desolate wasteland above, but the Institute was a sight to behold.

With Nate and I were Dr. Porter, who seemed to have appointed herself as our official escort, as well as two other Institute scientists, Dr. Grant Olson, and Dr. Ronda Wells. They had led us on our tour of the Institute, meeting with several other scientists, including the department heads once more.

Ayo was just as short and aggressive as he had been in the conference room, leveling most of his ire at me. This time, it seemed more out of defensiveness than anything. The guy was genuinely convinced there couldn't be a more effective combat unit than his Coursers. I wasn't sorry to spoil that for him. The Coursers were good, but they were very clearly made by people who had never seen combat. Nate tried to interject, but I stopped him. Seeing the asshole squirm was… cathartic.

After a few minutes of not learning much, I got bored and we made our way to the advanced systems division, Dr. Li's area. This one was much busier than the SRD, with dozens of scientists and technicians working in everything from small laboratories to a massive room resembling a hangar. I didn't recognize most of the projects, but the few I could were weapons and armor. Ayo mentioned something about this division making some improvements to the Coursers, armament and defense is probably one of Dr. Li's responsibilities.

Regardless of what they used for, every workspace was damn near spotless. Every inch of the antiseptic halls and rooms full of lab or fabrication equipment, cleaned so thoroughly, it felt like my visor should be polarizing to block some of the intensely reflected light. It was… eerie.

As Porter was about to lead us out of the ASD, Dr. Li grabbed my wrist.

"I'd like a moment if you have the opportunity tomorrow morning", she said, staring up at me with an intensity in her sharp, angular eyes that piqued my curiosity.

"What for?"

"A personal matter."

I glanced at the other four who had stopped and were watching us.

"Just me?"

She nodded before releasing my arm.

Why? I stopped short of voicing the question. There were three reasons she would be asking to see me alone: she needs something she can't trust someone in the Institute with, she wants to try her luck attacking me, or she wants me away from Nate. The possibilities were interesting, not the least of which is her distrust of the Institute, the place she lives. Hadn't she said she was from the outside during the meeting the other day? Does it have something to do with that? I'd have to learn more before deciding, but this might be a good opportunity to play along for more info.

"Maybe."

Li offered another curt nod. "I'll come by your room."

Why would she want me instead of Nate? Did this 'personal matter' involve needing someone dead?

I turned back to the waiting group and we began toward the facilities department. I observed and listened while we spoke with Dr. Filmore as she gave us a short tour of her workspace. It wasn't as expansive as the advanced systems division, but from the sounds of it, most of her people worked around the Institute on repairs and upkeep. Thoughts about Dr. Li and what she might want were my focus. It wasn't only curiosity, there were several worrying implications, regardless of which option she chose.

Dr. Holdren's division, Bioscience, piqued my interest. Expansive hydroponics farms growing a larger variety of plants than I've ever seen in one place, a complex irrigation system, and at least as many technicians attending to them as in the ASD.

Then there was the 'animal farm'. I didn't know if it was derivative of their Synth technology, and Holdren wasn't willing to tell, but they had what were essentially brainless animals 'growing' in large batches, feed and oxygen tubes running to the 'animals'. So this is how they get fresh meat, they grow it, like a plant. That's two technological advancements this place has the UNSC would love to have.

Just like with the ASD, everything was utterly spotless, too spotless for an agricultural facility.

"Ho- what the hell?" Nate said, boggling at the… things. "These are… animals? Why do it like this?"

The blonde haired division leader grinned. "These only have the basic necessities to survive and mature: basic nervous system, simple vascular and respiratory systems, but a full fledged digestive system. It's more humane, they require about a third the resources necessary for a full animal, and we can maximize the edible portions of the resulting creatures."

Holy shit. My mind went back to Sanctuary, to Cassandra and Thomas, the Finches, hell, even to the people in the city. What could all those people do with this type of technology? The means to help, but decide not to.

"How does this scale?"

Holdren's gaze turned to me, eyes narrowed. "Better than normal farm animals, why?"

The BioScience division leader's answer didn't surprise me, but I still felt a twinge of disappointment. "Your intentions are to stay down here long term?" He nodded, expression incredulous. "Curious about the long term viability."

"As much as I… appreciate your concern, we've developed this technology ourselves, we are well aware of its requirements and limitations."

Damn, if there was an example for 'patronizing' it would have been the young, blonde haired bastard's tone.

"Dr. Holdren", Porter said, voice stern, "I don't mean to overstep, but I believe that was a little much. They're both new to our technology."

"Of course Dr. Porter."

Then I saw a side of the woman I didn't know she had. She was shorter than Holdren by four or five centimeters, and head and shoulders beneath me, even so, the shrink cleared her throat as she planted herself between the two of us, staring daggers into the division leader.

"I understand and appreciate your position and importance, BioScience division leader, however these two are our guests, specifically Father's guests. Not only that, but I believe it would be impossible for you to appreciate what they've been through to get here, or what the revelations once they did were like for them. That being said, I believe they deserve at least enough respect to speak with them as people, wouldn't you agree? Division leader?"

The way she invoked his title at the end sounded more like a stab than anything else. Regardless of whether this was her putting on airs to gain our trust or not, my opinion of the slight and, now I realize, fierce woman raised by an order of magnitude.

"Dr. Porter, I understand your duties as their escort-"

"I am here to help them", she snapped.

There's definitely something between these two.

"Yes, right, my mistake."

As amusing as it was to watch Porter go after Holdren, I don't think this would go anywhere productive. A glance at Nate told me he thought so too.

"Enough", I said before either could continue. Both scientists looked up at me in unison. "We're good here."

Porter nodded after a short pause, and turned back to Holdren. "Then we will take our leave."

Without waiting for a response, Porter began toward the main hub. I couldn't help the smile that drifted across my face as the rest of us followed.

Another hour later, after a short debrief with Shaun about what we thought, we found ourselves back in the well furnished, all too clean apartment.

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around the level of technology they have here", Nate said as he flopped down on the sofa. "I wouldn't have dreamed of some of the things they're making. Dr. Li and the advanced systems division, with everything they're developing for the Courser and Synth programs, the fusion reactor, weapons, surveillance… it's crazy. Then… well other than Holdren, the BioScience division is unbelievable. They've somehow managed to keep advancing even though the world ended 200 years ago."

I couldn't disagree; the work they've done is remarkable under the circumstances. And that's what bothers me. The Institute is a complete enigma for the people in the Commonwealth, something mysterious and terrifying. That's understandable considering how they operate, but the question remains: why? With the infrastructure and technology they have… why wouldn't they support places like Diamond City? I'm not an expert in economics, but even I know expanding your operations gives you access to more resources, which in turn allows for more development. I had at least part of the answer: they consider the people stuck in the hellscape above ground 'inferior'. As repulsive as that was, it couldn't have been the entire reason. People use that as an excuse to attack people, not avoid them.

"What did Dr. Li want?" Nate asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"To talk."

"She wants to talk to you?" The smaller man frowned. "What does she want dead?"

I shook my head.

He fell silent for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. "Well, she seems alright, better than Ayo, Filmore, or Holdren… which isn't saying much." The ex-soldier yawned, stretching out on the sofa. "Damn it's been a long day. Shut eye sounds great right about now."

That I also couldn't disagree with.

The ex-soldier stood and wandered into the bedroom while I sat against the living room wall, opposite the front door. As I drifted into my approximation of sleep, curiosity swirled through my mind. What the hell does Li want, and why come to a stranger for it?

Notes:

SCENE! Not much to say here, I think this chapter is pretty straightforward, but we do have a bit of building intrigue with Dr. Li. Damon's... attempts at being diplomatic are laughable at best but hey, at least he's trying right? Hope you all enjoyed and I will see you next time!

Chapter 27: More Questions Than Answers

Notes:

Greetings! And we're back with more... uh... story! On this episode of strange lands which make no sense, we're jumping around a bit in Fallout's story! I always thought the ideas brought up in this chapter were glossed over way too readily in the game. So I fixed that. Anyways, I have a short announcement at the end of the chapter (doesn't have anything to do with the story), but if you care, stay tuned for that. Anyway, leave a review to let me know what you think, and as always, enjoy!

I followed Dr. Li through pristine, white washed hallways toward her office set near the back of the Advanced Systems division. She hadn't said anything since I agreed to come along. The older, black haired woman controlled herself well, but her back was slightly too stiff, and the cadence of her stride quicker than it had been yesterday. She hid it better than most, which made me wonder, was that because she was a division leader here, or is there something I don't know about the woman?

Whatever the case, this is still a good opportunity to gather more information.

It's been 15 minutes since we left the apartment; Nate would probably be eating with Porter by this point.

"Go", he said when I told him Li wanted to talk with me in private. "Maybe you can figure something out. The ex-soldier grunted when I hesitated "I'm not you, but I took care of myself for a long time. Don't start babying me, that would piss me off more than anything." He looked at the door, a small smile on his face. "Maybe I'll take Porter up on her offer for a talk. Get some breakfast with her. She's…. nice."

The smaller man stared at the door for another beat before looking back at me. I shrugged; if he wanted to talk with the shrink, that was his prerogative. My only concern is if they're planning something, but the more I thought about the possibility, the less it made sense.

"Don't get into trouble and I won't."

He scoffed. "You're telling me to stay out of trouble? Sure, right, I'll take that advice from you."

"I don't need your help to get out of it."

"No, you'll just kill whatever the trouble is, right?"

I nodded.

Footsteps in the hall caught my attention as the ex-soldier sighed.

"Sometimes…" he said.

It was only… one set of them. Odd.

The stride stopped in front of the door and there was a soft knock. When it slid open, Dr. Li was standing in the hall.

Alone.

"Good morning Nate, Damon."

"Good morning Dr. Li", Nate said.

I nodded. "Ma'am."

"Have you decided?" the division leader said.

Nate didn't wait for me to respond. "He'll go."

Why was he so eager to be alone with- oh.

"She has a kid."

The implication took a few seconds to settle in, but once it did, the smaller man's face turned bright red, but I don't think it was embarrassment.

"Damon", he said, slow and controlled, "if you weren't wearing that armor, I'd be punching you in the face. You think I'm interested in that now?"

I don't know, I don't know anything about personal relationships.

"I wasn't trying to upset you."

"You usually aren't, but you're pretty goddamn good at it."

Turnabout's fair play.

I turned back to Dr. Li whose expression hadn't budged from its firmly set grim determination. "Before I agree, what assurance do I have this isn't a trap?"

"I'm here alone, other than that I have none I can give." The doctor stared up at me, not a hint of uncertainty or fear in her dark, piercing eyes. Her expression was dead serious and determined. There was no self assured smirk, or bored gaze; whatever her confidence came from, it wasn't the same arrogance many of the other scientists here had.

"Alright."

Inside the division leader's office, which was largely bare except for a desk, and two extra chairs, and a small work station, she seemed to relax ever so slightly. Whatever had her on edge, it wasn't me.

She slid the door shut behind me and walked around her desk. "Thank you, I know you must be suspicious, so I do appreciate you at least hearing me out. There have been a few inconsistencies lately and I need help sorting them out. Specifically a former colleague and friend of mine, Dr. Brian Virgil. I don't know what happened to him, but the story I got from Father didn't sit right."

Virgil? "What story?"

"The security system in his lab is active. I was told it malfunctioned and killed Brian. I wanted to be a part of the investigation, but I was turned down. The more I asked Father about it, the more he avoided the topic. We don't always see eye to eye, but he's always been fair to me. Something is going on here."

Li's story struck me odd: she's an outsider, from the sounds of it one of two accepted from the outside world. Shaun was under extraordinary circumstances, so the same probably holds true for Li. On top of that, she's the leader of their main research division. The doctor didn't carry herself the same way as everyone else here either. Most of the other Institute members I've interacted with have been nervous, or aggressive, but Li is neither, she's quiet and guarded. It's like she's used to a completely different life.

"What are you?"

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "What are you asking?"

"You're an outsider here. What did you do before this?"

"That is correct. Do you expect me to part with private information just because you asked?"

I nodded. "You came to me for help. You need someone outside the Institute, someone who is good at fighting. You don't have many options."

"You're an observant one", the older woman said. "Not that it should surprise me." She grunted. "Yes, I'm an outsider from the Brotherhood of Steel, before it came under its current leadership. I worked on what they call 'Project Purity', to provide safe, clean, potable water to the Capital Wasteland."

Potable water for an entire region? "Did it work?"

"Yes." There was more than a little pride in her voice. "It took- there were a lot of sacrifices made to finish it, but it worked. Afterward… things got complicated and I decided to take my leave. This is the only place I felt safe enough from the Brotherhood to stay. If what you say about this young boy is true, it means I at least have some reason to trust you."

Enemy of my enemy… That doesn't make me a friend.

The current situation might complicate things for her, but between her apparent distrust of the Institute, and the Brotherhood's presence, that led me to another question.

"Is that still the case?"

Dr. Li blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You came to me because you don't trust the Institute, or at least Shaun. The Brotherhood is here and there's a risk they destroy the Institute-"

"You're insinuating my loyalty to the Institute is flagging?" she interrupted, but the question wasn't really an accusation. That told me all I needed to know. The division leader held my gaze for a few moments before shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, I can't take the risk of being found by the Brotherhood. I'm sure they know I'm here, but there's a world of difference between that and them getting to me."

That's understandable given what I know about Maxson. They wouldn't kill her, but they'd squeeze every drop of information about the Institute and their operations.

There were a few other things I was curious about, like why she was going along with the Institute's current direction given her past with Project Purity, and its intent. One thing at a time though; I need to figure out what she wants from me.

"You don't trust either which is why I'm here, so what are you asking?"

She gave a curt nod. "I'd like you to break into Dr. Virgil's lab and find out what really happened."

I could tell her Virgil is alive, in the Glowing Sea. The Institute, at least some of its leadership which no doubt included Shaun, already knew that. I still need to get whatever serum he has there too. There was nothing forcing me to do it, but leaving the doctor out to dry didn't sit right. What would telling her get me? Trust? That may be useful later. Would there be any risks? Not that I can think of, they know we probably worked with him, and we worked with the Railroad, confirming either wouldn't endanger Nate or I.

"He's alive, hiding in the Glowing Sea. Kellogg was tasked with hunting down Virgil when I killed him."

The doctor didn't reply, but the expression that slowly drifted onto her face wasn't surprise, it was anger. She sat behind her desk, clenching and unclenching her hands.

"Bastards", Li said eventually, "They were keeping me out of the loop because they knew I would contest that course of action." She looked up at me. "Did he tell you why he left?" I shook my head. "I can guess. He was in charge of a program studying the Forced Evolutionary Virus. They- made a habit of conducting experiments on people from the Commonwealth. He had always contested the practice, but he could never make any headway. Brian must have had enough."

"I still need to get into his lab. He took a modified version of the virus to survive. It's killing him."

She nodded, standing. "I'll show you where it is."

"No", I said, plan throwing itself together, "if they're trying to keep things under wraps, breaking in will be a signal flare." If Li wasn't trying something here, she's someone I might be able to rely on. While there's a thin margin, I do have some. I get caught, people are angry, but I still have Li as an ally. "I need you to keep clean."

The division leader's gaze turned appraising. "You want my help later."

"Possibly", I nodded. I'm operating on almost no information and Shaun has already proven untrustworthy, even with one of his highest ranking members. Having someone in Li's position sympathetic could be invaluable.

"Alright, yes, that's- that's good." She sat back down. "I wasn't thinking. Security. I'm unfamiliar with the exact design of his lab's security system, it's in the BioScience wing, but most have deployable ceiling mounted turrets and Tesla traps. They'll be wired to optical sensors and, unfortunately, they did not wire it so the labs were on separate circuits. This project was… more sensitive than many others, so there may be additional security measures in place. I do not know what, and the only people who would are the ones who Shaun decided to bring into the investigation."

"Do you know if they sent anyone in to scout?"

She shook her head.

Those security measures sound a lot like what Kellogg used in Hagen.

"Where's the lab?"

"In the BioScience wing, go through the main hydroponics and adjacent lab,down the hallway at the back, and to the left." The slender woman reached into her desk and produced a small piece of paper. "This is the password to his personal terminal. I don't know if you'll need it for anything, especially since you know what happened to him, but better safe than sorry."

As I took the offered password, alarm bells began ringing in my head. She's trusting me with a lot here. It isn't a one way street, but we only met each other a few days ago.

"Why are you trusting me with this?"

She frowned. "I don't trust you, but it's easier to rely on someone when you know they at least haven't been actively working behind your back."

Li really doesn't trust the rest of the Institute's leadership. I'd have to ask her about that, but for now, I have to take this one thing at a time.

I slipped the piece of paper into a pouch. "I don't take being betrayed well."

"Damon", she said with a hint of dry sarcasm, "I don't need to make the list of people who want my head any longer."

"Fair enough." I know that feeling.

Before I could turn to leave her office, Li held up a hand. "We'll need another reason for meeting. It will already be suspicious enough if you break into Brian's lab after talking to me, I can't come out of this conversation with nothing."

I cocked my head at her. Was that a bad attempt at getting information out of me? "You're the scientist, I'm sure there are questions anyone in your position would ask someone like me."

After a few moments of silence, each of us holding the other's gaze, the doctor nodded. "I understand. Hopefully we can come to trust one another." Something in her voice said that wasn't an empty platitude. A weariness. That was familiar, being around people who wanted everything they could get out of you, but never feeling like you could rely on them in return.

Going straight to Virgil's lab would send up major red flags for Li. The serum he had been working on could provide a pretty good cover story. They'd ask where I got the passcode from and, while I'm generally a horrible liar, lying by omission is my bread and butter. Tonight would be a good enough opportunity to break in; it would be better to wait longer, Virgil was already running out of time when we met him, and this conversation has planted suspicions about Shaun's motives.

Instead, I headed back to the room to find Nate. Whatever the Institute leader has planned, the ex-soldier's a part of it. He's trying to recruit me as well but, whether there's genuine desire to reconnect with his father or not, Shaun is far more focused on him than me.

What is he planning though?

When I got back, Nate was still gone. I checked in Porter's room, but they weren't there either. Porter had brought all of our meals to the room thus far, but they may have decided to go elsewhere to eat. I could wait for them to get back, the question was should I? The ex-soldier is far better versed in social interactions than me, he has to have picked up on the same cues I have. He hasn't heard Li's story, but what he does know should be more than enough for him to be suspicious.

Right?

Before I realized, my legs were carrying me back through the sterile, almost painfully white halls toward the Institute's main hub. Nate was right when he said he's capable of taking care of himself, but the more I thought about the situation, the more uneasy I became.

Along the way, I came across a Synth guard patrolling the halls. That's something else that struck me odd. Maybe it was for security with the ex-soldier and I around, but this place is supposed to be secure, and they have Coursers around the facility. Why would they have guards in full armor, carrying rifles for security?

"Where's the mess?" I demanded as I planted myself in front of the guard, blocking its path.

"Excuse me sir", it replied, craning its neck to look up at me. The thing's voice sounded like it had been distorted through a broken speaker. "Can I help you with something?"

"Mess hall."

"I apologize sir, I am unsure what you are referring to."

It doesn't-

"Cafeteria."

"Yes sir", the guard turned and pointed back down the hall, "it is on the opposite side of the main commons, second level."

I stepped around the Synth and continued toward the hub. Logically, I knew they wouldn't do anything, at least not yet. Hell I don't even know what they would do if they wanted. As far as I can tell, they just want to win us over to their side, but something still had me uncomfortable. It felt like there was an ulterior motive.

As I neared the hub, I began running across technicians and scientists in the white washed walls. I paid them little mind as they hurried to get out of my way.

But what would it be?

A few minutes later, I emerged in the main hub, it's relative scale to the rest of the underground structure, still impressive. I felt the collective gaze of the dozen people around the entrance fall on me for a moment before they too rushed away.

Climbing to the second floor, I found Nate and Porter sitting at a table in the large eating area.

"Damon?" Nate asked. I must have been projecting my unease because both of them stood as I stalked toward the table.

I stopped, looking at each in turn as I stood over them. What did I want? What was I going to do? I can't tell Nate anything; we were almost certainly under constant surveillance, to mention nothing of Porter.

"Did Dr. Li tell you something?" the ex-soldier continued, probably to keep the awkward silence from dragging on.

Shit. What am I supposed to say?

Lie.

I'm a horrible liar.

Lie by omission.

"It wasn't anything new."

"What does that mean?"

Uh…

"It isn't anything you haven't heard before?"

The smaller man cocked an eyebrow. "Is that why it feels like you're ready to tear someone in half?"

"Isn't that normal?"

Once my brain caught up with my mouth, I realized how dumb that sounded. How stupid this entire situation was. What the hell am I doing?

"Yes…" Nate glanced at Porter who was watching me with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Well, anyway, we were just about done."

The shrink nodded to him, casting one more glance at me before walking away.

When she was out of earshot, the smaller man cast an irritated glare my way. "You suck at lying, what happened?"

I looked around, but a remote listening device, laser mike, or just some extremely sensitive equipment would be able to pick up our conversation. "This place feels… wrong. I don't trust this, the way-"

"Yes." My companion's expression went from annoyed to bemused. "Aside from you being suspicious about everything, I get that too, but what are we going to do? What are they going to do to us? The best thing we can do right now is see where this goes. Shaun's here and you need their help."

He was right, at least about the last part, but gathering information is always important in unfamiliar situations.

"By the way Damon", he continued, "your timing really sucks." When I cocked my head at him, the ex-soldier's eyes narrowed. "Interrupting a good conversation constitutes 'bad timing'. And I'd really appreciate it if you stopped with that joke."

X

'Night' didn't mean much underground where light was artificial. It also didn't mean much when there were still oddly well armed guards patrolling the pristine hallways, common areas, and labs. There was the occasional lab coat or technician ambling through the halls, but for the most part it was me and whatever Synth guard I came across. Not trying to slip past the patrols, or eliminate the ones that did see me felt wrong. I didn't for two reasons. First, that would have been a great way to land firmly on the wrong side of yet another major player in the area. Second, they're going to know what I'm up to the moment something pops off in Virgil's lab.

The BioScience wing was empty when I arrived, with nothing but the massive array of vegetables to greet me. It was still incredible, and a little eerie, to see the organized, almost antiseptic feeling rows of plants growing underground. The enormous room was one of the primary sources of food for the Institute. It was both impressive and vulnerable.

That isn't what I'm here for though. I followed the path Dr. Li described, heading through the large main room filled with rows of hydroponics, into an adjoining lab and down another hall. After some searching, I found the door labeled 'FEV Lab'. I was probably on the clock from the moment I entered the BioScience wing, but when I open the door, that will kick things off for sure.

I readied the laser rifle before tapping the control panel on the wall. The door slid open revealing a small security checkpoint with what looked like a decontamination passage. Sure enough, the checkpoint's large window had been blown outward, coating the steel floor with shards of safety glass.

A quick check confirmed the immediate room was clear, so I walked through the security checkpoint and found myself in a short hall. It had several doors on either side and ended in a large room filled with large shelves. I didn't see any turrets or traps, experience (sometimes painful) has taught me to never take that for granted. As I stalked down the hall, my rifle was up, swinging from one side of the hall to the other.

Nothing.

The only things out of the ordinary were the almost non-existent light and the lack of people, but-

As I stepped past the threshold into the large storage room, a quiet whirring started from somewhere further in. That caught my attention. Was that some piece of still active machinery, or a security response. I'd put-

A thud, followed by pounding footsteps answered that question.

Something shot across the gap between two shelves in front of me and I put a bright red lance into center mass. That did nothing to slow it down. Whatever it was lunged toward me and with shelves crowding both sides, the only thing I could do was meet its charge.

As it neared, I let go of my rifle and dropped into a low crouch-

Kleo?

The assaultron slammed into me. In hand to hand combat it's almost always a bad idea to fight against an opponent's momentum, even if you can stop it. The better solution is to use it against them. So as the robot grabbed for me with its three pronged pincers, I grabbed its left forearm and turned, using my hip as a pivot to throw it over me and into a row of shelves. The thing crashed through them with a loud thud and an ear piercing screech. Piles of whatever had been on the racks crashed down on top of it.

My next rule for CQC is to never give the other person (or robot) time to recover.

I pounced on the android as it tried to gather itself in the mess. Sidestepping a wild swing with one of its pincers, I grabbed the robot's arm and twisted. An awful groan came from its elbow before I felt a faint snap, but the Assaultron didn't seem to mind. The metal bastard swung for me with the other arm. At the same instant, the red eye in the center of its face began glowing painfully bright and I leapt away just in time to avoid what looked like an incredibly powerful laser blast. Molten metal and plaster sprayed from the gaping wound in the ceiling.

So that's what Kleo meant when she said she'd incinerate us.

That probably wouldn't have gotten through my armor, but I'd rather not test it.

The Assaultron was up and charging again before I had a chance to close again and this time it's laser was already hot. If I keep dodging I'm going to run out of time.

So as it ripped off another blinding beam, I stepped in and ducked under the massive jet of light. Before the thing could adjust its aim, I launched an uppercut at the bottom side of it's angular head. The blow lifted the Assaultron off its feet and sent it crashing into another shelf that collapsed under the impact.

Sparks were flying from my opponent, as it sprawled across the mangle rack. Good, that-

Red light speared out of the thing's head once again, and this time I wasn't able to avoid it completely. The edge of the beam caught my right shoulder and my shields flared hard. The searing energy had only been on me for a split second, but it was enough to drain the barrier by half and wisps of smoke were rising from the surface of my armor. That beam would have no problem reducing a normal person to ash.

As it was, the force of the blast sent me spinning off, collapsing another shelf under the impact.

Stupid. I'm getting sloppy, lazy. Anything can kill me if I give it the chance.

I surged back to my feet and locked in on the Assaultron. The combat drone was struggling, unsteadily, to stand. Had the blow damaged it?

No point in taking another chance. I closed on it once again, wary of any more blasts. It tried to take another swing at me, but I got low and drove my shoulder into its chest. We crashed through another rack and into the steel wall with a crunch.

Pain shot through my shoulder as the Assaultron slammed it's still fully functional arm down on the soft armor behind my left pauldron. I knocked the limb aside and grabbed for the thing's armored head. I don't know how to kill this bastard, but there's one significant threat, and I'm going to remove that before worrying about anything.

My left hand clamped onto the plates on its head and my right down onto the thing's chassis.

Then I pulled.

A shrill screech came from the thing's neck and I felt whatever held it in place give a centimeter. The metal bastard swung again and the blow connected with the right side of my helmet. The impact was hard enough to send a piercing ringing through my ears, but I clenched my jaw and doubled down on my efforts.

After a few more seconds, and another flailing metal arm to the head, something in the drone's neck gave with a sharp snap. It's head jerked upward, followed by tearing, before my left hand came away with my prize. I released my prey's torso and it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

The full red glow in its 'eye' slowly faded until the thing was as lifeless as the rest of this lab. That was-

Another gentle whirring came from the Assaultron's body.

What the hell?

The sound was growing louder. I didn't know what it was, but I had no desire to find out. I turned and sprinted for the storage room's exit.

I only made it three strides when a blast of heat and pressure slammed into my back. It sent me crashing through shelves until I slammed into the far wall. It probably sounded awful, but I didn't know, I couldn't hear anything besides an intense ring.

It was several seconds before my scrambled head could produce a coherent thought, but the first thing that came out was: what the hell was that?

The only thing I could think of was a self destruct. I almost laughed in my daze. An enclosed space like this, an explosion like that… even with armor, that probably would have turned most people into jelly. Whoever decided to give those things a self destruct didn't care about potential collateral damage, apparently.

My ears were ringing, my head was spinning, and my left side ached. Somewhere in the back of my slowly recovering mind, I thought something about screwing up twice in one fight, but there's a reason the UNSC doesn't have any automated self destruct systems.

Keep moving.

Right.

Painfully, I climbed out of the wreckage of the several shelves around me and back to my feet.

It was only then I realized I still had the Assaultron's head clutches in my left hand.

Annoying mfer.

I threw it back at where the now incinerated body had been and continued into the lab. Maybe I was still dazed or maybe the blast gave me a mild concussion, my diagnostics didn't say anything, but the rest of the journey felt like it took about five seconds. The dark halls and rooms blended together into a blur. There were other security measures, ceiling mounted turrets, a trap of some sort, but I barely noticed as I dispatched them.

Whatever I just did, suddenly I was standing in what actually looked like a lab, with several workstations, equipment, and plenty of discarded paper and tools everywhere. The room was large, larger than most other labs I've seen. It was large enough for a half dozen scientists and technicians, there's no way Virgil was the only one working in here.

I turned as I studied the room until my eyes fell on a large floor to ceiling tube with-

It's been a long time since I've felt genuine revulsion, but suddenly I was filled to the brim with it.

Off on the opposite side of the lab was a large tube with two Supermutants suspended inside. I don't know what I was disgusted by more, the yellow-green skinned abominations, or the fact that they made them here. Out of regular people.

As I stared at the floating creatures, a terrible thought occurred: did the Institute make the ones that attacked the kids?

During the status meeting, Shaun had said science for the sake of science is always a good thing. Well I'm staring at an example of when that isn't the case. What did they hope to learn from making these freaks?

It took a moment to tear my eyes away from the display; I wouldn't learn anything from staring at it, and I might if I can find Virgil's computer.

One of the ancient looking computers was sitting on a large desk set against the wall opposite of the entrance I'd used. Beside it were several pieces of equipment. Only one was active, a small device coupled to a stainless steel canister. It was slowly rotating, probably to mix whatever the contents of the container were. If I had to bet, that's probably the serum Virgil was talking about.

Maybe he has records for it on his work station.

I slipped the small piece of paper from its pouch as I stepped in front of the computer. Green text scrolled across the screen as I tapped at the keyboard and, after what seemed like an eternity, the machine finally booted to the login screen. I've never seen a piece of equipment this antiquated in such a high tech lab; how the hell do these people still have this when they can make artificial humans?

Pushing the speculation out of my still hazy mind, I typed in the password and was greeted with a menu screen. Most of the options were programs for running and recording tests, data logs, and reports. Given time, or an intel team, I could decipher them, but I wasn't exactly interested in the results of experiments on people to turn them into Supermutants. A little ironic considering ONI did something similar to me, but that's something to unpack another time.

The last option was for personal notes. I scanned the titles as the entries loaded; each was coded with only a date, ordered reverse chronologically. There were at least three dozen of them. Shit… I doubt I have time to read all of it.

I opened the last entry. It was short: "I have made my final pleas and, yet again, they have fallen on deaf ears. If we are more concerned with advancement than the people we are supposedly doing this research for, I have made my decision."

That was to be expected. I went to the next. This one was longer, it looked like Virgil writing out thoughts on his role in this research. The gist was 'I'm a monster for doing this to these people'. Not exactly flattering. Third was the doctor speculating about how the Institute was procuring his 'test material'. His conclusion was they were snatching people from settlements around the Commonwealth. There had been rumors spreading around the population of the Institute kidnapping citizens, sometimes replacing them with Synths, sometimes not bothering to cover it at all. Virgil didn't seem to know if that was true, but it made sense to him. Does to me too.

Clicking through the various entries, my opinions of the Institute didn't improve. The FEV research they were doing sounded like the most egregious, but between this and Shaun, it seemed like they only valued human life in so far as it was useful for their experiments. Virgil spent most of them lamenting his repeated attempts to close down the experiments or at least stop using people from the wasteland. He made several allusions to one test in particular, but wouldn't go into detail.

As much as I wanted to condemn the Institute's approach, it wasn't far removed from mine, or at least what I've been used for. To me, the value of a human life has always been whether the person was an asset or obstacle. Assets were to be used, obstacles were to be removed.

At least until recently.

I couldn't condemn them when I've spent the better part of a decade using similar methods. What I can do is be disgusted by the apathetic approach of an organization that is supposedly developing technology for the betterment of mankind.

Then I found the entry he'd been referring to. One that did hit me

"I do not know what to do with this. This time the Coursers brought in a family, all sedated, and 'ready for processing'. I immediately confronted Holdren and Ayo about this, but neither would hear my protests. I took it to Father, and he told me their sacrifice would serve for the advancement of mankind. He also, not so subtly, insinuated I would be replaced if I could not do it. Their sacrifice!? This is not a sacrifice! This was never their decision! We took that from them! Oh god, what am I going to do? What am I going to do? If I do nothing, someone else will take this project over, and there will be no one attempting to solve this situation. But these people, this family, what am I supposed to do? They do not see these people as people. They are just test subjects. Every time I see the face of one of these innocent people twist and warp into those freaks… every one of them haunts my dreams. I do not know if there is a god, but if there is, I am going to the deepest level of hell. My only comfort is they will be joining me."

My mind took a moment to process what I'd just read. The Institute doesn't view these people as people, only as test subjects. That sounded a lot like ONI. Like what Dr. Halsey did to the SPARTAN IIs. That's what has been unsettling about this place. They remind me, almost to a T, of ONI. Clandestine operations, zero accountability, and, relative to the world around them, almost unlimited resources.

Wait a minute. A pit settled in my stomach. No. The Institute isn't the same as ONI. Much of what ONI did, and what I did for them, was reprehensible, but it was pragmatic. ONI did what it did because they were in a war of genocide, and after that war was over, they were trying to maintain an extremely fragile power structure. They did what they did, they sent me to Insurrectionist bases and Remnant outposts, because they were trying to preserve what little humanity was left. For as many people as I've killed, I've never done it because I thought they were lesser than me.

"If we allow an exception here, are we going to begin allowing everyone from the surface in to contaminate our home?" Those words rang in my head. These motherfuckers- they justify what they do because they think the people in the Commonwealth aren't worth considering people.

Images of Cassandra, Thomas, Julian, Alexandra, Ellie, Preston, Sturges, the Finches… everyone I've met here, the people I've somehow come to care about flashed through my mind. These people would turn them all into lab experiments without a second thought, just because they were born in the hellscape above instead of down here in their comfy underground paradise.

I backed away from the desk, fury almost boiling. The thought of Cassandra floating in the tube behind me, mutated and warped into one of the bastards who had massacred and eaten Thomas and Julian's parents… I could have stood there stewing in my anger- no anger isn't the right word. What I was feeling wasn't as simple as anger. This was wrath. And I needed to do something about it.

But before I could move my legs rooted themselves in place with a desperate ruthlessness.

Stop. Calm down. I can't do this here, I can't do this now?

And why not?!

Two reasons: I'm operating on incomplete information, and doing something stupid won't help anything.

Incomplete information? What else do I need to know?

I don't know, and that's the problem. Relax and take a breath. This kind of rashness is why Julian was captured.

That hit me in the gut, and it was true. Goddammit.

There was nothing else to learn here though. Clearly, all reading more entries would do is make things worse. I stepped back to the desk and ejected the small stainless steel canister from its housing.

As much as I tried along the short walk back through the lab, I couldn't completely bury the fury that had planted itself deep in my head. It had taken root so thoroughly, I wasn't sure if I wanted their help getting back to the UNSC. The question now is how I'll deal with the upcoming confrontation. And how they'll react to me breaking into Virgil's lab. Whatever happens, I need to keep Dr. Li above suspicion. I still have little reason to trust her, but anything is preferable to the rest of the Institute's leadership, especially considering what I've learned.

The large storage room was a disaster. I must not have noticed, or appreciated, how much damage the Assaultron detonating did on my way out. Most of the shelves were destroyed, what was left of their contents scattered in a rough circle around the crater where the thing's body had been. Most of the ceiling was gone too, while the steel walls were warped and riddled with dents from debris impacts. Packing a CQC unit with that kind of self-destruct function… what were these people thinking?

I was still aching.

When I exited the lab back into the BioScience wing, I didn't bother trying to be subtle. They knew I was there, I wasn't going to skulk my way into whatever security force they had waiting for me.

Sure enough, as soon as I emerged back into the wing's cavernous main room, I was greeted by a dozen Coursers and at least as many guards. They were arrayed around the circular room, each with a weapon trained on me. I had to remind myself to keep my hands away from my rifle as my ire peaked again and I felt them tense.

Contrary to the will of every muscle in my body, which were tensed to the point of snapping, I stopped just inside the door. In the open. Exposed. In front of enough firepower to incinerate me, in the hands of people who would probably prefer to turn me into a test subject.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice, Dr. Ayo's, shouted from behind the wall of Synths.

"I'm only talking to Shaun."

"You aren't in a position to make demands." The half sized bastard sounded smug. Funny, considering he was too chickenshit to say that to my face. This guy is almost certainly the one who arranged the kidnappings to procure Virgil's test subjects. I hadn't liked the guy from the start, but now it was open disdain.

"I don't answer stupid questions; you know what I did."

"If you are unwilling to cooperate I will have to detain you."

Detain me? My hands balled into fists. The last thing-

That might be the best option.

What?

They knew I'm the one who broke into Virgil's lab. Shaun isn't here to confront me himself, which means I doubt I'd be able to make him come down here.

Honestly, I'd rather sit in a cell and wait for Shaun to come find me himself than try to get this blowhard to take me to the Institute leader.

"Go ahead."

The division leader hesitated. "You will not resist?" There was more than a little surprise in his voice.

"No."

More hesitation. "Lay your weapons on the floor and step forward."

With my instincts still screaming at me, I complied and a few minutes later I was walking back through the main hub, surrounded by my two dozen escorts, toward the Synth Retention Division. The enormous chamber was completely devoid of other Institute members. I didn't know if that was because it was still the middle of the night, or they had cleared the place out once they realized what was happening.

They led me to a holding cell that looked like it was about as accommodating as the cells I'd seen on Libertalia. It was small enough I could touch each side at the same time. Still preferable to listening to this compensating jackass bloviate, especially considering what I know about him now. I barely wanted to talk to Shaun, and I'm not 100% sure about that either. How would Nate react? How would he feel about learning his son has been authorizing the kidnapping of innocent civilians to turn them into lab experiments?

I sat against the bare steel wall, opposite the door, and waited, still fuming despite my best efforts. Maybe Maxson's reasons were fanatical, but the idea the Institute is dangerous was well founded. Synths aren't the problem though; like most things, it's people.

To top everything off, I've never been a prisoner before. Considering the people (and aliens) I was fighting, they'd sooner kill me than capture me. So sitting here, under the control of someone else, someone I have a serious issue with irritated me in a new way. More than anything, I wanted to tear the cell door from its hinges and get out, consequences be damned.

But I made my decision, and doing something like that now would be stupid and counterproductive. I may not be able to completely control my emotions, but I'll be damned if they keep controlling my actions. With that in mind, there was nothing to do but sit and wait.

So I rested my head back against the steel wall behind me and waited.

X

The cacophony of boots on metal caught my attention and I snapped to full alert. Had I been asleep?

My mission clock read 0530. I don't remember the time when they'd put me in the small cell, but it couldn't have been past 0200.

Climbing to my feet, I stood in the center of the cramped, steel box while the marching approached. As it did, an odd exhilaration began building in my chest. So much of my time in the past has been spent planning, scouting, and planning again and while most plans don't make it past the first shot, you have contingencies planned for those. I like to think improvisation is one of my strengths, but it's always had structure.

This isn't that. I made a decision on the spot with no clue what the outcome might be. More than that, I'm doing something completely new. Gathering intel isn't alien to me, but doing so with the intent of being caught was. More than that, my fallback isn't 'shoot my way out', it's talking. Maybe Nate has been rubbing off on me, and while this was exciting, I can't make spontaneity my MO, especially with these people.

There was a loud clang as the steel door was unlatched and it swung open to reveal X6-88 along with X2-17 and several more Coursers.

"Please exit", the dark skinned Synth said in his customary, monotonous voice. I did and found myself in a hallway crowded with Coursers and guards. "Follow me."

X6-88 led me back out of the wing and to the large conference room where the division leaders, along with Nate, Shaun, and what seemed like half of their guard contingent were waiting. The Institute leaders were all sitting around the oversized, white conference table. Holdren and Ayo looked outright pissed, both glaring at me as if their eyes alone could kill. The feeling was mutual. Filmore only wore a disappointed frown, while Dr. Li's face was carefully neutral.

Shaun was the one I was interested in. He was impassive as ever, but his stare followed me with an intensity I hadn't seen from him before. Nate, on the other hand, looked irritated.

"You were not permitted to enter that facility", the Institute leader said as I stopped at the end of the table. "Care to explain why you broke into it, destroyed the security system, as well as the entire store room?"

My ire flared as he spoke. It wasn't just the question, it was the accusation in his voice, like what they were doing there wasn't the problem, that I know about it is.

Deep breath, start with the first thing first.

Telling them I took the serum Virgil asked for wouldn't do this situation any favors. Maybe I wasn't here to start a physical fight, but I'll be damned if I'm the one treated like the monster here.

Fair enough.

"You experiment on civilians."

The gray haired man frowned. "You did not break into the FEV lab to determine how we run our experiments."

"Doesn't matter." I shrugged with a calm I certainly wasn't feeling. Despite my decision, almost every part of me wanted to turn this into a physical disagreement. "It's what you do. Dr. Brian Virgil documented his requests to shut down the program."

"The FEV lab?" Nate said, face shifting from irritation to concern as he looked at his son. "You were experimenting with Supermutants?"

"Yes." Shaun nodded. "It's been-"

"Why?" the ex-soldier interrupted, voice low.

"Because we need to. The Forced Evolutionary Virus is an extremely complex and dangerous entity. Our best chance at controlling its mutations is understanding how it interacts with as many organisms as possible."

"That virus makes Supermutants." My companion couldn't keep the disgust out of his voice.

"And many other things as well." Shaun nodded to Holdren. The blonde haired division leader's glare hadn't left me, but he tore his eyes away to give a dubious glance at the older man.

"Father?"

"Please explain, it would be better if they understood what we are dealing with."

This should be interesting. What bullshit are they going to come up with for this one?

"Yes Father." As the BioScience leader cleared his throat the idea Shaun had them call him 'Father' struck me as odd once again. It seemed narcissistic.

"The Forced Evolutionary Virus is one of the Institute's primary concerns. It is volatile, 100% effective, and currently uncontrolled. It is responsible for many of the odd mutations you see throughout the Commonwealth. Over 200 years of constant exposure and iterations, it has evolved into something completely different from whatever the original intent was. We don't fully understand it, but as you have most likely seen, one of its products, Supermutants, is incredibly dangerous. We do not know enough about it to predict what it will do, so we must study it."

As Holdren finished his speech, I hated to admit, there was a brutal sort of logic I could appreciate.

But that explanation didn't excuse a goddamn thing.

My glare was fixed on him; I could almost feel my eyes burning with hatred. "You think that justifies conducting these tests on random people?"

The division leader shifted in his chair, but before he could continue, Shaun interjected.

"I understand your skepticism, but as I said, it is necessary to test on as wide a range of subjects as possible."

"Wait-". Nate said, holding a hand up. "Just to make sure I'm understanding this, you've been kidnapping people from the Commonwealth?" His voice had already skipped past the carefully controlled stage and went straight to angry. "I was hoping the rumors I've heard were exaggerated."

"It is a practice we have, regrettably, had to undertake in order to appropriately conduct these experiments. We need real world examples, using Synths would not work because they have not been exposed to the endemic radiation above ground. Generations of accumulated effects, mixed with the many variants of the FEV we have isolated, is what results in the different Supermutant mutations"

'Generations of accumulated effects'… oh shit!

"That's why you captured that family." My hands balled into fists so tightly, my forearms flared in pain. "You motherfuckers wanted to see what would happen to multiple generations of the same family."

The ex-soldier's eyes shot wide. "What do you- are you saying-" he didn't finish the sentence, instead looking between his son and Holdren.

Dr. Li leaned forward in her chair, the armor protecting her expression cracking. Some small voice in the back of my head reminded me I need her where she is. The doctor met my gaze and I shook my head.

The Institute leader met his father's wide eyed stare with a frown, almost like he wasn't sure how to react to him being surprised.

"How did you gain access to Dr Virgil's records?"

"Dr. Virgil."

"And he gave you-"

"I don't see how that's important right now", Nate interrupted again. "You kidnapped a family to experiment on them. I- how can you justify that? After what happened to you?"

A frustrated frown flashed across the Institute leader's face. "Because the FEV is an immense danger, and it's been left to evolve unchecked for over 200 years. Do you think we take pleasure in it? The Institute has done many reprehensible things in the past, things I wish we could undo, but we cannot allow this world to continue destroying us." He lowered his voice. "If that is my burden to bear, I will do so, because it has to be done."

That's rich coming from you. "You say that as if other people aren't the ones who suffer because of your decisions."

Shaun shot to his feet, his anger and frustration finally breaking through the calm, collected countenance he'd been so carefully maintaining. "I will not be lectured about my decisions by the likes of you. I am fully aware of the pain I am causing, I was a victim of these practices. You, however, what have you done to atone for the countless people you have killed? I do not know how many you have over the course of your life, but in the few months we have been following you, it is a great many. I would wager, between the two of us, you are directly responsible for more death and suffering than I have ordered."

My body froze in place, muscles coiled taut, ready to propel myself across the conference room and turn its sterile, white walls, table, and floor a lot less clean.

Who the fuck are you to judge me or my actions? You couldn't imagine the war I was fighting, tucked away in your safe, isolated underground bunker. Maybe I didn't have the best reasons for fighting, but I was fighting to protect humanity.

Isn't that what he's arguing? He's doing what he does to protect humanity?

Nate stood from the table, clearly still upset, but a tinge of worry creasing his face. The ex-soldier placed himself between his son, who was staring daggers at me, and I, holding his hands up.

Yes, but what part of humanity is it he's worried about protecting? They don't think of non-Institute members as human.

And I didn't think about the insurrectionists I killed, I did it because I was ordered to and nothing more.

That isn't-

"I think it may be a good idea to table this for now", Nate said, voice carefully neutral once again.

Shaun nodded curtly, "agreed. Dr. Ayo have Damon-"

"No." The ex-soldier shot a glare at the Synth Retention Division's leader. "You aren't detaining him again."

For more than my own sanity, I agreed. Was Nate in physical danger? I doubt it, but these people decided they would sacrifice an entire family for a damn lab test. I wouldn't put anything past them. That's something they share with ONI.

"Father, I understand your uncertainty, but we cannot take chances with someone we cannot trust."

"Trust?" Nate retorted. "Who the hell am I supposed to trust? I want it to be you, but after what you've done- how can you expect me to?"

"Father", Dr. Li said, eyes fixed on me as she addressed Shaun, "it is possible you are allowing your emotions to intrude on this decision. We all know this man poses a risk, it would be irresponsible to allow him to remain free to do as he pleases because of how dangerous he is. We have to consider he was not only able to defeat a Courser in single combat, but now he has destroyed an Assaultron in hand to hand combat. Not only that, but he has accomplished both with no apparent injuries. We don't know what he is capable of."

The doctor's eyes were almost apologetic, but it was unnecessary. I understood, it was a good play.

I balled my hands into fists and took a step toward the former Brotherhood scientist. In an instant every weapon in the room was leveled at me. Good.

That thought made me smile. One side of me, the instincts that have kept me alive, was screaming at me to take action. The other side, the new, alien side, was pleased they were so thoroughly focused on my physical threat. It meant they would have other blindspots that can be exploited.

"Wait- Damon, stop goddammit. This situation doesn't need to get any worse." Nate's voice was a mix between frustration, panic, and desperation. "Put us under guard. We'll- we'll stay in the room you gave us until we get things sorted out."

Ayo stood from the table. "And we are supposed to take your word that you two will cooperate? No." He turned to Shaun. "I believe the safest option would be to detain them both."

For the first time, Shaun looked at a loss. The idea they'd put us both in a cell wasn't a bad possibility, as much as I hate being at the whims of someone else.

"I don't think that would be necessary", Filmore said, the first time she's spoken since this began. "Detaining them in their current accommodations would be just as effective and, despite Damon's rash and hostile actions, they are still our guests. More than that, Nate is extremely important to Father, which means this isn't a normal situation."

Holdren nodded. "I find myself in agreement. This is already a… regrettable situation, it would be best to not escalate it."

I couldn't help the glare I shot his way. Ironic that would come from you, considering your involvement in this mess.

The Institute leader glanced between the two division leaders, something akin to relief on his face. "Yes- yes I concur. Dr. Li and Dr. Ayo, do you have any objections?"

Li remained silent, but Ayo, of course, was less than pleased. "Am I not responsible for security? If we are to allow these two to stay here, and alive, we must take precautions considering how dangerous they are."

"There is more to be considered here than the security measures we employ", Shaun said, not quite keeping the aggravation out of his voice.

"Yes Father, I understand your personal connection with this situation, but we cannot allow feelings to jeopardize our operations."

Dr. Li cleared her throat. "What additional security would holding them in your facilities provide?"

The short, bald man rounded on her. "Dr. Li, we all know you were interested in discovering what happened to Dr. Virgil. We also know you were in contact with him", Ayo shot a finger at me, "this morning. You have-"

"I do not appreciate the implication you are making." Li's voice was calm, but still managed to carry a warning. "The implication I would willingly risk my trust and position within the Institute, especially now with the Brotherhood of Steel on our doorstep with the expressed intent of destroying us."

"While I agree it is important to understand this situation in its entirety", Filmore said before the SRD leader could retort, "throwing spurious accusations at each other is not the way to do it. We must act on the information we have now and I believe we have decided that course of action is to place these two under guard in their current accommodations." As she spoke, the division leader cast a glance toward Dr. Li. I didn't know what it meant, but it's probably safe to say Ayo isn't the only one suspicious of her.

A tense silence fell over the large conference room, Coursers with their weapons still trained on me. Whatever happens, my goal now is to keep Nate out of harm's way until we can figure out what their intentions are.

Glances were exchanged around the large, white table and, after what seemed like far too long, Ayo finally spoke. "That is acceptable."

As soon as the decision was made, Nate and I were escorted back to the apartment by the massive contingent of Coursers and Synth guards. I guess I should be flattered they were willing to dedicate that magnitude of resources to me.

The smaller man was quiet during the march. I may not be very proficient at reading social cues, but if I had to guess, I'd say he was shell shocked. Reflecting on everything that has happened since last night, this must be jarring for him. Yesterday he was enjoying breakfast and, supposedly, a good conversation with Porter. Now he's a prisoner after having discovered his son (who is double his age) authorized the kidnapping of innocent civilians for reprehensible, inhumane experiments.

It didn't take more than an instant for that frustration to explode once we were alone in the apartment.

The ex-soldier rounded on me as the door slid shut. "What the fuck was that, Damon?! What just happened?"

I cocked my head. He didn't understand what we were talking about?

"The Institute is experimenting on-"

"I got that part, asshole." My companion's voice was a mixture of fury and bewilderment. "What the fuck are you doing breaking into labs?"

Wait- that's your problem here?

"How does that matter?"

Nate's eyes shot wide. "How do- is your default to piss everyone off because you're constantly suspicious? Have you ever thought of trying to be cooperative? When we first met, you tried to kick me to the curb because you didn't trust me. Twice. When we began working with the Brotherhood, you didn't once engage with them in good faith; you were always acting like you wanted to stab them in the back and look what happened. Now we've only been here a few goddamn days and we're already on house arrest."

The stab about the Brotherhood ambush, and them capturing Julian, stung, but his focus on my actions was ridiculous. All I did was find out some of what the Institute was hiding, and by extension learn what kind of outfit this is. My suspicion was correct, so why the hell is this my fault?

That pissed me off.

"You're angry about me finding out the Institute experiments on innocent people?"

"Hell yes I-"

"These people make the things that ate Thomas and Julian's parents. They experimented on a family because they wanted to see how generational mutations in the host affected the virus's response."

"And you couldn't-" The smaller man stopped, eyes going from dinner plates to slits. "This is what Li talked to you about."

Shit. Nate's too attentive; he can pick up on a regular person's lies. What chance do I have?

"I went into the lab to recover the serum Virgil asked for."

He scoffed. "Since when have you been a paragon? You wanted to kill him for being a Supermutant."

"He helped us. And it was an opportunity to gather intel. I did that; why are you focused on my actions, the Institute is the problem here."

"Because the way you do things put us in danger. Again. I'm trying to do everything I can to come to terms with this." He gestured at the steel walls of our temporary prison. "I'm trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get over missing 60 years of my son's life. I'm trying to figure out how to build a relationship with him. Now not only do I have to deal with being a prisoner, I have to deal with know he-" the smaller man's voice caught in his throat. "Motherfucker." He lashed out and slammed a closed fist into my breastplate. I could have stopped him, but the move caught me completely off guard.

As his fist rebounded off of the eight centimeter thick titanium plate, he doubled over and clutched at his right hand. "Shit." I was hard pressed to feel bad for him.

"Now I have to deal with this", he said as he straightened, still holding his hand. Blood was seeping between his fingers. The anger was gone from his weathered, tanned face. The smaller man looked hurt. "My son signed off on those experiments, and I'm being treated like an enemy on top of that."

My friend turned away, stalking over to the small table and dropping into a chair like the muscles in his legs vanished.

"I'm mad at you, but what you found out- I don't know what to do with it."

He doesn't- "You're mad at me?"

The ex-soldier's head whipped around to me, a hint of anger filtering back to the surface. "Yes I'm mad at you. You broke into a sealed lab and now we're public enemy number one. And do you think I wanted to learn my son is leading experiments on innocent people?" He put his head in hands, elbows resting on the table. "Can something- just one thing go right? The Institute really is the boogie man everyone thinks they are, my own 60 year old son is partially responsible for it, and my giant killer robot can't stay out of trouble for more than two days." Nate took a shaky breath and fell silent.

Learning what the Institute is doing upset him?

Why wouldn't it? After everything else he's learned, now he's found out Shaun has condoned experiments even ONI would find questionable (not that they wouldn't still do them).

"This really, really sucks." The ex-soldier looked back up at me. "I can't stop thinking the family they captured could have been the kids', or that some of their experiments were the ones that attacked them. How the hell could they justify that?" He shook his head. "And then I think that family was probably just like theirs: just some innocent people trying to make it by in that hellhole. What am I supposed to do?"

That- was a good question. I hadn't thought about that. My gaze drifted from the smaller man to the door. The door a few dozen armed guard were waiting on the other side of. This is an entirely new situation, one I couldn't, or at least shouldn't use my standard approach of 'fight my way out'. There are still so many things I don't know about this.

"I don't know."

Nate snorted. "You did all this without thinking about what came next?"

"I didn't know what I'd find."

"But you knew it would involve Supermutants, you wanted to find something you would be pissed off about. You knew it might lead to this. How do you do something like that without thinking it through? Without having a next step planned? Without talking to me first? Everything you do reflects on me too." He stood again, anger putting an edge on his voice. "Now we're locked in here, and I don't know if I'll get the chance to rebuild what relationship I can with my son." Blood was still dripping from a cut over his knuckles, but the smaller man didn't seem to care.

"They have us under surveillance."

"You think I haven't figured that out? Hell, we damn near talked about it."

"I-" I'd considered it but- this sort of thing isn't what I do, but it's familiar enough. Even more, I'm not the one trying to come to terms with my life being blown up for the second time in two months. I'm the one who's supposed to be vigilant and ready for a fight. Have I not been giving him enough credit? "I don't know. Everything you're dealing with, I wasn't thinking about it. I'm… sorry."

Nate held my gaze for a few silent seconds before sighing. "Somehow hearing you apologize makes me feel like I shot someone's dog." He stared at the ceiling for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "Okay, you're right, what they do is fucked up, but we need their help if we're going to get Julian back and, well, you know. Plus, I still intend to do the best I can with Shaun at this point. I don't really want to think about what else they might do", he added quietly as he sat back down. "So the question is: what do we do next?"

Notes:

So yeah, I think it's fair to say both Nate and Damon would have a... fairly adverse response to finding out what the Institute was doing, but Nate has a much larger investment in this considering his relationship with Shaun. Poor guy just can't get a break. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed, and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 28: Past Problems

Notes:

Hello everyone! Apologies for no chapter last week, that was part of the announcement I was supposed to make and didn't. However, I will be posting on Tuesdays and Fridays for the next few months to make up for it. I've had more time to write recently, so I thought I'd post a bit more regularly. Anyway, sorry for the lapse. Have a chapter!

What are we going to do now?

That question was rampaging through my mind with an unfamiliar violence. For the first few hours of quiet contemplation, it was a literal question: how do we pull ourselves out of the hole I dug. As I thought, it morphed into a broader subject, at least for me. Whatever happens now, I have more than just my relationship with the Institute to think about it. The kids, Sanctuary, the Brotherhood, returning to the UNSC, all of it has to factor into what happens next. These are the kind of decisions I left up to my handlers and brass, but now I'm not only responsible for making them, I'm the one who has to plan and carry them out.

And that affects the people around me too. In a way, that's something I was excited about; I never had the opportunity to see the 'fruits' of my work under ONI. Now- now I not only see it, but the ones I'm affecting are people I've come to care for. I don't have people I need to protect, they're people I want to protect.

I should have known it wouldn't be that simple.

Around noon, there was a knock at the door and it slid open to reveal Porter pushing a cart loaded with several trays of food. Despite the shrink's protests, X6-88 and X2-17 entered with her.

Wordlessly, she pushed the food toward Nate and began placing the trays on the table. The female Courser followed the smaller woman while X6-88 stood in the center of the living room, eyes behind his dark tinted sunglasses fixed on my visor.

The tense silence blooming to fill the small apartment was thick and heavy, barely intruded upon by the moving plates, but I was more focused on the two hunters. Maybe it's because I've spent the better part of a decade hunting ONI's targets, but after a while one picks up on cues. These two were ready, and eager, to pounce. Any wrong move, sudden noise, or hell even a look they didn't like might set them off.

It was the same for me. My legs were coiled tight, arms by my sides, but ready to strike out at a moment's notice. Nate was standing less than two meters away; I could cross that gap before either Courser had the opportunity to act. Once he was secure, these two would be easy prey in hand to hand combat.

"Helen-"

My head snapped to the ex-soldier, same as the two Coursers. The sudden attention seemed to catch him off guard, but he continued anyway.

"Helen, why are you bringing us food?"

The psychiatrist sat at the table in front of her plate and glared at me. "Just because Damon did something incredibly stupid doesn't mean we can't still be hospitable."

I cocked my head. Incredibly stupid? "You won't air your dirty laundry."

"That's right, dirty laundry you don't have any context for." She wasn't defensive, she was angry.

"Context for experimenting on people?"

"You're a soldier, are you not? I'm sure you've carried out orders you didn't understand."

Every order I was given.

Nate shot me a glance before sitting across from Porter. "You're right, soldiers are given orders; they can't be expected to know the bigger picture and handle the fighting. We're still accountable to our own conscience." The ex-soldier frowned. I could almost see the memories of the ambush on his last deployment play out across his face. "We're encouraged to refuse illegal orders."

There was no immediate response. Instead, Porter took a bite of salad and slowly chewed as she thought. Was she considering what Nate said, or was she trying to come up with a way to counter?

"I understand your concern, but you have to understand this isn't quite the same as a battlefield. We aren't fighting an enemy you can destroy with force and it doesn't play by any rules of engagement. If we want to overcome it, we have to make sacrifices." Nate opened his mouth but Porter held up a hand. "I don't expect you to agree with me, but we have a code of ethics here we follow with as much vigor as we perform our research. Father- Shaun like's using our motto, Mankind Redefined, which is a perfectly apt description of our mission here. Another I personally prefer using is For the Greater Good."

For the greater good. A lot of horrible things have been done 'for the greater good.' Most of my career could be justified by that slogan. The SPARTAN IIs, the countless colonies we abandoned during the war, and atrocities in every war in human history have been done 'for the greater good'. They were done by people who thought they had the right to decide that for others. In the case of the UNSC, many of them may have been acceptable, but how many throughout humanity's history were? How many of mine?

I shifted but, as I opened my mouth to respond, the words died in my throat.

How many of mine were? I never questioned the orders I was given- what right do I have to question their motives?

I don't have to be perfect to call them on their bullshit.

Right.

I nodded to myself-

But Nate was already talking before I could reply. "Do you really think it's okay to experiment on innocent people when they have no say?"

The shrink looked down at her plate for an instant before meeting his eyes again. "That isn't as simple a question as you might think. The threat things like the FEV pose to humankind as a whole is incredible. These people- as draconian as it may sound, we select for subjects that are the highest risk, in isolated areas, with little or no resources and a high likelihood of dying. If we do nothing, we are putting far more people at risk. You've seen what the virus does. You've seen the Supermutants and how they're slowly moving further into the city, toward population centers. If we can't stop them, they'll overrun places like Goodneighbor and Diamond City, then how many would die?" Porter sighed. "I hate what we have to do, but I understand we have to do it."

And there was the 'greater good' argument again.

The question is whether that made it wrong or not. I don't like the idea of anyone being turned into a lab rat, but Supermutants- I can understand the desire to stop them. Or eradicate them. That group I killed before the Brotherhood ambushed us, they were talking about attacking the city. From what I know, they don't have the mental capacity to develop cohesive command structures, but that doesn't matter when you can overwhelm a small, isolated population center with brute force. Maybe fighting isn't an option for these people.

Or maybe I'm just making excuses for them.

"I sure as hell don't agree with you on that", Nate replied, "how could I? These people you're killing- you are killing them by doing this- are trying to get by in an environment that already wants to kill them. You're making a decision for them they have no opportunity to make for themselves. Before you say anything, no, Damon shouldn't have broken into the lab." He glanced at me. "At least without thinking things through. That doesn't change what the Institute has done."

Porter hesitated, like she wanted to say something, but didn't know whether she should or not.

Eventually, the slender woman grunted, glancing between Nate and I. "Your son wishes to discuss this situation with you. I will allow him to discuss the specifics behind our reasoning."

She doesn't have clearance to discuss it? "Why are you here?"

"To evaluate the situation and determine whether it is safe for Father to meet with you under these circumstances." The way Porter said that, it was as if there was nothing more obvious.

"You- you think I'd hurt my own son", Nate said, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Not you."

Me huh? I guess I can't blame her, and maybe that fear is a good thing.

The ex-soldier leaned back in his chair. "You think Damon is liable to go off the deep end at any moment." He looked at me again, a hint of amusement in his eyes despite everything. "I won't lie and say the bastard doesn't scare me, but he isn't going to do anything that sort of stupid."

She shot me a questioning glance. "You're sure about that?"

"He can speak for himself on that one."

I shrugged as they both looked at me. "As long as no one else does something stupid first."

"You aren't the most trustworthy person."

"I never said I wouldn't break into any labs."

Porter squinted at me, while Nate cracked the ghost of a smile. "It is implied when someone allows you into their home, you'll respect their rules."

Breaking into the lab isn't the issue at this point, it's whether I'll attack Shaun. "If I wanted to assassinate anyone, I would have done it when you gave me the opportunity at the status meeting."

"That isn't comforting."

"It's the truth."

The shrink frowned. "Father would very much like to speak with you, and I am inclined to believe you are telling the truth. However, betraying his, and my, trust again will make things far more difficult for all involved."

Nate grunted. "The feeling is mutual. Shaun is my son, but keeping secrets from us isn't the best way to gain our trust."

"I believe that is fair", Porter said with a nod. "X6-88, would you please tell Father it is safe for him to visit?"

"Yes ma'am", the dark skinned Courser said in his customary, flat tone before slipping back out into the hall.

"Damon, can I ask you something?" Porter continued, voice adopting the same soft, questing tone I've heard from countless shrinks.

I shrugged again.

"Why did you break into the lab?"

Dammit, I'd told Nate I broke in to get the serum, which means the Institute knows now. Can I use that? There's no point in lying about it if they know now? I'll need to find some way to get it to Virgil, but it could give me an out for-

"Dr. Virgil helped us get here", Nate said, "told us about the Molecular Relay and how to use it in exchange for helping him with a problem." He frowned. "I didn't know he was going to do it like that, but he took the opportunity to gather some information too."

"I see, so it didn't have anything to do with Dr. Li wanting to talk?"

I shook my head, but Porter didn't look convinced. She didn't push though. "What you must have seen there wasn't pretty, I'm sure. Despite defending the Institute's practices, the Force Evolutionary Virus project was one very few were privy to. I know of it because several of my patients worked in that lab. What they did wasn't- well it turned my stomach."

Nate leaned forward and clasped his hands on the table in front of them. "It's harder when you've seen and know people above ground. It hurts to think any one of them could have been taken for testing. Especially considering what some of them have been through." The ex-soldier met my gaze.

"Would you care to share one of those stories?"

Both of our eyes snapped to the psychiatrist.

"Why?" I demanded.

She sighed. "I've lived down here my entire life. It's easy to see the people above as… separate, different… but part of my job is to open myself to anyone and everyone. I've never talked to a Wastelander, but I'd like to. I want to get to know them, what they're like, what they think, and who they are. You two are the closest I've ever gotten."

So not all of them share the same ideas of the citizens in the Commonwealth? I probably shouldn't be surprised.

"Most of the ones we've met have been kind and helpful", Nate said. "They're just trying to survive in a really, really bad set of circumstances. Some of them have had it worse than others, some of them are dirtbags trying to take advantage of other people- to his credit, most of the people Damon has killed have been them- but they're all people too. I just don't think anyone deserves those sorts of experiments."

Silence settled back over the apartment as Nate fell quiet. My mind ran back through the people I've fought, and killed, since coming here: the Raiders in Concord, the ones that attacked Sanctuary, the Triggermen, Kellogg, Goodneighbor, Gunners, The Brotherhood- damn. That's a lot of people in two months. I've certainly made my share of mistakes, but I hope what Nate said was right. Goodneighbor… that one still bothered me.

"Thank you", Porter said, eventually. "I'd like the opportunity to learn more, but I expected as much. I hope I get the chance to leave here one day and experience the Commonwealth for myself."

Nate smiled. "It has its challenges, but who knows, maybe we can fix that."

Footsteps approaching from the hall interrupted our little heart to heart. A few seconds later, the door slid open to admit X6-88, another Courser, and Shaun. The two Synths stepped to either side of me while the gray haired man walked over to the table, followed by X2-17. Nate and Porter stood to greet him.

"I am glad we can speak", Shaun said, "I did not wish to leave things where they were with the others."

The Coursers bracketing me had me on edge, but nothing good would come of doing anything.

The ex-soldier squinted at his son. "Where are they exactly, Shaun?"

"You clearly have unanswered questions, primarily about our methods and, I am sure, whether we're keeping any other secrets from you. I promise, nothing is being purposely kept from you. You two have only been here a matter of days, please allow time to acquaint yourself with the Institute before assuming we are trying to hide anything."

"The first thing we learned wasn't promising."

Shaun nodded. "I understand, father, and while it may ring hollow at the moment, the Forced Evolutionary Virus experiment was our most… difficult project to undertake. Many different personnel worked on the project at various times because of its subject material." The Institute leader held up a hand to head off Nate's response. "I did not come here to argue with you about it. I wish to discuss the reason for our methods on a broader scale."

Of course you don't want to talk about that. Experimenting on innocent civilians doesn't reflect too well on your organization.

"What do you mean?" Nate asked.

"I mean the reason for our current approach. The Institute is in a… very precarious position at this moment. Many variables are coming into play at a decidedly inopportune time. I am sure you are aware of several: the Brotherhood of Steel, the Supermutants, increased Raider activity, multiple third generation Synth escapes, and others besides. Combining these uncontrolled factors with major project undertakings and some of my own shortcomings, the next few months will be pivotal to the success or failure of the Institute."

The ex-soldier's face twisted into a confused frown. "What do you mean 'your own shortcomings'? What does that have to do with anything?"

A brief moment of hesitation had me curious. "Allow me a few moments to explain some contributing factors before addressing that." Shaun paused, looking from his father to me and back. "We currently have three primary challenges: power, escaping Synths, and interlopers, be that Raider gangs moving in from the west, Supermutants, or the Brotherhood of Steel. You have already encountered our escaped Synth problem, on more than one front." The way he said that wasn't quite accusatory. "You are on the same side of the Brotherhood as us, and the Supermutants wish to destroy all regular humans. The Raiders seem to be a more recent development, but what we have seen is concerning."

"So your resources are stretched thin."

"Not necessarily. Once our problem of power output is solved, which we are nearing completion on, the only question will be how quickly we can produce combatants. No, they only turn into a major constraint when combined with… my shortcomings. I have not adequately evaluated and prepared for several eventualities, not the least of which being open warfare with the Brotherhood of Steel."

"I take it you want our help with that."

Shaun nodded. "In part, but it is not the only question I have neglected to answer." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I glanced at Porter who was staring at the older man, eyes glistening.

When the Institute leader opened his eyes again, they were filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. "I have not adequately prepared anyone to handle the nexus of challenges the Institute now faces. The Division leaders are fantastic in their own right, but there is a chasm between overseeing their wings and overseeing the Institute, especially in such trying times. Thus, I have adopted the approach of expediency, even over ethics in some cases. It is not something I am proud of, but sometimes it is difficult to plan for the far future when everything is happening now."

Nate cast a worried glance at me. "Shaun… it doesn't sound like I'm going to like where this is going."

"That is because- it truly pains me to say this, father, more than I could ever express- I am dying."

… shit.

Nate froze, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion.

"You're- dying?" The ex-soldiers voice matched the uncertainty on his face, like he wasn't sure what those words meant.

The grey haired man nodded solemnly. "I am. Cancer. We have tried all available solutions but none have ceased its progression." He sighed, the ghost of a wry smile on his face. "In my desire to push the Institute as far as I could, I did not do the one thing necessary for it to survive me."

"No-" Nate said, "no, come on, you're able to make artificial humans. There has to be something you can do. All of this technology-" The ex-soldier was pleading, but it almost sounded hollow. I couldn't blame him. Maybe I don't have much sympathy for Shaun, but Nate… He's been through hell and back to get here, everything going wrong along the way.

He found his son a lifetime older than he expected, only to now discover he's dying. Life hasn't been kind to me, but the way it's fucking with Nate almost felt sadistic. What did the guy do to deserve all this? If karma owes me, I'm not sure what to say about him? He's borne his burdens with a lot more grace than me, and yet…

"We have only been able to slow its advance", Shaun said, shaking his head. "Please- allow me to finish." He paused for a breath. "Because we have been operating on a limited timetable, we have had to do things in an unfavorable fashion. That is part of my decision to bring you here; you have experience no one else does, including myself and the rest of the Institute's leadership. I believe those experiences will be essential in the coming months."

"Shaun- I don't give a damn about that right now." Nate's frown had deepened, and the muscles in his neck were strained. The confusion was gone, replaced with wide eyed despair. "I just got- I just found you. I can't- I can't lose you again."

"Unfortunately, that is not up to either of us." Shaun sounded genuinely remorseful. "Time is not an issue yet, however. The rate of progression is slow at the moment, thus, for the time being, my focus is on the wellbeing of the Institute and its interests. I do not expect you to understand or agree with all of our methods now, but I would ask you allow me the opportunity to convince you of their merit."

The merit? You want to convince us, somehow, experimenting on civilians has merit?

"What do you mean 'merit'?" I asked.

The older man turned to me. "Contrary to what you seem to believe, our organization is not built around the sacrifice of others for our means. The Forced Evolutionary Virus project is one I have and will always regret, but it is something we have explored all other options for. We have tried using Synths, cadavers, even Institute volunteers, but the results were… not observable in the field."

"That's only one project."

Shaun nodded. "You are correct. There are many others, some pivotal to the survival of the Institute, and by extension the Commonwealth."

"How long do you plan on hiding those?"

"Well", the Institute leader said with an irritated grunt, "your interference has changed how we intended to introduce things. That decision is still being reviewed."

I hadn't given it any thought, but that makes sense. Probably for the better; I'd rather force their hand than allow them to tease info out however they want.

"How long do you have?" Nate asked, voice was so subdued, I wasn't sure Shaun heard it until he looked back at the ex-soldier. "You said time isn't an issue yet, but that doesn't tell me how long we- you have."

"I'm sorry, I do not know." He paused for a moment before returning to address me. The older man's face was blank once again. "I know what you think we are. I did not come here to argue with you, but determine whether we would be able to have a productive relationship. I will return once a decision has been made on how we will proceed."

With that, they exited, leaving Nate and I alone.

Alone.

"He's- he's dying." The ex-soldier's voice was so robotic, so detached, it could have come from one of the Coursers. His expression was anything but. The strained neck muscles and deep frown were replaced by narrow eye, red faced fury. "I found him. I swam through the shitstorm that my city has turned into for two fucking months, and not only do I find him almost twice my age, he's dying." By the time the ex-soldier was finished, his voice reflected his anger.

And I couldn't blame him. After everything we've done to get here after everything he'd already been through. Insult to injury doesn't come close to doing it justice. Wha-

"Now what?" His frustration was aimed at me all of a sudden. "I'm stuck in here because someone decided they wanted to break into a goddamn lab. I have limited time to get to know my son who's lived an entire life without me and I'm under house arrest."

I wanted to be annoyed, snap back at the smaller man, but I could understand- hell I could empathize with his pain. Even how he's deciding to deal with it. There was one thing I wouldn't feel guilty about.

"Breaking into that lab wasn't the wrong move. How long do they keep that hidden? This place-"

"Is shady and does a lot of horrible shit", Nate finished. "You think? Do you think you're the only person who has experience with backasswards people doing awful things? I haven't told you half of what I heard about going on before the bombs fell." He paused, squinting at me, "actually, I haven't told you any of it."

I shook my head. "Organizations like this specialize in manipulation, especially given your relationship with Shaun."

My companion scoffed. "You- you honestly think I don't know that." It wasn't a question. "This is the same as when you thought I didn't know we're under surveillance. Do you think I can't look after myself? I survived on active duty almost as long as you've been alive. I had a lifetime of wonderful experiences being manipulated before that."

Do I think he can't look after himself? Fighting maybe but… other than that? "No-" wait, was that the right answer? "I think you're capable of taking care of yourself."

"Then act like it, goddammit", he barked. "Maybe if you stopped acting on whatever instincts you used to play off of while I'm trying to be more diplomatic, we wouldn't be in this situation."

The way he said 'situation' suggested he was talking about more than the Institute. It was hard to argue with that; I've kept us alive, and we're at least in the Institute, but we're being detained here, enemies of the Brotherhood, who have Julian, and banned from the two largest settlements in the area. There are plenty of things I've done I won't apologize for, but this isn't the first time someone's questioned my methods. Not the first time I have.

One question was glaringly obvious though. "How would you have gotten this information out of them then?"

"Talking. The thing that, between the two of us, I do way better."

"And when they lied to you?"

Nate blinked slowly. "You trust me to know when that's happening, or at the very least know it's a possibility. Remember when I said I'd trust you with the fighting if you'd trust me with this?"

That wasn't exactly how that conversation in the Glowing Sea went, but close enough.

I nodded.

"Yeah well, this was one of those times." He sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever, you did it anyway so here we are." Suddenly the smaller man grew sober once again. "Shaun's dying. Nora's gone and Shaun's dying." Once again, the man, the father looked lost.

That's an expression I've seen a lot since coming here. It's easy enough to recognize when someone throws themselves into something to ignore a problem. Nate's a soldier, he uses action to do it. But now, there isn't any action to distract him. That's something I've started struggling with too.

We didn't have to wait long before there was another knock at the door. It was Shaun, Porter, and two Coursers once again. The shrink watched Nate closely as they entered with the same appraising gaze I've seen from my own with ONI. There was something else in her face though, a softness around her eyes that looked like concern.

"The division leaders were unable to come to a consensus on what to do, so the decision has been left to me", Shaun said as the four of them stopped in the living room. The escorts' eyes were locked on me, but for the first time, I was more interested in what the older man would say than the threat the Coursers posed. Shaun's eyes met my own. "I believe what you did was out of genuine desire to discover what we were hiding from you, and not out of some malicious intent. I also believe you did so in the interest of my father as much as yourself. However, I cannot allow something like that to go unattended."

I hadn't given too much thought to what type of 'penance' they would want. At a point, I do need to decide how to approach them about getting back to the UNSC. Nate is probably right here; if we want their help, either with that, or getting Julian back, I need to play ball.

Things were so much easier when I just needed to know who to shoot.

"It is a… personal request, but one I have deemed important enough to determine whether I can trust you." He turned to look at Nate who was, once again, sitting at the table. "As I said when you first arrived, my age and my illness have forced me to confront questions I have not for many years. I said my mother, your wife, was… collateral damage during my retrieval, and that is truly how I saw things for most of my life. As I am faced with my own mortality, however, I find that… changing."

The ex-soldier squinted at his son. I was thinking the same question that was on his face: where is this going?

"Shaun", he said slowly, "if you're trying to make me feel better about all of this, there are more important things to worry about. I don't know what to think right now, it's just- this has been a difficult few months."

The Institute leader nodded. "I understand, and I have given a lot of thought to this. While it may not be the ending we want, and I have never put much stock in tradition, I believe it may help both of us with some sort of closure. Kellogg is dead, and you are here; a journey started a lifetime ago is finally complete. Giving Nora a proper burial seems a suitable way to honor her and put an end to this… difficult chapter."

That was an interesting way to put it. A journey started a lifetime ago… it almost sounded like Shaun feels Nate is supposed to be here.

"A proper burial?" the ex-soldier asked quietly. "You mean a funeral?"

"Yes."

A funeral? Would that help? Shaun said it would give them closure, but this isn't over yet. Whatever happens, Shaun is still going to die, and we still have a lot to do.

Maybe this doesn't all need to be over for Nate to get some closure. He watched Kellogg murder Nora. Shaun is right, Kellogg's dead now and Nate is back with his son, regardless of what form that takes. It might help him accept what has happened, and what comes next.

My friend took a deep breath. "I would like that."

"I'm glad we agree", Shaun replied. "It was actually Dr. Porter's idea, and I think a fantastic one." He turned to me. "Which is what I have decided on for your penance. I would like you to retrieve my mother's body from Vault 111. I am aware you have a relationship with the community living in the houses below, so it should be easy enough once you arrive."

Like someone flipped a switch, Nate seemed downright eager as he stood from the small table. "We can leave-"

"No!" The older man held out a hand as if to set it on his shoulder before it wavered. "I- I know you trekked across the Commonwealth for months prior to arriving, and I know you wish to bring her body back yourself but I cannot risk losing you. And… considering our limited time, I want to spend it with you, getting to know you, and learning about my mother, who she was as a person."

"But Shaun- this is important. If we're going to do this, I want to be the one to bring her back."

That struck a chord. It made sense in a way not many things do for me. There's nothing left of my parents, my sister, and maybe the idea of a funeral doesn't mean much to me, but being able to give them the respect Nate is trying to give Nora… She was and is obviously important to him, and if I've learned anything from the people I've met here, it's those things, those people are worth the effort.

But then there's the flip side. Maybe he has ulterior motives, maybe he doesn't, but Shaun seems to genuinely want to spend time with Nate. That's… also something I understand.

The image of me laughing as my father carried me through the market in my home city flashed through my head. A vague sense of contentment and excitement followed. It would be difficult for me to be the sentimental type after everything that has happened, but that moment feels like one I would very much enjoy reliving.

What Shaun is asking hit as close to home as it possibly could.

"I'd like a moment alone with Nate", I said.

Suddenly, three more pairs of eyes were fixed on me. Their expressions were a mix of confusion and surprise.

"Why?" the ex-soldier asked.

"To talk about this."

Porter cleared her throat. "Yes, Damon, we'll come back in a few minutes."

Shaun looked at her, then to me, his carefully neutral expression back in place. The older man nodded and they, and the two Coursers, left.

Nate was staring at me, eyes narrowed. "Okay… so what's this about?"

"I won't make a decision for you, but I can bring Nora back. You asked if I trust you to handle things your way. Like I said earlier, I was probably too concerned with how difficult this situation has been." I shrugged. "You don't need me here, and as much as you want to bring your wife's body back yourself, I think it would be a good idea to stay."

Silence slowly draped itself over the room as the smaller man held my gaze, expression unreadable. He might have been considering whether my about face was genuine or not, and I'd be lying if I said I was comfortable leaving him here alone, but he was right: I hadn't trusted him. I guess that's still too new to me.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" Nate asked slowly, eyes still fixed on my visor.

"I'm trusting you."

"Which would mean I have to trust you with Nora."

I cocked my head at the smaller man. "Yes."

"She was my wife, Damon, you understand that, right?"

No… I don't. How could I?

"No", I replied, "but I can appreciate it."

"Appreciate it", he echoed, voice low. I nodded. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"Less risk, and it gives you the opportunity to learn more about what's going on here."

The ex-soldier's eyes narrowed. "Mhmm. And?"

Am I that easy to read? "Your son wants you to. You have that opportunity. Let me do this."

His features softened and Nate smiled. It wasn't necessarily happy, more… understanding. "I get it. Even if you can be… infuriating at times, I have no doubt you can bring Nora back here." I cocked my head again and my friend nodded. "Yes, I'll stay." He looked around the room. "How long do you think it'll take whoever is listening to tell Shaun we're done?"

I smiled and shrugged.

That turned out to be five minutes. Once Nate informed Shaun and Porter of his decisions (as if they didn't already know), we discussed how to get Nora back. They wanted to send at least X6-88 with me, but as much as I'm trusting Nate to handle the Institute, I don't trust a damn thing about them. And the last thing I need is to show up at Sanctuary with a Courser. Instead, they gave me a radio, a remote for the Vault's control system (not sure how they have that), and my weapons back. That last one must have had Ayo happy. The thought brought another slim smile to my face.

Despite my acceptance, doubt still swirled at the back of my mind as I checked my equipment. Physical violence isn't always the solution, but the threat of it can go a long way to… dissuade unwanted activities. I'm not good, hell I'm barely competent when it comes to social interactions, but the threat I pose is a good deterrent. Without that deterrent, it's impossible to say what the Institute will try.

I've already agreed to this; the faster I get it done, the faster I get back.

An hour after our conversation ended, I was standing back in the small room housing the Molecular Relay. As much as I'd like to stop by the Railroad and check in on Cassandra and Thomas, the Institute would undoubtedly be tracking me.

A technician gave me a thumbs up from behind the console outside.

No turning back now. Time to stop thinking and start doing.

I nodded and the machinery began humming, growing to a crescendo before everything disappeared in a blinding flash of white.

Each time I've 'teleported' my body has grown more accustomed to the disorienting lack of sensory inputs. This time, I remained mostly aware of what was happening during the transit, which is to say a whole lot of nothing. After what seemed like both an instant and an eternity, my vision resolved and I found myself standing in the ruins of CIT once again. In fact, I wasn't far from the tower I'd hunted the Courser down in. Would I be able to scavenge a more effective weapon? The laser rifle was about as useful (or useless) for punching through armor as my HK-33. With the 12.7mm rifle with the Railroad, if I ran into anything significant, I'd be dealing with it hand to hand.

No. Get moving.

With everything that had happened, the sun was already well on its way to meet the decrepit skyline to the west. If I get moving, I can be in Sanctuary by tomorrow morning.

That thought in mind, I oriented myself and began north. It didn't take long to notice a few differences. I was never involved in static defense, but you pick up a few things dismantling it. One of the most important clues patrols look for is changes in their environment; does anything look different, feel different. In this case it was sound.

Periodic gunfire is omnipresent in and around Boston's ruins, but it's usually limited to short exchanges. Over the course of the first half hour, I counted at least a dozen gunfights within earshot. That was significantly more than I've grown accustomed to.

As I slipped through the burnt out city, navigating my way past collapsed buildings, large piles of rubble, and impassable streets, I couldn't help but wonder why. It wasn't a large-scale engagement, that would be a lot more obvious. It sounded like the normal small fights, but more spread across the wasteland.

My mind filtered through the possibilities as quickly as it could while most of my attention was on the dead skyline around me. Raiders wouldn't make sense, and it was in too many places to be Goodneighbor or Diamond City. The only other parties I knew who might be able to start that many small engagements were the Brotherhood, the Institute, Gunners, or Supermutants. Unless there were a lot of smaller camps I didn't know about, which in a city this size is certainly an option.

Even though the speculation was interesting, I didn't have enough information to determine who it might be, so I stowed the thoughts and focused on getting through the city.

I made it to the northwest edge before I got involved in one of those firefights.

It was when I began circumventing a large apartment complex. The surrounding buildings were small, mostly townhouses and what might have been a few convenience stores. I hugged the low lying buildings opposite the apartments, sticking to the shadows cast by the structures against the descending sun as best I could. As I drew even with them, muffled voices drifted from the towering complex and, before I could decide whether to investigate, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched.

Ducking into an alley between a half collapsed house and a storefront, I trained my laser rifle on the apartments, scanning for a possible target. Had whoever that was s-

A shot exploded into the relative silence. The round crashed into the house's crumbling brickwork a meter from the opening. I couldn't see the shooter's position, which meant it was probably north of me, hidden by the house. They took a shot when their target was obscured, so I'm probably dealing with amateurs. Or someone baiting a target.

Whatever the case, I can't risk someone following me out of the city. The round was from a conventional rifle, so it probably wasn't Brotherhood. I-

No. I should disengage and take another route.

I paused, mulling the thought over. Someone had seen me, even if it wasn't the Brotherhood, that information might get back to them.

And taking the time to deal with whoever just took a pot shot at me would give anyone in the area time to investigate. Play this safe.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

'Do things differently.' I guess that means leaving people who shoot at me alive.

It does if going after them is a bad decision.

Fine.

The alley took me to an adjoining road, and I continued north toward the edge of town. By the time the low lying houses, shops, and apartments of the city's outskirts gave way to the devastated wilderness around it, the sun had thoroughly submerged itself below the western horizon. I settled into the night, carefully avoiding any possible hostile positions. Twice I came across Brotherhood outposts, both on the south side of Cambridge. Even with my instincts telling me I needed to stay as far away from them as possible, I still skirted them and the town to scout their positions and troop strength. Even if their NVSs are primitive, it's still good enough to catch me if I'm careless, so I made sure to double check everything along the way.

These people either learned fast or didn't take this place, or me, seriously enough when they arrived. Now, both outposts were heavily fortified, with the same prefab fortifications Cambridge had, and at least a dozen armored soldiers on patrol. As for the Brotherhood stronghold, it was hard to get a count, but at least 50 of the cult members were standing guard, with a heavy perimeter established around the entire town.

Hanging around too long was a great way to get caught, so I took my leave after making sure I hadn't already picked up a tail.

Then, along my detour to make sure no one followed me to Sanctuary, I came across a group of Supermutants. A large one.

There were 20 or 30 of the revolting motherfuckers. They were held up in one of the small warehouses littering the area. The knowledge some of them may be the result of Institute experimentation did little to temper the roiling anger I felt surging from deep within me. This anger- the hatred- I didn't know what to do with it. I hated these things in a way I didn't even hate the Covenant.

Deal with it when I get the opportunity. That isn't now.

I had little doubt I could handle this motley group on my own, but I couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 clicks from Cambridge. Starting a firefight here wouldn't be smart, and trying to do this without firing a shot probably wouldn't work. I need to stay on task, and make sure I get the job done. Right now that's retrieving Nora's body, not executing Supermutants.

No matter how much I want to.

It isn't about 'the mission' either, this is about making the right decision, and not letting my own impulses make things worse.

So for the second time today, I turned away from a fight I wanted to get involved in. I desperately wanted to get involved in.

It was the right call, but it did nothing for my thoughts of tearing one of those cannibal bastards in half. It wouldn't bring the kids' parents back, the same way the Covenant I kill wouldn't bring mine back, but- at least it wouldn't happen again.

The rest of the trek passed in silence and I found myself in the rolling hills to the southwest of Sanctuary half an hour before the sun rose. With the sky brightening in the east, it would be better to wait until it broke the horizon before making my approach, no need to wake anyone.

Or give them a scare.

Besides, it would give me time to do a few checks.

My weapons had been in Institute possession for the better part of a day. Other than ensuring they were functional, I didn't check them for the bugs or tracers, that would undoubtedly be in them. The radio and remote were non-issues, both would have tracking devices, but I'd let those be. The thought of someone tampering with my guns though- that irritated me.

I found a small gulch and set about disassembling the HK-33. Sure enough, I found a small device, about the size of my pinky, tucked into the handguard.

Mfers.

The first thought that cross my mind was to crush the thing, but that would be stupid. They're either expecting that, or think I'm dumb enough I wouldn't notice it. I'll let them think the latter.

With the rest of the rifle meticulously searched, I did the same with my laser rifle, and found the same type of device secured to the inside of the weapon's housing.

Whatever these people wanted to learn, I wasn't going to give it to them.

By the time I was done, the sun was just beginning to peer over the desolate wasteland that had once been one of the world's densest metropolitan areas. I left my weapons, and the Institute equipment, buried in the gulch and began down the hill toward Sanctuary.

Disarming myself felt insane, stupid, ridiculous, especially given the circumstance. But I'm playing a different game now, with different rules. It wasn't what I'm used to.

That didn't mean I wasn't going to win.

As I approached the town, I was struck by how much more they'd developed in the few weeks since my last visit. I thought they'd made progress the first time back… that was nothing compared to the… stronghold now.

Starting with the two and a half meter tall perimeter fence they had put around the houses, it only got better from there. With regular firing positions and hardened perches elevated above the wall within, it was an extremely defensible position. They had also established a post at the top of the hill to the north. It was difficult to tell from the road, but it looked fortified.

A small door swung open as I reached the south end of the bridge and a half dozen armed citizens flooded out. Among them were the expected company: Preston, Alexandra, Julian, Sturges, and Macready.

I raised a hand in greeting and the Minuteman did the same before waving me toward them.

The two men I didn't recognize watched me with uncertain stares. Both wore armor, were tall, muscular, and had bolt action rifles held at the low ready.

"Soldier boy", Alexandra exclaimed as I stopped in front of the group, "your visits are a once a month thing?"

Something about the woman always seemed to put me at ease. Maybe it was that she was the first person I met here. Maybe it was that she'd never really been scared of me the way most civilians are. Whatever the reason, her relaxed posture, open, inviting, smile, and sincere, warm brown eyes, were a welcome change from the stiff, nervous Institute members I've been around lately.

"Not up to me."

She scoffed. "Damon, you can damn near anything you want to. Don't feed me that crap."

I smiled and cocked my head. "I can only take so much of you at once."

"Yeah", Julian interjected, "I can understand that."

As his mother slapped the back of his head, Preston chuckled and looked back up at me. "What brings you this way?"

"I need to get into the Vault."

"Oh?" He looked around the brightening landscape. "Well it sounds like you've got some interesting stories to tell, so why don't we get inside and figure out how we can help."

The two new faces, and Macready, never took their eyes off me as the others began back through the door. The ex-mercenary waved me through ahead of them.

I followed the others and, as I ducked into the settlement, it struck me the defenses were only the start of the changes. Even before walking up to the main row, the amount of work they'd done was incredible; patching up the ravaged houses, building small shacks in their yards, setting up more planters and crops. There were more people too. Several dozen milling around the small neighborhood, most stopping to gawk as I followed the welcoming committee up the road.

"Everyone", Preston called, "we'll introduce our guest at breakfast, for now we need to keep to our morning duties."

After a few more seconds of staring, the onlookers began to disperse and we finished the short walk to the large, yellow house they still seemed to use as their commons.

Alexandra turned to her son as we reached the house. "You got to say hi, but you have your responsibilities too." The young man tried to not look disappointed, but he nodded before walking off toward the east side of the small town.

I felt a spark of pride as I looked around the settlement, at the now fortified houses, the irrigation and purification systems, the crops, the generators… all of it was incredible. These people have come so far, done so much since I saved them two months ago. "Build your own livable conditions." That's what I told Preston before I left. They've gone far beyond that, and in an incredibly short amount of time.

"You look impressed", Sturges said, drawing my attention back to the small group.

"I am", I replied with a nod.

The engineer laughed. "Ya know most of this is your fault right?"

My fault? I cocked my head at the perpetually grease covered man.

"You think any of this is here without you?"

They probably wouldn't have survived the Raider attack at Concord without me. That was different people though. This group would make short work of those drug addled morons. "... I suppose not."

Preston nodded. "Life here doesn't give you many breaks. When one like you falls out of the sky, you don't waste it." He smiled, looking around the now bustling settlement. "I'll admit there's some luck involved, a lot of the people we've come across have been very helpful, but this is what you told us to do."

"All I did was kill a few Raiders."

"And gave us a second chance, made sure we were safe while we got established, and fought off another attack." The Minuteman laughed. "You suck at this whole 'gratitude' thing." He looked up at me like he suddenly remembered something. "A little birdy also told me some mysterious man in armor like no one has ever seen showed up to the Forged factory, wiped them out to a man, and brought the Finchs' eldest son back before disappearing." His expression asked the question for him.

"Yes."

"You think all you did for them was save their son?"

No… "I don't see your point."

A laugh erupted from Alexandra. "He'll get it eventually."

"You think so?" Preston said, mock concern dripping from his voice. "Damon, we've lived in this godforsaken hellhole our entire lives. Sometimes it takes something… crazy to realize things can change."

Ah. That was something I could relate to. "I see."

The Minuteman smiled. "Uh huh. So what brings you back up this way, exactly? You need to get in the Vault. What for?"

I looked at the others, and at the residents milling around us, stealing glances at me.

"Some privacy would be nice."

"Sure." Preston's massive hat bobbed as he nodded. "We can go up to the nest, if you don't mind being on watch while we talk."

"No."

"Let's head up that way then. Sturges, you mind finding us- or probably just me some breakfast?"

"Only if I can get Sammy to make it."

The Minuteman groaned. "I'd rather go hungry."

A few minutes later, the two of us were in the small cabin they had constructed on the hill. I was right about it being heavily fortified; the plates they used to reinforce the walls were thick enough to stop anything but the most determined projectiles. It also offered a great view of the surrounding forest, something they had sorely lacked.

"Don't tell me", Preston said, "this has something to do with the Institute."

I nodded. "We found them. And we found Nate's son."

"That's-" he started excitedly, but I cut him off.

"He's 60 now, the leader of the Institute, and dying." Those words… they didn't come out as easily as they should have.

"Oh… shit." The Minuteman looked up at me, suddenly solemn. "So, correct me if I'm wrong here, you said Nate was frozen in the Vault? And 200 years passed?" I nodded. "I'm guessing the Institute took his son and put him back in the freezer." I nodded again. "Did you… ever find out who it was that actually took him?"

"A mercenary named Kellogg."

Preston sputtered. "Wait- the Kellogg?"

"Yes."

"How does- you know what, never mind. You're from a different universe, Kellogg can be old enough to kidnap Nate's son 60 years ago."

"He's dead now."

The other man fell silent for a moment as we watched the forest around us. I didn't know if he was surprised I'd killed the Institute bloodhound, or contemplating the situation.

I've never found 'wilderness' to be particularly relaxing, but there was something familiar, and peaceful about this forest. It held a certain calm, even with the brown grass and underbrush, sickly trees, and lack of wildlife.

"Huh", Preston said eventually, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you killed him. I should probably be excited, considering the stories." He glanced at me again. "You're starting to get some of your own."

I don't doubt it.

"Such as?"

"Pissing Kleo, the gun merchant, off enough for her to kill you. Or try. Fighting your way through Goodneighbor to get back at her. Turning Diamond City into a shooting gallery, and almost bringing the place down with a Vertibird. Just to name a few."

I'm the one who turned Diamond City into a battleground? Goodneighbor was my doing, and my fault, but I'm not the one to blame for what happened in the stadium. "The Brotherhood decided to ambush me in Diamond City. Blame them."

"Relax Damon, they're just rumors." He flashed me a smile. "You don't seem like the type of person who would turn a gun on someone for no reason."

… If only that were true.

It's what I did in Goodneighbor.

Probably sensing my discomfort, the other man started talking again. "So you want to go in the Vault now. Why?"

"Retrieve Nora, Nate's wife's body and bring it back to the institute so they can have a funeral."

"I see", Preston said, sounding like he regretted asking. "Okay- is there anything we can do to help."

I shook my head. "Stay away from me while I'm up there. The Institute bugged my weapons and equipment. The less they know the better."

The Minuteman cocked an eyebrow under his wide brimmed hat. "Bugged."

"Trackers and listening devices."

"I was wondering why you didn't have any guns. Okay." He fell silent for a few seconds, eyes skipping across the forest around us without seeing it. "So the Institute- it's a lot like people say?"

There were rumors floating around about the Institute, but I didn't know many of them. My only experience with one is the way people fear Synths. I don't know if these people know Sturges is one, but they also didn't seem to have the same, almost superstitious fear and hatred of the organization.

"Yes and no. They want as little to do with the outside world as possible beyond conducting experiments."

"Conducting experiments…" Preston echoed, "what do you mean?"

Images of Virgil's lab, the FEV lab flashed through my mind. The same disgust and anger I felt when I first learned about them accompanied the despicable sights of that lab. It was something I really didn't feel like revisiting.

"You're better off not knowing."

I felt Preston's eyes turn back to me for a moment. "Ah."

Something in that word was… different. Like he was disappointed.

Why wouldn't he be? This isn't just curiosity, he's responsible for the safety of the people here, and he clearly has ambitions beyond Sanctuary at this point. My discomfort isn't important when it comes to his safety.

"Sorry it's just- they kidnap people for experiments." I looked down at the Minuteman. "I don't like that sort of thing."

He huffed in amusement. "I don't think anyone does."

I can think of a few exceptions. ONI and us, Halsey (even though I'm not supposed to know about her) and the IIs, the Institute. They had different reasons, but they all did it. How he said it made the statement sound a bit… infantile, but I think it's fair to say I have a more specific aversion than most.

"Anyways, you know how they do it? How we can keep that from happening to us?"

They wouldn't be teleporting this far away from CIT, and the settlement is probably larger than they want to deal with… "What you have is enough. They don't want a footprint, so something this large would be off their radar."

"You're saying they go after smaller groups? Like some of the farms around here?"

I shook my head again. "Too far away for them to risk. This area should be safe."

Preston didn't look satisfied, but he didn't push. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't give him any real assurances, but it did seem unlikely they'd go this far out of their way to get their… test subjects.

"I guess I'll take that for now. We still have enough of our own issues to worry about at the moment."

Images of how the settlement looked when we first arrived from Concord, skeletal houses with nothing by way of infrastructure or protection, flashed through my mind. Then the last time I was here, with the beginnings of their current, well established fortifications, food production, and housing.

"You seem to be doing better."

The Minuteman was thinking something, even I could see it playing out across his face, his fidgeting, and how he was suddenly very intent on the forest around us.

"What?"

His head snapped to me, almost like he was surprised. "This- I…" The Minuteman started before falling silent.

"Raiders?"

He didn't respond.

"Gunners."

That got a reaction. The other man winced before shuddering. It's been months since the attack, and they've established a fairly large, well defended settlement, but whatever they went through… it must have left some deep scars.

Something I can empathize with.

"What do you need?"

After a few more moments of silence, Preston grunted. "One of our scouts came across a group of them a few days ago. They don't know where we are, and we could probably deal with them ourselves but… I can't take that chance."

Dammit. I can't help them right now. There's already too much suspicion hanging over my head. Funny enough, if I did track down this detachment and kill them, it wouldn't be anything the Institute would be worried about, but they would still wonder why I went off mission. And they would probably think I was off on some expedition to screw them over. I don't like the Institute, but I need them, and I've worked too hard to get here to throw it away because I was emotional.

"And you don't want to put any of your people at risk because, if they fail, they may lead the Gunners back here."

Preston nodded. "I think it's fair to say if I can trust anyone to not lose that fight, it's someone who killed a dozen Raiders with a busted arm."

I nodded. "Can you hang tight a few days? I need to get Nora's body back to the Institute." His eyes narrowed. "I'm already on their bad side", I continued before he could respond. "This is a favor to Nate. I'll help as soon as I can."

He held my gaze for a moment before releasing a low sigh. "Yeah- I guess I was just hoping a little too hard you'd drop what you're doing and help. Sorry, that wasn't fair." The Minuteman smiled. "We'll keep a low profile and double watches until you're able to head back this way."

Footsteps on the hill behind us caught my attention and there was a rap on the reinforced shack's door before it swung open to admit Alexandra. She was carrying a plate of fruit and bread. "Sturges got stolen to help with something on the southern wall, so he stuck me with being your server."

"How thoughtful of you."

"There's a first time for everything." She shot him a warning glance. "Don't get used to it."

Preston laughed. "Alex, I'd expect a Yao Gui to do it first."

The brown haired woman stopped beside him, scowling. "Do you want to eat this food, or do you want to wear it?"

"I'd like to eat it, ma'am."

"You should stop talking."

The Minuteman mocked being chastened as he took the plate. "Yes ma'am."

There was something… oddly satisfying about watching them have this type of back and forth in front of me. Nate and Cassandra were the only ones I spent any significant time with that were comfortable enough to have this type of conversation. Everyone else still had their guards up when I was around, even people like Deacon who carried a practiced nonchalance. The people here though, at least the ones I'd originally helped, were relaxed and open. It was strange.

But it felt good.

"How long are you staying this time, soldier boy?"

Alexandra's voice snapped my attention back to the present.

Crossing the wasteland during the day wasn't impossible, or necessarily difficult, but it would be safer at night. Darkness is always good for visual cover. "Until tonight."

She frowned. "You're coming back for at least a few days before you get plopped back into whatever the hell universe you're from."

It wasn't a question.

I nodded. "Of course."

"Good", she pointed at the food. "That's for the both of you, Preston."

The Minuteman rolled his eyes. "Damn, and here I thought I was getting extra rations today."

"Right, Grace thinks you've been overcompensating since we settled down here."

He blinked, looking between Alexandra and I for a silent moment.

"Did she just say I'm getting fat?" he asked me.

"I believe so."

The other man scoffed as Alexandra smiled mischievously.

"You didn't hear it from me", she said as she began down the hill once again.

"If you're going to be here until tonight, and you need to bring Nora's body out of the Vault, I'd recommend waiting until it's dark."

I nodded again. "Agreed."

"Great." He popped some sort of berry in his mouth. "I know you don't do well with people, but there are a few I'd like to introduce you to." The minuteman looked down at the plate in his hands. "After you eat. I'm guessing you didn't on your way up here."

"No."

"You came at the right time then." He ate another one. "Fresh harvest."

Handing me the plate, Preston began down toward the town.

He wasn't going to eat? "Don't-"

"It's fine", he said over his shoulder, "apparently I need to lose weight anyway."

That drew out a smile.

X

"Just a handgun", I said, looking at the well organized racks of firearms that would bring a tear to the eye of any quartermaster. They had turned the small, blue house that had been Nate's 200 years ago into a full blown armory with weapons, armor, ammunition, supplies… the works. It even had its own staff.

"You said you're going to be fighting the Brotherhood", Owens said, a short, well built, bald man with a thick beard and perpetual smile. "That means you're going to need more punch than a 5.56." He picked up one of the 7.62mm combat rifles and gave it a once over. "Even .308 probably won't cut it with their better armor, and you can forget about T-60."

Sturges nodded his agreement. "Ty, what about the MK-12c?"

Owens shot the engineer a pained expression. "C'mon, don't do that to me."

"Hey I'm just sayin. You want that thing to sing", he slapped my pauldron, "there isn't a better man in the wastes. Probably the planet."

"Yes…" he turned, almost reluctantly, to the area that had once been a kitchen and pulled a box of ammunition from a cabinet. Next he produced a rifle that, even with a quick inspection, almost had me salivating. It was all metal construction, matte black, with a much more normal looking receiver, free floating handguard with picatinny rails on all four sides, and a 508 mm barrel topped with an aggressive muzzle break.

"Someone lost their mind at some point and decided to make an AR pattern rifle that chambers this." The armorer produced a cartridge from the box. It was a 7.62mm bullet, but the case was much larger than a standard 7.62x51mm round. "300 Winmag. You put some steel penetrators or depleted uranium out of this, it isn't stopping until it hits something hard. Picked this up by chance on a supply run to a large shop to the south a few weeks back."

He slid the weapon across the counter toward me. "Sturges… you better vouch for this guy."

"Ty, I vouch for him."

He glared up at me for a moment before releasing the rifle. It was light for its size, but by no means felt fragile. In fact, aside from the McMillan, it was the nicest weapon I've seen since getting dropped here.

"I like it."

"You'd be stupid not to." Owens sighed. "I'll put together a package for it, what kind of fighting will you be doing?

"Everything."

"Of course. Alright, come back in an hour."

Sturges led me out of the makeshift armory and back toward the west side of the settlement. Preston had insisted I take a look at their armaments, which seemed like it was more to brag than anything else. But hey, I like to think of myself as an opportunist; I wasn't going to take anything, but if they're going to give me a rifle like that, I won't stop them.

As we walked, the few dozen people milling around the main area tried their best to hide it, but I felt several sets of eyes tracking me at any given time. I tried to not let it irritate me as much as Diamond City or Goodneighbor had. These people aren't them, they joined the original group I saved.

Along the way, we passed by several planters. Charlie, the young man I'd seen last time, was sitting at one, weeding it. Given how sick he'd been, it was a surprise he was still alive. His hands were just as shaky, and he looked just as gaunt and unhealthy, but he was still the only one tending to those plants. They had more crops at this point, so I had to imagine there were other people that could farm, but the kids still kept going. Alone. I caught someone occasionally glancing his way, but no one moved to help the struggling farmer.

"He doesn't like it when we help with those", Sturges said, voice solemn. "They're- really all he's got now. A lot of the folks here knew him and his family before they were attacked by the Forged. Thank you for killing those sons- no, sorry." He motioned toward the crops nearer the bridge. "Come on, there are a few people keen to see you."

Several people were working the patches of crops behind the houses there and, as we drew near, I recognized two of them: Abigail and Jake Finch.

"Well if it isn't the mysterious savior himself", the dark-skinned, brown haired woman said as she lifted her hoe from the dirt. "Word said you came in an hour or so ago." Her older son, Jake smiled as he looked up from his work.

The two farmers leaned their tools up against the side of a house and sauntered over to Sturges and I.

"Sir, I apologize for asking this, but we never got your name when you brought my boy back."

"Damon."

Abigail smile. "Well Damon I guess I have three things to thank you for: bringing my boy back, getting rid of those Forged for us, and tellin us to take a look at Sanctuary."

When I first met them, they didn't seem willing to move, had that changed? "Do you live here now?"

"Nah", Jake said, "but we help 'em out, planting farms, tending them, and in return they help us with supplies and protection. Even got a few people moving out that way to build houses of their own." His eyes fell to the ground between his feet for a moment before looking up to meet my gaze. "I'll never be able to repay what you did for me. I- I never would have got this second chance; I'd be dead or one of them." The kid snorted. "Probably dead."

Repay me? How would he repay me? I don't need anything, and I didn't attack the Forged because I wanted something in return. Hell, I didn't even do it to save him. Once I knew the situation, it wasn't like eliminating the rest of them was-

Difficulty doesn't equate to significance.

Right.

"I don't need you to pay me back."

"But I-"

"A lot of people don't have a family to go back to. Don't take that for granted."

Jake froze with his mouth open, like he wanted to keep talking, but he couldn't find the words.

His mother saved him from the awkward silence as she reached over and put an arm around his shoulders. "We appreciate the thought, but Finchs always find a way to repay their debts. It's true, we know a lot of folks who don't have family, and that's why I can't tell you how much you savin my boy means."

I didn't know what else to say, but it was clear they weren't going to let this 'debt' thing go, so I just nodded in response.

"Now if you ever find yourself in our area and need food or a safe place to stay, you just knock."

"Yes ma'am."

Apparently satisfied, Abigail turned and dragged her son back to their duties.

"'A lot of people' huh", Sturges said, looking at me with an expression I've seen far too many times on Nate's face.

"Later."

He smiled. "So that means you'll tell me."

I shrugged. "At some point."

"Mhmm, sure." The engineer waved me toward the west side of the street, and a house that looked-

Oh shit.

It wasn't neon red, but the sign that said 'Valentine Detective Agency' was hanging over the faded brown single story house's front door.

"It's about time you came back to visit us", the rough looking Synth detective said, standing inside the door. "Especially after that stunt you pulled in Diamond City."

Stunt I pulled? "The Brotherhood attacked me- us."

He smiled and nodded. "That's what I figured, but it isn't the story going around." Valentine stepped away from the door and waved us inside. "Come on in. I think I have a few juicy pieces of information you might want, and I need to hear about some of your more recent adventures."

Sturges stepped aside and motioned for me to enter.

If Valentine felt he had something I needed to know, I might as well entertain it. Not like I have anything else to do for the next few hours.

Inside the house, he and Perkins had set up an office similar to their small shack in Diamond City. The difference here is, there's a lot more space. What had been the living room was now a small waiting area, complete with a half dozen chairs, and a small table with several books. It seemed a bit ambitious, but maybe they had just done it for the aesthetic. The dining area was their office and workspace, while the kitchen was full of filing cabinets and equipment.

"You like the new place?", the detective asked, gesturing at their new 'office'. "A lot more space here than my little shack in the city, but I've grown fond of it."

"It's easier to stand in."

He snorted. "You really know how to compliment someone, my friend." The Synth shrugged. "Anyways, down to business. You guys got to the Institute I take it." I nodded. Valentine paused for a moment, struggling with something. Considering what he is, there's no doubt he has countless questions about them.

"Did you find Nate's boy?"

Did we find him? Yeah, we found him. "... Yes."

"That was ominous. You gonna make me guess?"

I shook my head. "He was 60 years old."

Valentine's eyes shot wide. "So they must have put him back in the freezer after taking his son. Where is he?"

"I left him at the Institute. Things have gotten… complicated there."

"Hmmm." The detective looked me up and down as he thought. "Are the stories about them true?"

"Some. Some that are worse."

"Well that's comforting, but it won't help us now."

Help us now? What? "What do you mean?"

"I mean we're probably safe from them as long as you're running interference, right? And besides, this place doesn't fit their MO; too big and too far away." Valentine pulled a small, well worn notepad from inside his jacket. "You've made quite the impression on the Commonwealth, between Skinny's gang, your stunt in Goodneighbor", he glanced up at me from his notes, "the fight in Diamond City, some mercenaries looking for someone named Curie talking far and wide about you. A lot of folks are wondering if you're some new Institute project." The detective smiled broadly. "If only they knew the truth."

So people know what I've been doing, at least some of it. Why is that important? "And?"

He put his notepad back in his jacket. "Point is, people are scared of you, at least people who have heard the rumors. Now a little birdy told me a lot of the more, let's say fantastic rumors about you have been spreading from the Brotherhood. Sounds to me like you had a falling out with them around the same time you all decided to turn Diamond City into a warzone."

"More fantastic rumors?"

The Synth nodded. "Yeah, you wiping out settlements, kidnapping people for the Institute, ideas you're some kind of new Supermutant. You know, the usual mass fear propaganda." He smiled. "Some of the stuff I've been hearing is pretty wild, like how you wrestled a Yao Gui with your bare hands."

I shook my head. "Deathclaws."

Sturges snorted beside me at the same time as the detective blinked. Hard. "What about them?"

"They weren't Yao Gui, whatever those are."

"You're telling us", Sturges said slowly, "you wrestled Deathclaws."

"I had weapons, but yes."

The two of them shared a long glance before Valentine waved whatever they were thinking away. "I shouldn't be surprised, but it doesn't matter. The stories about you are going to keep spiraling."

Why should I care about what people think of me? "So?"

"The Brotherhood is out for blood, both yours and the Institute. They've tied you to them in the public's eye, which it seems is appropriate. They're doing everything they can to paint you as the bad guy, which means you won't have many safe places to go. That means you need to be careful about what you do from here on. If someone catches wind of you, you can be damn sure the Brotherhood is gonna hear about it."

Footsteps approached from the road behind us, and I turned to see Perkins walking through the door of their new office. She was still dressed in the same fashion as the first time I saw her, skirt, vest, short sleeve shirt, and scarf.

"Damon", the brown haired woman said, "I heard you were around. I'm sure Valentine has been regaling you with the stories we've been hearing.

I nodded. "Yes."

She shot him an annoyed glance. "I'll be in the back, when he's done, can you come find me?"

I nodded again. As Ellie walked past us, she gave Valentine another glare and was gone.

"She, understandably, doesn't like rumors", the detective said, a hint of regret in his voice. "Ellie spent a lot of time fighting rumors about me in our early days together. I just thought it was fair for you to know what's circulating about you, and how it might change how you do things."

"I understand."

"Good! Now", he smiled again, "let's hear some details."

Notes:

Even with the wildcards I've thrown in the mix thus far, the story has pretty closely followed the framework of the game. That's mostly because, to this point in the game, I thought it was pretty good. The reveal of Shaun as Father was really good and, while there were plenty of issues prior to it (which I tried to address), I enjoyed it to this point. While it may be a bit spoiler-y, after that reveal, the story fell flat for me, so I decided to change it. Without giving anything away, you're going to see that very soon. I'll see everyone in a few days!

Chapter 29: Loss And Regret

"So what are you going to do to get him back?" Perkins asked.

We don't even know where he is. I shrugged. "Not sure yet."

Valentine, Sturges, and Perkins sat quietly while I stood in the center of the house the detective now used as an office. The three of them were thinking, probably trying to come up with a plan of their own on how to deal with the Brotherhood. While I welcomed the help, none of them are tacticians, and certainly aren't experienced with the type of fight this was going to turn into.

"There's one thing I don't understand about this story. You said they sent three armored soldiers after you, while they had just as many escorting these three kids, along with a half dozen others. That doesn't sound like an ambush to me." The detective shook his head. "Or at least not one that's the primary goal of the operation."

They had us in a confined space with three miniguns. That sounds like an ambush to me. But something hasn't sat right about that with me either. The Brotherhood doesn't do things in half measure. If you aren't sure of your enemy's capability, overkill is never a bad idea. That's combat 101. That left two explanations: either they thought that was overkill or-

"Their primary objective was to extract the kids."

Valentine nodded. "That's what the evidence has me thinking. But why? If they know you're a threat, and they know you're going to stab them in the back, why wouldn't they get rid of you?"

Leverage. Maxson had been using the kids as leverage, and if they didn't want me dead, they wanted me to do something for them.

"Hmm", the Synth hummed, "you don't think they wanted you to infiltrate the Institute for them, did you? I mean, of course they did, but even after the whole 'you shot a bunch of our guys' thing."

I know I wouldn't want to risk using someone I'd just- oh…

Ellie tapped the desk in front of her. "We don't have any prior experience with the Brotherhood of Steel, but there is plenty of historical precedent for this, and not just for fighting. Abusive relationships also share these sorts of key marks." She looked at him. "Could they still be trying to use you?"

"Yes." I've been concerned with them following me, ambushing me again, or finding Sanctuary and using it as a hostage, but those might not have been their primary goals.

"What if…" Valentine started slowly, "they were watching you from a distance, waiting until you found a way into the Institute so they could copy your methods?"

That's something I hadn't considered. Now we were talking about it, the possibility seemed so… obvious. How had I missed that? Maxson is smart, and experienced, and any good commander will have a backup plan if their primary strategy fails, especially given the variables he was dealing with.

Sturges shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Do you think they coulda followed you to the Railroad?"

I shook my head. "No. We were careful." That was one thing I did right.

"Are you positive?" the detective asked.

"Yes. The Railroad has very thorough countermeasures."

"Okay. I'll take your word for it." Valentine didn't sound completely convinced, but he didn't push. "What about that Dr. Virgil you tracked down in the Glowing Sea?"

It was certainly possible, not like we had been subtle. All they had to do was follow the dead wildlife. But Virgil hadn't known how the Molecular Relay worked aside from needing a Courser chip.

"That would only get them halfway. They would still need to build something to intercept the Institute's teleportation network."

Sturges grunted. "Halfway is better than nothing."

"I think we may be getting off track", Perkins interjected. "We could theorize about how the Brotherhood could make it into the Institute until the sun burns out, but it doesn't matter. What matters is they could still be using Damon, somehow, and it's probably to get to the Institute. That means the ambush wasn't to kill you, it was to delay you long enough to get those kids away from you."

That made sense, especially given how conniving Maxson was. I got the feeling the 'Elder' would use any means necessary to accomplish his goals. I wouldn't go as far as capturing kids, but I could respect the sentiment. To a degree.

"They're probably still trying to use me. That doesn't change anything at the moment."

"Won't you have to deal with them at some point?" Valentine said through a frown.

"If I want the Institute's help, but I'll deal with that when the time comes." There are a lot of things I have to do, and figure out, before that happens.

"Is there anything we can do to help recover Julian?" Ellie asked.

I shook my head. "Don't do anything that would connect you to me. The Brotherhood will clearly use any advantage they can get."

"That's fair but…" The secretary stared into my faceplate. "The way to describe them, how you think they're treating him…" Something flashed through her eyes, and the memories of what she had told me about orphans in Goodneighbor came to mind. "It would kill me to think about someone doing that to him, turning him into a child soldier."

I wasn't sure her statement was aimed at me, but the way she was watching me- it was possible.

"That's not going to happen."

"It's nice to say that", Valentine said, "but how are you gonna do it?"

"Still working on it."

"Right… I've seen you in action, and it was damned impressive but…" the detective's eyes narrowed. "I don't see how you're gonna take on the Brotherhood."

"We'll see. Never done anything like this with limited resources." I shrugged. "There are always options."

"And you're sure you don't want help?"

These people are resourceful, and probably effective enough fighters at this point. But they aren't soldiers, they aren't special operations, and they aren't SPARTANs. They don't have training or experience in destabilizing large operations, or outright warfare. They're innocent people, and I'm not going to put them at risk for my own mistakes.

"Yes. They captured Julian and that's my fault."

"Damon", Perkins started slowly, "this is our fight too. We may not be soldiers, but we have just as much at stake here as anyone else."

"I don't want-"

"To get us involved?" The secretary's eyes and voice turned hard. "We don't need anyone to protect us from the dangers this world has to offer. We've lived it a lot longer than you. Our best chance is to help you, and your best chance is to take all the help you can get."

I blinked. That was a stark contrast to Ellie's normal disposition.

Valentine chuckled. My surprise must have come across in my body language. "Now you know what I feel like. She's right. Do whatever you need to, but we're here to help." He looked toward the front of the house, where slowly oranging light was pouring in. "The Brotherhood are going to make sure you have as few places to go as possible. Sure, it will be through propaganda and lies, but that's what people listen to. Fear. Don't waste the friends you do have."

As much as I wanted to say he was wrong, that I could handle the Brotherhood without putting anyone else at risk, I couldn't. Even on the countless solo operations I ran, I had support, an intel team intercepting comms, mapping terrain, tracking enemy movements, supplies, and numbers, advising on targets. I was the one pulling the trigger, but each operation was countless man hours to put together before I ever hit dirt. And I'm not dumb enough to think I can do this with everyone else in the Commonwealth coming after my head.

But two months ago these people were only concerned with surviving, with making it to the next day. Now a war is looming and they want to be in the middle of it? It was like with Nate pushing me to bring him along. It just felt… wrong.

"If I need something, I'll let you know."

"Oh you will", the Synth said with a small smile. "Just know we're here for it when it comes to that."

Sturges stood, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright everyone, we've pestered him enough, I think. Ty is probably ready with your rifle anyway."

The engineer began toward the door, but Valentine and Perkins held my gaze a second longer. The detective was impossible to read, but Ellie was frustrated. Concerned and frustrated. I could understand that, but I've already made mistakes that cost people, I don't need to do the same thing with them.

As I turned to follow Sturges into the evening light, something occurred to me: Ellie never mentioned Goodneighbor. If Valentine had known about it, she had too, but the secretary didn't say anything. I expected her to be, I don't know, at least disappointed. Disappointed I'd attacked the town, killed innocent people, got more killed in the crossfire and explosion. Perkins had been more concerned with whether I would accept their help than anything. Even though he asked about it, the detective had been the same way.

Why? Shouldn't they be upset?

"I wouldn't worry too much", Sturges said as I exited the house. "They know more about what's going on in the Commonwealth than most. They don't wanna see their home ruined, like everyone else."

"Getting involved is only going to get people killed."

The engineer turned and looked up at me. Maybe he was trying to mediate, but his face was just as determined and hard set as theirs had been. "Damon, if what we're hearing is right, that's gonna happen anyway. You may not like it, we sure as hell didn't, but the Commonwealth's a mean spirited son of a bitch." He shrugged and turned back toward the settlement's main street. "Food for thought." Without another word, he began walking.

I reminded myself these people, at least the original group, have been through a lot on their own. I don't know what those who have joined since then have experienced, but if their stories are anything like the ones I've encountered, like Charlie, or the Finchs, they aren't pretty.

Isn't that why I should do everything I can to keep them out of this fight?

If they want to. And they're right, regardless of how this shakes out, the fighting will change things here.

I started after Sturges.

They don't know what they're getting into.

Neither do I. They've lived in this wasteland, I've been here for two months.

My gaze was drawn to the sickly, gaunt teenager tending to his planters.

They know how bad the Commonwealth can be. They know it a lot better than I do.

I drifted to a stop beside the small wooden boxes.

A kid who lost his parents, condemned to die from severe radiation sickness. My mind flashed Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian's faces. Three more who had lost their parents to Supermutants. One of them, twice. Alexandra losing her husband, Nate essentially losing his entire family.

I'm not unique here. All of these people have suffered hardships and losses. The difference between them and I is they moved on, while I tried to, somehow, make up for something I never did wrong. I don't know if that's strength on their part, weakness on mine, or just different circumstances. Here I am though, trying to make this decision for them-

"Hey!"

A strained, slightly wheezy shout drew me out of my thoughts. I was still standing beside the planters, staring at Charlie.

"What do you want?"

His gaunt, sunken eyes were glaring at me with an intensity that didn't seem possible for someone so sick.

"What?" I asked.

The dying kid huffed. "You're standing there, staring at me with that creepy ass helmet. What do you want?"

The collective gaze of everyone in the immediate area fell on me.

"Hey Charlie", Sturges said, stopping beside me, "we're good here." He motioned back toward the small, one story blue house that, 200 years ago, had been Nate's. "Let's get going."

I wanted to tell him I hadn't wanted anything, and that was the point. I don't want anything from these people. They're here, trying to survive. Hopefully I can make that easier, but that's-

Not my job. It's what I want to do.

Even more reason to do it.

After retrieving my new rifle, I noticed a gathering of people at their common house. They were crowded around something and-

The dog.

The dog- German Shepherd- Nate found at the gas station on our first trip to Diamond city was lying at the edge of the car port.

He looked up at me as I left the makeshift armory. He didn't seem interested in whatever was going on behind him, instead standing and trotting over to Sturges and I.

"Hey Dogmeat, how's it going bud!" the engineer exclaimed as the large, brown and black dog pushed his face into the man's hands, tail wagging wildly.

"Did you keep Dennis out of trouble?"

Dogmeat, apparently, let out a low whine as the engineer scratched behind his ears. Not that I have any experience in the matter, but that sounded like a pretty ridiculous name.

The German Shepherd watched me as Sturges pet him, sniffing at the air.

"This guy's been incredible; he has a nose for danger," the engineer said. "He'll usually tag along with our runners, kept more than a few of them from getting in trouble. I forgot to ask last time, where did you guys find him?"

"Gas station a few klicks south."

Eventually the dog grew bored of the other man and began sniffing around my boots and legs.

"You think he remembers you?"

I shrugged. "Don't know." The sun was just over the hills to our west, about ready to duck behind the trees above us. It's orange glow was slowly turning red, and the sky a gentle pink. It wasn't a bad sunset. "I need to get moving."

"You don't need my permission."

"Right."

There was a long, unpleasant night ahead of me. As I thought about carrying Nora's body back, it struck me I didn't sleep last night, and the night before I'd only gotten a couple hours of shut eye. I'd be ready to drop by the time I got back to the Institute.

X

Bang!

Whatever mechanism lowered the platform into the Vault sounded like it didn't have much life left. The massive, cog shaped elevator started downward with a hard jolt.

Then the alarm started bleating, filling the night air with an obnoxiously loud, warble. Preston had told the people down in Sanctuary this was going to happen, but it could draw unwanted attention. At this point all I could do was hope there were no Brotherhood personnel in the area.

Or any of the other people who want me, or the people in Sanctuary, dead.

In case something did happen, they were at arms. Hopefully it would be unnecessary.

Once the platform jolted to a stop, I found myself at the base of a short staircase. It led up to a walkway running through a massive door that looked like another cog.

As I carefully climbed onto the gantry, the rusty, worn metal groaned worryingly, but it held. Several skeletal remains had fallen over the sides, and a half dozen more were on the platform at the end of the elevated walkway. Nate had a handgun when he came out, but he hadn't killed these people; they were far too old. The bones were completely devoid of any soft tissue and, when I kicked at one, it crumbled into dust.

I've never studied forensics, but I remember reading about skeletal decay… at some point. These bodies had to be more than 100 years old.

Scanning the area ahead, I checked the platform for any unwanted surprises before heading toward the hall at the far end of the platform. With how dark it was in here, it must have been a nightmare for Nate to navigate. That was without accounting for him just waking up from cryo after 200 years, and watching his wife get killed in front of him.

More bodies were scattered in the hall beyond, some of them not human. There were a dozen or so of the large, mutated bugs I've seen above ground, half rotted, among the human remains. Those were probably ones Nate dealt with on his way out.

The construction of the Vault was odd, with exposed wiring and pipes running along the passage's ceiling, and irregular transitions between circular supports and intersections. It seemed like whoever built it was in a hurry and used anything they had on hand. Several doors lined the sides of the hall, but Nate had told me where Nora's body was: end of the hall, large room with eight cryotubes lining either side. Her's was the last on the left.

I've never been uncomfortable underground, and plenty of the Innie positions I've hit have been in bunkers, but something was different here. Stalking through the halls of this old relic to a distant past- Nate's past, that was meant to house people during the end of the world felt wrong. It wasn't the Covenant that ended this world, it was humans. Sure, we had fought plenty of wars, especially during the early years of space exploration but… Nothing like this.

As I approached the large, open door at the end of the corridor, I came across another pair of skeletons, both holding handguns. One had several gunshot wounds to the head, but it was impossible to tell if the other was hit in the exchange or not.

Even though whatever happened here happened a century ago, I could almost feel their fear and desperation. Terror that would have led two people to stand face to face and shoot each other at point blank range.

This place was dead, in more ways than one.

After ensuring no surprises were waiting for me in the cryogenic chamber, I slipped in and made my way toward Nora's pod. These ones weren't like the UNSC's, the one's I'm used to. Instead of sleek, streamlined cylindrical pods, these were square and bulky with exposed hoses and wiring. A control panel on the right side of each pod had dials that, surprisingly, were still powered, and a large red handle. That was no doubt a manual emergency override.

I stopped in front of Nora's pod-

There she was. Nate's wife, Shaun's mother, her body resting in the oddly proportioned box. If it wasn't for the crusted red hole under her left eye, and the blood splattered across the interior of the pod, she could be in cryosleep.

Despite the need to get this done, and get back to the Institute, I found myself standing there, imagining what the situation must have been like. Nuclear holocaust raining down around them. A bomb detonating over the area just a few dozen klicks south of Sanctuary. Carrying a newborn child to this place with no clue what was about to happen. Then-

When you wake up from cryo, it isn't like regular sleeping; you're placed in suspended animation. For you, the time between going in and coming out is instantaneous. Nate wouldn't have known 150 years had passed, all he knew were there were people there, taking his son and killing his wife. Then he blinked again, they were gone with his son, and another 60 years had passed.

But for him, it was about 10 seconds after he got shoved in this cryotube.

I placed a gauntleted hand on Nora's pod.

What would have been going through her head? She'd been running for her life one moment, the next someone was trying to take her son from her with a revolver in her face.

Nate had said they took Shaun and shot her when she wouldn't let him go… Through everything the only thing she could think about was keeping Shaun safe.

An image flashed through my mind: my mother holding a rifle, firing through an open door at a Unggoy trying to charge us. I was cowering behind her, my sister pulling me away from the alien. Grunts are small, weak, scare easily, and have the intellect of a toddler, but back then- they were terrifying. My mother had been in the local militia, she knew how to handle herself, but at that moment, I could see the same need to protect us as Nora had to protect Shaun.

My hand pulled back and balled into a fist.

There aren't many humans I feel disdain for once I've killed them. Only one other comes to mind.

Kellogg though.

I wish I could kill Kellogg again.

With my hands.

I need to get moving.

Right. As much as things may have changed, empathetic musings aren't my strong suit. They probably shouldn't end with me wanting to break someone in half.

Pulling a rolled up canvas body bag from my satchel, I laid it out on the steel grated floor and unzipped it. When I stood again, I stared into the pod's small window at the long dead woman for a few more seconds before pulling the red handle.

The cryotube's seal broke with a gentle hiss, and a low warbling siren sounded as the front of the capsule slid forward, then up.

Whatever cryogenic process they used, it must have malfunctioned because her body was covered in frost, head to toe. Nora was on the tall side, with dark brown hair, a slender face, and proud features. She was fit, dressed in the same tight blue jumpsuit Nate had been wearing when I found him. Calling the woman striking would have been an understatement.

Easing her from the pod, I laid the dead woman's body in the canvas bag. I stood over Nora for a moment, looking down at her. The last thing she probably felt was fear. Desperation and fear. Fear for her son more than for her own life.

I know what that looks like.

With the bag closed, I gently lifted it from the metal floor and draped it over my left shoulder. It would be hard to fire a rifle like this, but if everything goes well, that won't be necessary.

Something felt off as I marched back down the dead hall toward the Vault's entrance, but I couldn't place it. It wasn't the dead woman I was carrying, or the dead Vault I was walking through, or the memories, or the feelings of empathy, or the anger. A question was buzzing around the back of my head I couldn't pin down or put words to.

It didn't leave as I commanded the platform to rise back to the surface, or as I snuck my way back down the hill, or as I began the journey south across the dead, desolate wasteland toward the broken city once more.

The question felt as though it should be obvious, like I'm missing something both incredibly simple and important. But I couldn't grasp it.

Something that should concern me.

Something about the Institute

Something about Shaun.

X

My trek passed quickly, and without incident. I ran across the occasional wild animal that tried it's luck, but I don't need two hands to wield a knife. Nora's body didn't weigh enough for me to notice, but it still felt like I was carrying an extra thousand kilograms on my shoulder. It wasn't painful, but it was difficult. At least I could give Shaun and Nate the opportunity to have closure. Well, closure with this, anyways. That's something I never had the chance at.

I made good time, and was nearly back at CIT by the time the sky began brightening over the destroyed city.

This has been, by far, the easiest task I've undertaken since coming here, physically. But… it didn't feel that way. The only things I could compare to it were finding Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian at the West Everett Estates, and watching the Vertibird with Julian on it disappear over the crumbling rooftops of Boston's skyline.

Even though I had little doubt there were Coursers hiding in the ruined buildings around me, I didn't reach for the radio I had tucked in a MOLLE pouch. I paused in the shadow of CIT's main building, a large, white structure with crumbling pillars and archways that probably looked awful when they were new. This… feeling of unease had chased me all the way from Vault 111, and I still couldn't put words to it. It's beyond what I already know about the Institute, something new, different. There was something missing.

Well, I can stand here and draw even more suspicion, or I can look for more information.

Grunting, I reached for the small radio.

"Ready for pickup", I said into the device.

A split second later, a pair of Coursers burst into existence a dozen meters from me in a brilliant flash of light.

That was fast.

It was X6-88 and X2-17.

As they approached, the female Courser reached for Nora's body. "I'll bring her to our-"

"No." I turned away so my body was blocking her from Nora. Slipping the radio back into its pouch, I grabbed the pistol grip of my new high caliber rifle, making sure both Synths saw it.

"I do not wish to fight-"

"Then back off." I'd done this for Nate, not them. I'm going to see it through to the end.

Both Coursers stared at me. Ayo hadn't told me as much, but it was plain as day these things didn't feel fear, or excitement, or any emotion most likely. They were probably thinking of the best way to engage if-

"Understood", X6-88 said. "Please stand close to me."

I blinked. Not everyone is figuring out how to win a fight at all times. I should have figured that out by now.

The two Coursers continued watching me as I forced my muscles to unwind.

Walking over to stand beside the male Synth, we were enveloped in another blinding flash of light. In an instant were standing, once again, in the small room surrounded by machinery.

"Please follow me." X6-88 began forward, walking through the room of technicians and computer equipment.

He, along with X2-17 and a guard contingent of regular Synths led me back through the facility to the ARD. Nate and Shaun were waiting with Dr. Porter and Li in a small room near the rear of the wing. It looked like an infirmary, but it only had one bed that looked more like a table, and very little by way of medical equipment. Several cabinets, a shelf full of unfamiliar implements, and another, smaller cart set off in the far corner.

There was no customary smartass comment from the ex-soldier. He only stared at me, or more specifically the black canvas I had over my left shoulder.

"Please set her on the table", Shaun said, motioning to the- ah it was a surgical table- in front of them.

I gently set the body bag on the table's stainless steel top.

Nate stepped up to my side, staring down at the black canvas covering his wife. His expression was completely and utterly blank. It was a face I'd seen on other soldiers before, one that said he was doing everything he could to keep himself together.

The ex-soldier's eyes betrayed him. They were hard, full of pain, and had an ever so subtle sheen, like he was trying his damnedest not to cry.

Intellectually, I knew noise from the facility around us was present, the gentle waft of the HVAC system circulating air through the room, the quiet rush of liquids flowing through pipes behind the steel walls around us, the murmur of voices from scientists and technicians outside. It didn't seem like that though.

It seemed like the sounds of the world around us faded away, leaving the five of us, standing around a surgical table with a woman who had been dead for 60 years laying on it. A woman who, for Nate, had just died a few months ago. Someone who had been murdered in front of him as his son was taken, right after watching his world blow itself to hell.

Someone he'd never gotten the chance to mourn.

Maybe I can't empathize with it, but I can sympathize with it.

He reached forward, grabbing the bag's zipper. I almost grabbed his arm to stop him. The wound hadn't been pretty-

But then he knew that, didn't he? He'd watched her get shot.

The body bag's zipper felt unreasonably loud in the silence that blanketed us as, inch by inch, Nate revealed his wife. First her brown hair, then the pale skin of her forehead, her eyes, the gunshot wound, bottom of her nose, her mouth. As soon as he got past the bottom of her chin, the ex-soldier stopped, slowly pulling his hand away from the zipper.

The ex-soldier's carefully neutral expression began to crack as he stared at her. His mouth dropped into a frown, his brow furrowed, and the glistening sheen over his eyes brightened.

Shaun was looking on as well. He may have had much more time to come to terms with this, and had much more practice keeping his emotions under wraps, but this was affecting him too. This would be the first time he ever remembered seeing his mother, even her body, in person.

Porter and Li stood by, staring down at the long dead woman. They weren't upset, but both looked sober, even sad.

My attention was drawn back to Nate as he leaned forward and grasped the edges of the table.

"Nora-" he choked out and his mask began to break completely. "Nora I found him." A shuddering sob forced its way out and my friend squeezed his eyes shut as tears began streaming down his face.

"I'm- I'm sorry I couldn't- we couldn't-" he sobbed again, dropping to his knees, still holding onto the table.

"Do this right." The ex-soldier inhaled sharply and fell silent for a moment. The quiet was tenuous, like it knew it didn't belong.

"I- I didn't do any of this right", he forced out, voice thick and strained, on the edge of breaking. "I'm sorry."

And then his composure fell apart.

Nate- my friend- burst into sobs. They were so full of pain, so full of sorrow, I felt his cries stab deep into my chest. He had run from a troubled childhood, just to fight in a war that broke him. It was that same war that tore his chance at a normal, happy life away from him, took his wife from him, and his son. Every ounce of that pain, that helplessness, was flowing from the sobbing man.

He'd lost everything, despite being dealt a shit hand in the first place. The one opportunity he had at happiness had been shredded.

Unlike me, he'd been strong enough to move forward, to give life a chance.

And now he had nothing left.

How the hell was that fair?

How was it fair he had to struggle and fight all his life, then when he got one modicum of reprieve, of happiness, it was all torn away. How was it fair he's stuck in a post-apocalyptic shithole with a son who's now older than he is, and dying, and someone like me for a friend?

Nate's sobs continued as he sat on his heels, head resting against the side of the table, face soaked with tears.

The only way I could think to describe the harsh, painful, desperate sobs was broken.

He'd kept it together this long, displaced from his world, his life, for Shaun. Now he was here, with the ruins of his family around him. Nothing left to keep it together for.

Nate had been completely, utterly broken.

I didn't pay any attention to my mission clock. We could have been there for five minutes or three hours, it wouldn't have mattered. This felt different than the first night we were here. It was a shock, a surprise, but not this, not- not this.

Shaun stood stock still, doing his best to keep the grimace off his face.

Li was staring at the floor, something strange radiating from her. What was it? Had she lost someone too?

"It took- there were a lot of sacrifices made to finish it, but it worked." Those words rang through my head. At the time, I thought her sober tone had been in respect for the people they lost. Now… I wasn't so sure.

For her part, Porter was watching Nate with the same, concerned expression I'd seen from shrinks before. Maybe it was my own assumptions, maybe she genuinely cared the ex-soldier felt like he was crying out the last of his resolve. But I don't trust psychiatrists, and I sure as hell don't trust the Institute.

As I watched, Porter and Shaun exchanged a glance before the Institute leader retreated to the room's far corner and Porter beckoned for me to follow.

What now? I stalked toward the two Institute members. They both watched with carefully guarded expressions as I approached. That's a great way to put me at ease.

Shaun cleared his throat, but it was still a little hoarse when he began speaking. "Damon, would you mind giving us some time alone."

My eyes narrowed. "For what?"

"To mourn", Porter interjected. The words were soft, like she was afraid speaking too harshly might hurt someone. That voice. That goddamn patronizing voice shrinks use. I can't stand it.

"I would."

They shared a confused glance.

"Excuse me?" The white haired man said.

"I'm not leaving unless he asks." I pointed at the still sobbing form.

"This is a private-"

"Private?" I hissed. "Private. How is this private?"

"Damon-" the slim woman started in that same goddamn voice.

"Don't patronize me, Porter." I felt X6-88 edge closer behind me. "Enough shrinks have dug around in my head, you aren't joining them."

She blinked, but didn't stop. "This is a personal matter."

I scoffed. "That's funny." My gaze turned on Shaun. "You could have made contact with us at any time. You could have brought us here at any time. Instead, you made Nate and I fight across that wasteland for two fucking months."

That was it wasn't it? That's why I felt so uneasy before. They could have saved us the time and trouble.

But that begs the question: why hadn't they?

Deal with that later.

"Nate knows me better than he knows anyone else here. I'm staying until he tells me to leave."

Why? Why was I so desperate to stay? There was nothing for me to fight, nothing for me to kill. That's what I'm good at. That's what I do. What use am I here? I can't do anything to help him.

I… I don't know. I don't know. But I'm not leaving him here on his own. Not when I'm the only one who actually understands what he's been through.

The two scientists stared up at me, both clearly unsure of what to say. I hadn't left much room for them to argue, and short of forcing me to leave (good luck with that), they didn't have much recourse.

"Is there a reason you don't trust us?" Porter asked eventually.

"Is that a serious question?"

She frowned. "Yes."

Where do you want me to start? "You haven't given me one to trust you, and plenty not to."

"It is not up to you how we disseminate information", Shaun said, voice still low but angry.

"You're right. Who I trust isn't up to you." I shrugged. "I'm not leaving. Save your breath."

With that, I turned away from the duo and walked back to Nate. His sobs had grown quiet, and the ex-soldier had his hand resting in his lap. He was staring at them, like he'd never seen them before.

"There are so many things I could have- should have done differently", he muttered, voice thick and nasally. "So much time I wasted- so many years I should have been home, with you. I just kept running. I just kept running. What was I running from?" Nate turned his glazed, empty eyes up to me. "What was I running from?"

The man's face turned angry, furious in an instant as he leapt to his feet. His eyes though. His eyes were still empty. "Huh Damon?! What the fuck was I running from?" He swung a closed fist at me again. The same one he had hit me with before. This time I stepped away, and his hand passed through empty air.

"Am I still running?" Nate's voice cracked hard. "Have I just been running all this time?! What were we doing? Why were we running back and forth across the place that used to be my home in the blind hope we'd find Shaun? What the hell got into my head that I thought I could find him?" He was yelling now. "Was I just hoping I'd find him so I didn't have to deal with the fact I watched Nora- my wife- the first person I ever really loved murdered in front of me? While I sat in that goddamn box?"

The ex-soldier swung again, and I stepped back again. "And then you." His voice broke. "You come along and everything is so fucking easy, right? Just kill your way through your problems, right? Killed Kellogg, didn't you?" The smaller man took a step toward me. "Just another body on the pile for you, right? You said it- you agreed with me."

Wh- what? I didn't understand what he was talking about. I know this type of anger though.

"Would that be her too?" Nate shot a finger at his dead wife. "Would she just be another dead body too? Is she just another dead body to you?" He took another step forward. "What did it feel like, carrying just another dead body across that hellhole above us?"

No… No it didn't feel like she was just another dead body. "No, Nate she's your wi-"

"Yeah!" He roared. "She's my goddamn wife. Just like that Gunner you killed, the one you wouldn't let me treat after stabbing her. You heard how the other one talked about her. She had someone waiting for her to get back and you let her die."

Wait- why is he bringing that up now? "She was-"

"She was a threat, yeah, I remember. That changes everything, doesn't it?" He stabbed a finger at me. "Especially when you see everything as a threat. That's the reason I almost lost the chance to get to know my son. My 60 year old son who is going to die soon. Because you see everything as a FUCKING THREAT. You even treated me like one. You remember? The first time we got to Diamond city?"

I held my hands out to my sides. My mind was starting to scramble, trying to figure out what was going on. I've been yelled at plenty, but this- I don't know what to do with this. "Yes Nate, I do, but I was wrong."

The ex-soldier laughed a harsh, loud, mocking laugh. "Holy shit I can't believe my ears! The fucking infallible supersoldier admitted he was wrong!"

What's happening here? "Why are you doing this?"

"Why am I doing this? I don't know Damon. Why the hell do I do anything now? It doesn't fucking matter does it?" He waved his arms around wildly. "None of this matters anymore. I've lost- if life's a game I've lost. Every. Step. Of. The. Way." He laughed again, bordering on manic. "So what, you're my friend huh? My only goddamn friend? The only thing I haven't lost. Well- I doubt you'll be dying any time soon. But you're still leaving aren't you? That's the goal, isn't it? So why the hell should I care what happens now?"

I know he's hurt. I know he's grieving. I know he's lashing out. I know on the fight or flight spectrum, he's firmly on the 'fight' side. I know what this feels like because I've spent the last 15 years doing it.

But that still hit me. It hit me in a way I've never even thought about experiencing.

It hit me because he was right. I do plan on leaving. I am his only friend and I'm leaving him with this. With… nothing.

"Nate I'm-"

"Don't you dare try and patronize me Damon. I've lost- lost…" his voice dropped in volume until I could barely hear it. "Everything." Another sob made it past the anger and despair and the ex-soldier buried his face in his hands.

My mind was reeling. I didn't know what to say, to do, or how to feel. I've never seen him like this. I've never seen anyone like this. There was nothing I could draw on, no sessions with the shrink ONI stuck me with, no conversations with any of the SPARTAN IVs. Nothing.

I'd told Shaun and Porter I know him better than anyone, but now, when he's hurt- there's nothing I can say. No one else in the room made a move. The three Institute scientists, even Porter, looked lost. I'm here because I'm the only person in this assbackwards world he knows, and now he's standing here, screaming at me. Why? What am I supposed to do about it?

"Go."

I stared down at the smaller man, disbelief blooming in my stomach. "What?"

His head snapped up and he glared at me. "There's nothing for you to shoot here."

My jaw clenched so hard, it felt like my teeth were going to shatter. He doesn't want me here? Why? What am I supposed to do?

After a few seconds of failed attempts, I managed to work my jaw loose. "Nate, what-"

"Goddammit Damon", he barked, "What are you gonna do? You can't bring Nora back, you can't cure Shaun. You're only good for killing things, aren't you? That's what you've always said- what your superiors always used you for. Well go kill your way through the Brotherhood, go get Julian back. Try and at least fix that fuck up."

The muscles in my abdomen tightened so hard I almost dry heaved. It wasn't just the memory of watching the Vertibird fly off with the small, helpless child. It was the idea that kid was in the same position as Nate, the same one I'd been in. He'd been taken from the only family he had left, he'd lost everything.

And it was my fault.

Anger began building at the back of my head.

What did that have to do with this? I'd just walked across the Commonwealth again to bring Nora back so he could grieve and now he's going after me? How does-

Shaun walked up beside the younger man, staring at me. He didn't have to say anything, I knew what that look meant.

Fuck this. That room is the last place I wanted to be anyway.

I spun on my heels and marched back out into the hall where my large guard contingent was waiting. Images of tearing them apart, beating them until they were nothing but piles of- whatever the hell they were made of paraded themselves through my mind.

But I didn't. I kept walking, head down, barely paying attention. I don't know if there was anyone in my way, nor did I care. I just needed to leave. Go somewhere else. I don't know where that was in this goddamn facility, but I needed to be as far from Nate, Shaun, Porter, Nora- all of it as I could get.

X

Why?

What had I done?

What did I do wrong?

Isn't that what you have friends for?

"There's nothing here for you to shoot."

"You're only good for killing things, aren't you?"

Is that what I still am?

Is that all I am?

Is that all I'll ever be?

Was he really using me the same way everyone else had?

Am I his friend?

Can I be his friend?

Questions- new questions- different questions, all careening through my head. They weren't the same ones as before, the ones about my past, my childhood, my actions, and my choices. These were harder. I never answered those other ones, how the hell am I supposed to answer these ones.

I just- I understand what he was doing. I understand how pain and grief can make people lash out. But knowing that didn't help anything. It didn't change the fact I wanted to help him, and I don't know how. That I wanted to be there for him, but didn't know why. That I wanted to stay, but it just made things worse.

And then there was how he came after me. If it had been two months ago and someone swung at me like that, they'd be in the ground. Now though- this time I just backed away. There were no thoughts of retaliation, no stopping myself from breaking his arm off. The fact of the matter is I have changed, but if that change only stops me from doing something, and doesn't help me do something else, is it really a good thing?

What good is a weapon that doesn't kill people? What good is a weapon that lets emotion get in the way? At the end of the day, no matter how I want to dress it up, no matter whether or not I want to change, that's what I'm always going to be, isn't it? A weapon? That's what SPARTANs are. The UNSC wants people to believe we're symbols of hope, the righteous hand of their benevolent rule.

What a joke.

We're people, just as dumb and fallible as anyone else. Some training, augmentations, and a suit of armor won't change that.

The UNSC, and ONI, send SPARTANs in when they want something dead. We kill things. Humans, Covenant, Remnants, Forerunner, doesn't matter. We ensure peace by killing anything that might threaten it.

So what am I doing here, after all these years doing that- and being extremely good at it- thinking I can change what I was made to do? After all these years diving into it without a question in my mind whether I should be? Killing so many people for no other reason than I was ordered to.

Who knows how many were Nora to someone.

And I think I have the right to change that now? I think I can change that now? Have I just been fooling myself, thinking I'm any different?

Everyone I've come across, the people I've helped since coming here- how has that been any different? I've helped them by killing others. It's all the same, all I'm good at.

It's what I was made for.

Even Nate, the person who forced those memories I've tried so hard to ignore for so long out, the person who's been with me as I've tried- even he said I'm no different. So maybe that's it. Maybe I'm just one monster here to kill others.

A half dozen sets of footsteps on the gleaming, steel floor caught my attention. I was sitting against a wall… somewhere in the facility. It was a hall, that's about all I know. I don't remember where I went after leaving the ARD wing. Didn't really matter. That place was somewhere I needed to not be.

I looked up to see the Synth guards around me stand off to either side of the painfully white corridor. Porter, and four Coursers, were walking through the other Synths.

"Damon", the young psychiatrist said, clearly doing her best to keep her normal 'shrink' voice to a minimum. "I'd like to talk about what happened."

"Why?" I responded, leaning back against the steel wall.

"Because that was a difficult situation, and I became a psychiatrist to help people when they're having problems like that."

Problems like that? Lady, you need a lot of catching up if you want to understand what's happening here.

"And how would you do that?" I only half intended to add the mocking edge.

Porter didn't seem fazed by the jab. "By talking, Damon, by understanding. It doesn't take someone with a psychology degree to see you're a special case, and right now both of you are going through a difficult moment." The woman's features softened and her voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I don't need to know what you've been through to know two things: you're extremely young, and even more upset. We can work through the details as needed. I'm not your enemy, Damon. I'm here to help."

I looked around at the two dozen armed Synths pointedly. "The guards say you're full of shit."

The shrink smiled apologetically. "I requested to talk with you alone, but Shaun wouldn't allow it."

"He's smart", I said with a short nod.

"He is, but he's also emotional right now. I don't think you would hurt me, I don't think you want to hurt anyone here."

I don't want to hurt anyone here? I barked a laugh and began climbing to my feet. "I was made to hurt people, Porter. How are you going to change that? How do you know a goddamn thing about hurting people? You've spent your entire life locked away in your comfortable, protected bunker, probably never been exposed to anything worse than a bad grade in school."

She stared up into my faceplate, uncowed. "You're right", she nodded, "there are a lot of things I don't know, but the most important part about growing, both as a professional and a person, is understanding when you're up against something you don't know or understand, and being willing to push through it. Sometimes what you need to do that is other people."

Silence fell over our small section of the facility as Porter held my gaze. Her head barely reached mid way up my chest, even out of the armor I probably weighed two and a half times as much as her, and I could break her in half with barely a thought. Yet she stood there, eyes firm and determined, not an ounce of discomfort in her.

"What Nate said was harsh, and wrong", Porter said eventually, "but it rang true enough to upset you, Damon. And it upset you because you don't want it to be true, if you didn't you wouldn't have cared. Not enough to find an isolated part of the Institute and spend the last 45 minutes stewing on it."

I blinked. It had been 45 minutes?

"You care a lot more than you want me to think. Maybe more than you want yourself to think. I'm not a psychiatrist because I had to be, I am because I like helping people." She took a step back. "My door is always open. Doesn't matter what time or what it's about."

With that, the shrink turned and walked back up the hall, and past the large guard contingent.

I stood there, staring after her for- well I don't know how long.

I care more than I want myself to think?

What the hell does she know?

I don't know. But it isn't like I know a whole lot either.

Chapter 30

Notes:

Hi! This is a story all about how- sorry, I'll stop, I was watching some Fresh Prince this week and the intro music has been stuck in my head. So we're back with another chapter. It was difficult to write this one because I genuinely feel bad for both Nate and Damon. Each is dealing with some very difficult issues, and while it would be easy to be upset at Nate for lashing out like he did, if you've understood who he is and his past issues up to this point, it makes sense. Plus, you know... the guy's entire world has been destroyed. Damon... well his story is obviously pretty complicated as well and the next few chapters will be... enlightening. Anyway, no spoilers! Leave a review if you are so inclined, and enjoy!

I didn't go back to the room. I doubt Nate would either, but the risk of running into him there… I didn't want to take it. There were so many things swirling around in my head, memories of the attack, of my operations, of my time here, of how I've changed. Emotions from sadness, to anger, frustration, and confusion. The noise in my mind was deafening. Deafening to the point I wasn't sure whether I was more aware of it or the real world around me.

Instead, I walked back to the Bioscience wing. I don't know why, maybe because that's where the latest frustrations started, but I'm not sure. It was the least busy of the three divisions and I needed a bit of time alone.

Just me and the two dozen Synths following me around.

Their presence registered, but it was background noise, like static over a commlink. I didn't care what they were doing or why they were doing it. In close quarters like this, if they wanted to start something- well, that wouldn't be smart.

The strange part is I didn't know what I was more concerned about, my own tumultuous thoughts, or Nate.

And then I remembered what he said: "There's nothing here for you to shoot."

He was right, of course, that's what I'm supposed to do: shoot things. Everything that's happened here has- well tried to change that, but killing is what I've done since I dropped in by Concord too. How could I expect this place to change me when I've been doing the same thing I've always done?

Then there was Porter.

"And it upset you because you don't want it to be true, if you didn't you wouldn't have cared. Not enough to find an isolated part of the Institute and spend the last 45 minutes stewing on it."

None of this makes any sense. The person who knows me better than anyone else here says I'm a killing machine, which is what I've always been, and then someone I met a little over a week ago says I'm not?

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Make up my own goddamn mind.

How? It isn't like I have any frame of reference. It isn't like I know anything else. My oldest concrete memories were of everyone I know being butchered by the Covenant. Since that moment, I've either been training to kill, or killing. I guess that's why ONI likes us so much, the older generation SPARTANs: we don't have any other perspectives. The only thing we've ever known is fighting. Hard to decide to change- decide to do something else when we don't have anything else.

I stopped in front of the massive hydroponics farm. Rows upon rows of well organized greenery, dozens of technicians attending to the plants. The room was the size of a cruiser's hangar. Even with my escort, I felt inconspicuous in here.

But I have been changing, haven't I? The reason I saved the group at Concord was completely different from the reason I'm helping Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian. It's different from the reason I agreed to help them now with their Gunner problem. It's different from when Nate and I decided to help Curie. It's different from the reason I felt good after bringing Jake back to his family.

Do I need a different frame of reference?

I don't know…

Several of the technicians paused their duties to stare at the large group of armed people at the entrance to their farm. It didn't last long, but it made it clear I was still out of place here.

Guess I'm out of place anywhere besides a battlefield.

Leaving the farm, I meandered toward the FEV lab, but didn't go into the back where it's entrance was. No doubt my 'escort' would stop me, and I had no desire to walk back through the lab. That information- those memories were fresh enough I didn't want to bother stirring them up again.

The worst part about this is not having anything to do. There's nothing I want to do in the Institute, and they sure as hell aren't letting me outside again. Shaun doesn't trust me- didn't trust me when he sent me out to retrieve Nora's body. The only reason he did it was because he didn't want to put any of his own units at risk.

Shaun. Now there's a topic. That motherfucker is an egotistical, manipulative bastard. And he's a lot smarter than me. Was this manipulation? Did he want this to happen? For Nate to lose it like that? For me to stew on his blow up? He couldn't know enough about either of us to guess what our reactions would be, could he? The Institute leader seemed genuinely upset about seeing Nora's body but…

If I've learned anything from ONI spooks, it's to never underestimate how creative they can be when they want something. How easy it is for them to use people like pieces on a board with no regard for those pieces themselves. I can't blame them per se, it's why they're so good at what they do, but after being one of their main pieces for so long… the thought of being used like that again grated on me.

And Shaun, more than anyone else, reminds me of an ONI spook.

Well if that is the case, what's his play?

Already back to this, huh? Haven't sorted out the mess in my head and I'm already trying to dive into the next 'mission'.

If this is what he wants, if he wants to put me off balance, shouldn't I do something else? Something… unexpected?

I stopped walking.

Shouldn't I figure out what's going on in my own little world before trying to solve the next problem?

When have I ever done that? Aimlessly meandering around the facility stewing in my own pity isn't going to-

Alarms began blaring just before an explosion from somewhere rocked the underground facility.

"INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! PLEASE EVACUATE TO YOUR LIVING QUARTERS!" A robotic, disembodied voice began squawking through hidden speakers.

My mind snapped back to the present.

Intruders? Who? And where?

The Railroad wouldn't do this, they don't have the manpower or the-

The Brotherhood.

The goddamn Brotherhood of Steel.

These assholes always have the best timing.

"Sir", one of the guards said in its odd voice that sounded more like a distorted speaker than a person, "your presence is requested in the advanced research division immediately."

Uh huh. Now there's something to kill, right? I was half tempted to tell the Synth to shove it up their ass. More than half tempted.

Why should I help them? Why should I save their asses when Nate, apparently, doesn't want anything to do with me anymore, and the rest of this fucking place is trying to use me like ONI did. Why should I help them when all they care about is their experiments, at the expense of the civilians of the Commonwealth? People they could improve the lives of immeasurably. The Brotherhood of Steel were no better, but who knows, maybe someone in the Institute would be competent enough to hit back.

But that isn't what I'm going to do.

Goddammit I wish I could indulge myself sometimes.

"Okay."

The contingent of Synths turned toward the door and began marching through as the floor shook once again and the low roar of another detonation hit us.

Were they teleporting bombs?

By the time we made it out of the now hectic BioScience wing and into the main commons, everything was in chaos. Scientists and guards alike running around in the cavernous room. The alarm was still blaring, and it certainly seemed like no one had any plan for what to do if they were attacked.

Two more detonations rocked the facility.

I huffed. These people really are helpless. In a straight fight, the Brotherhood would walk over them.

Well if I have to handle strategy and tactics…

The Brotherhood was essentially going on a bombing run. That's the only thing that made sense. If they just wanted to blow this place to hell, they'd use a bigger bomb. On top of that, it wouldn't make sense for them to completely destroy the facility; their goal is to wipe out the Synths, but there's still a wealth of tech down here. They like technology. I'll call bullshit on their professed reason for collecting it though. They don't want it to protect people, at least Maxson doesn't. They want it because it gives them the edge in any fight in this assbackwards world.

We made our way through the common area and toward the branching passage that led to the Advanced Research division, the panicked crowd doing its best to avoid us.

If that's the case, this was to soften up the Institute's defenses and create chaos. It's more effective than they probably thought it would be. No one in the Institute apparently decided to prepare for any intrusion.

I was operating against the clock; the Brotherhood probably didn't know exactly what they were bombing, which meant they wouldn't want to drop too many. So soon enough, soldiers are going to start pouring in, and if there was no organized response by then, Maxson is going to get his win in the first actual fight between these two.

Static defense sucks but there are a few things we can do here, and the Institute is operating on home field advantage. The issue with their facility is it's so decentralized; there are labs and living quarters everywhere, which means if they want to protect all of their people (and they will), their forces are going to be split.

The large group filed up the ramp to the level of the ARD's entrance and the first Synth reached the door to the wing and keyed it op-

A flash of light so bright and violent my visor couldn't compensate in time exploded just in front of the door.

"DOWN!" I roared and dove back down the ramp.

Whatever ordinance they were using, it wasn't that powerful. The pressure wave sent me into a tumble as I crashed to the steel floor, but other than ringing my ears, I was fine. I didn't hear the detonation, but then again, I couldn't hear anything.

A quick check ensured the MK-18c was still on its sling, my equipment was still intact and attached to my armor, and I didn't have any unnoticed injuries.

As soon as I turned back to look up to the next level, I understood. They were trying to keep collateral damage to a minimum, at least to the facility. Several Synths were half way down the ramp, two were torn to shreds, another had puncture wounds all over its chest and head, and one other looked unmarred.

These were shrapnel bombs, large hand grenades. They wanted to take out as many soft targets as possible.

That included non-combatants like scientists and technicians.

People here made me hate them more every opportunity they had.

Climbing back up the ramp, I was met with a massacre. Out of the 25 Synths that were with me, maybe a dozen were still alive. All of them sported injuries, three of them were missing limbs. If they don't have a large contingent of forces, this would be a quick fight.

As if to confirm my suspicions, the walls and floor, while pockmarked with small holes and scorch burns, were relatively unmarred.

It was both good and bad.

One thing's for goddamn sure though: I won't be trusting my security to these people again.

The ringing in my ears subsided as I slipped over to the door. It was still mostly intact, but with the panel beside it blown out, this was going to be a manual operation.

Letting the rifle rest on its sling, I jammed my fingers into the door's seam and began prying it apart.

With sparks arcing from the outer edges, and metal screaming in protest, the thick steel panels slowly slid aside until the gap was large enough for me to squeeze through.

What was left of the Synth guard contingent followed me and we double timed it past dozens of panicked Institute members.

"Where are we going", I shouted over my shoulder.

"Dr. Li's office", a response came.

Weaving through the corridors, several more detonations sounded around the facility before we arrived at the back of the Advanced Research Division. The same four people I'd left an hour before, as well as four Coursers, were cowering in Li's office.

Shaun glared at me as I entered.

I almost turned around right then.

"Is this your doing?" he shouted. "Are you-"

"You have about a half second to change your motherfucking attitude if you want to survive the next ten", I barked. They'll need my help to live through this. After what just happened, I'm in no mood to put up with their shit.

Talking to Shaun wouldn't be productive anyway. "Do you have any plans for defending against an assault?" I said, turning to Li who was standing beside her desk.

"No", the dark haired division leader replied, and I didn't miss the note of irritation in her voice. "There was never an expectation of intrusion."

"Great." I glanced at Nate whose face was still a mask of fury and pain. His eyes burned as he met my gaze.

Whatever.

"How many living areas do you have?"

The Institute leader was irate. "Do you honestly think-"

"Nate", I said to the ex-soldier, still looking at Li, "if you want anyone to survive this, you better get him under control."

"Get me under-"

To hell with this.

"YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE SOLDIERS IN POWER ARMOR START DROPPING IN DUMBASS", I roared so loud, they might have been able to hear me without the suit's external speakers. "I'M YOUR ONLY CHANCE AT LIVING PAST THAT." I turned my gaze on him. "Now if you say anything else unless I ask, I'm going to do the Brotherhood a favor."

Nate stepped forward. He was pissed. "Damon, you better watch-"

I stepped up to the smaller man, so close he had to crane his neck to meet my gaze. Every weapon in the room was on me. "You better stand the fuck down, Nate."

"ENOUGH!" Li shouted, looking at each person in turn. "We need to work together and the last I checked, only one person in here has the experience we need." Her eyes fell on me. "We have five living spaces, the largest one is directly beside the ARD. The other four are auxiliary quarters, two in the ARD, one in each of the other wings. Some of the upper levels have apartments as well."

I took a deep breath and backed away. "How many in each?"

"600 in the primary quarters, between 50 and 250 in the other 4 and another 200 in the apartments

"What is your guard contingent?"

"I'm not privy to that information", the division leader said, looking pointedly at Shaun.

The older man's facade of tranquility was gone. He was angry and scared. Getting shot will do that, especially to someone who's never been threatened.

"What is your guard contingent?"

Shaun continued staring daggers at me.

Your funeral old man.

After a handful of seconds we really didn't have, Porter stepped forward and placed a hand on the Institute leader's shoulder.

"We need his help. This is for the good of the Institute, Father. That's what we have to consider here."

A few heartbeats later, the white haired man scoffed. "200 Synths, 73 Coursers."

The 15th detonation sounded as he said that.

"Assume you've lost 30% of that."

Shit… that left me with less than 200 combatants.

And these people thought they were safe against the Brotherhood.

Too many variables and not enough firepower. Close to 1500 non-combatants, plus key portions of the facility…

"What areas are 100% vital for function?"

Li blinked, but answered unperturbed. "Bioscience and our generator banks." She was quick, and knew what was at stake. That was good.

"The generators are in the ARD?" She nodded. "Are there defensible positions in any of the living quarters?"

She thought for a moment. "Only the ones here, and the one for the BioScience team. The others branch off of the main commons."

Okay. Okay, that narrowed it to three essential positions to defend, one of which was closeby.

Another detonation.

I looked at Shaun. "Send everyone to the closest defensible position. Split the contingent, half of your guards and 60% of your Coursers guard the entrance to the Bioscience wing. Your regular contingent needs to make contact first and provide openings for the Coursers. Have them hold any heavy weaponry for sure kills. Try to turn the entrance into a killbox. Set shrapnel charges in the halls outside. If you don't have them, make them with whatever is immediately available. The remaining guards and half the remaining Coursers defend the primary commons, the rest are here with me."

His face was bright red, with the muscles in his neck so strained, it looked like they might snap. "We cannot just abandon our work."

"You will if you want to survive. You have 5 seconds to call it or lose my help."

"We'll do it", Li responded. She turned to her boss. "Father, we have to."

The Institute leader grunted. "Fine. I will contact the Dr. Ayo and the team leaders."

"Good", I looked at the Coursers in the room. "With me."

"Wait", Nate said. I was already turning. Whatever objection he had wasn't-

"I'm not sitting here doing nothing."

I scoffed. "What are you going to do? Fill space like you did while you served? Add one more body to the fighting?" Shaking my head I began toward the door. "Stay here. Wouldn't want you to get killed."

"Hey! You have no clue what I had to do to survive!" His shouting followed me out into the hall.

"You're right", I called over my shoulder, but I didn't stop. Him being involved would only make things more difficult. As it is, I'm gambling the Brotherhood doesn't think their first attack is a knockout. If they do, and they commit everything, there isn't enough firepower here to survive. Having Nate out there would be a distraction. One I don't need.

I headed back to the ARD's main entrance, leaving a quarter of the Coursers to patrol the wing. No knowing if or when a squad would drop in behind us. Bombs stopped detonating and An utterly chaotic five minutes ensued. People were rushing around the facility, guards took their positions, and defenses were established. It wasn't long enough to do anything fancy. The more layers you add to your defense, the more you're prepared for, but the more moving parts you have. These people don't have the experience to deal with that, so simple will be best.

"Sir", X6-88 said from his spot, crouching a few meters from me near the ARD's entrance. "The BioScience division has made contact with armored Brotherhood of Steel soldiers."

"Understood." They don't have a competent commander, which means their only hope is to kill the intruders quickly. I don't know if Synths can panic, but I also doubt they have anything one could consider unit cohesion. Even with the little exposure I had to the Brotherhood, I saw they at least had rudimentary squad tactics.

And they learn quickly.

These are not battles you win.

The situation almost made me laugh. I'm fighting to defend the Institute, an organization I hate, from the Brotherhood, another organization I hate. Aside from needing the Institute's help to get back to my universe (a possibility that seems less and less likely), I have no dog in this fight.

Am I just fighting because I'm supposed to?

It didn't matter. I'm here now and if I don't stop the Brotherhood, I'm dead too.

As everything went still, I could just make out the subdued reports of laser weapons' fire. It was low volume but-

"There are also reports of Brotherhood soldiers in other parts of the facility", the Courser said.

Probably caught on surveillance equipment. "Cameras?"

"Yes."

"Whoever is monitoring them needs to watch for sabotage or explosives."

"Understood."

This was so dumb. How the hell are these people this poorly prepared? If I had organized-

Another brilliant white flash exploded outside the ARD wing's entrance and, as the blinding light cleared, I caught the unmistakable shape of T-60 power armor. There were at least a half dozen in the large adjoining room.

Then there was another flash.

And a third.

I had to assume that meant at least 18 targets. My left hand itched to hit the detonator I had clipped to my wrist. That's a lot of damage, but I can milk it for a little more if I do this right.

Squeezing myself into the doorframe I was using for cover, I propped the MK-18's handguard against it and sighted through the 1-6x scope Owens had fitted it with.

Pounding footsteps approached the door. It was narrow enough I had trouble fitting through. The Brotherhood soldiers in their much more primitive, and bulkier, armor would have to force their way through one by one. They wouldn't be dumb enough to do that under fire, so they'll probably employ-

Something flashed through the open door, a small cylinder maybe 8 centimeters long. They might look different here, but I know a flash bang when I see one.

"Cover!" I shouted, closing my eyes and ordering my visor to polarize. Even through the darkened display and my eyelids, I saw the blinding flash as the grenade went off.

As soon as the light was gone, my eyes were open and I was looking back through the scope. Time to see if these rounds are as good as Owens seemed to think.

The first Brotherhood soldier was doing their best to lumber through the door as quickly as they could. Another flash bang careened into the hall, but this time, as I was closing my eyes, I squeezed the rifle's trigger and sent a round into the center of the first attacker's helmet.

Once the second flash faded, I opened my eyes to see the soldier stumbling, but not dead. Huh, it hits hard, but not hard enough, apparently.

I put three more rounds into the soldier's helmet as quickly as the bolt would cycle. On the third impact, the soldier dropped to the ground. I didn't know if they were down for good, but the instant the doorway was clear, laser fire poured through. It was the same as what I saw from Danse's squad at the West Everett Estates: high volume suppression fire. The difference here is they couldn't advance while they did it. They would need a different tactic-

Bombs.

Can they drop bombs accurately enough to use them for egress?

Wait. Egress. If I wasn't in the middle of a gunfight I would have berated myself for being so stupid.

"X6-88", I shouted over the incoming laser fire, "what do they need to do to shut down the Molecular Relay."

"One moment", the still calm and emotionless response came.

It would trap the Institute down here for the time being, but if we cut off the Brotherhood's ability to put soldiers down here in the first place, this becomes a lot easier.

The incoming fire wasn't slackening, which meant they had no intention of advancing yet. "Everyone take cover from the hall, fire on my mark."

Slipping away from the door into the adjoining lab, I kept myself at an angle so I could fire through the it toward the entrance. X6-88's cover put him in the same lab and, as I glanced back at the Courser, he said, "understood", and met my gaze. "They are already considering its viability. Dr. Li is consulting with one of the technicians and will have an answer shortly."

I nodded. Patience then. I could feel my body aching to turn this into a real fight, to get a little payback for the ambush. It will happen soon enough, but if I want to do this right, I need to wait.

As if reading my thoughts, there was another blinding flash in the hall, but this one wasn't a flash bang. An instant later, the detonation shook the walls and it's roar drowned out everything but my own thoughts.

"Mark", I shouted over the ringing in my ears. I don't know if any of the Coursers could hear me, but hopefully the gunfire is a good enough signal.

Hugging the door frame again, I sighted down the hall just in time to see a pair of Brotherhood soldiers rushing forward, weapons at the ready. If this is how they were going to play, subtlety isn't going to cut it.

I dumped the rest of my first magazine into the front soldier. By the time I had swapped a fresh one in, the Coursers had joined me, peppering the two with blue laser fire.

My first target was slumping to the ground and the second one was trying to stop their momentum and take cover. With the distraction from the other gunfire, I took the extra instant I needed to line the shot up on the lense over their right eye and pulled the trigger.

It impacted in an explosion of shattered glass and the second soldier tumbled to the ground. Their momentum carried them forward and the armored corpse slammed into the wall with a dull thud.

A small smile spread across my face. I'd been right about that armor; they're going to have a hard time getting anything done in tight quarters like this. They can't flood the entrance with bodies, it's too tight and their power armor is too large and cumbersome. While our cover isn't perfect, they don't know our exact positions and, presumably, they can't place bombs in the adjoining rooms. If they could, they would have. Whether that's from lack of layout knowledge or accuracy doesn't matter at this point.

At least here, we're going to be at a stalemate until either they decide to saturate the entire area with explosives, or we shut the Relay down.

Fights like this are so aggravating, but the longer we stall, the better our odds.

"Report on the other positions", I whispered.

"There was an intrusion in the BioScience wing, but it was repelled", X6-88 replied. "Main living quarters are still secure. The Brotherhood of Steel seems to be limited in numbers."

That was good, but it didn't tell me anything. Their apparatus may be limited, or they may not want to commit too many resources to their first engagement.

Or both.

… Odd.

If their implementation of the relay was rudimentary enough to require limite use, why would they attack like this? If it wasn't, and they could insert as many as they wanted, why do it in such limited numbers?

Three explanations came to mind: testing, scouting, or intimidating. If Maxson has so little regard for his people, they could be doing all of them. And if that's the case, they're even more dangerous than I thought.

We needed to get this done. The Institute was already woefully unprepared for an intrusion, thinking their Relay network was safe with (seemingly) no guards in place. The Brotherhood knows it has an advantage now, and they're the type to press that advantage as far as they can. The only option is to hit back. Hard.

"Status on the Relay?"

"They believe they are close to a solution and have requested your presence", X6-88 said.

The fu- this better be good.

"Tell them I'm on my way."

I ducked into the lab and began making my way back to Li's office. The Courser had another detonator so if shit hit the fan, they'd at least be able to buy time.

When I arrived, Nate, Li, Porter, and Shaun were joined by another woman in a lab coat, looking over what looked like a large book. The ex-soldier and his son didn't look up as I entered the room.

"I think we have a way to stop the Brotherhood", Li said. "We need you to get to the main server which is at the center of the Molecular Relay banks."

My jaw tightened. "At the top of the Facility."

"Yes."

Great. They need me to fight all the way to the top of the Institute. The idea they don't have any sort of security, or something as simple as an emergency disconnect, is ridiculous.

"What do you need me to do there?"

Li must have noticed my irritation. "I agree, this is far from ideal, but we need to keep them from sending anything else." She turned to the other scientist. She was taller than Li, with long, dirty blond hair tied back, and sharp, angular features.

"The fastest way to do it is disconnect the main power from the relay", she waved me over to the table. The book they were studying looked like blueprints. It was a top down view of some form of server room with a dozen cabinets and containers ringing the circular enclosure. If these drawings were accurate, there was an absolute mess of cables and wires running from piece to piece.

"This", the technician said, pointing at one edge of the image, "is the entrance and the orientation you will see when you enter. If you walk around to the far side of the room", she traced her finger across the image, "you'll find a large power supply. It's a massive black box with several transformers inside. It's the largest piece of equipment in the room." Her finger moved to one side. "There is a 20 centimeter wide cable with a coupler attached here. Disconnect that, and the network shuts down."

"It will damage the power circuit, but we can repair that", Li said.

I squinted at the convoluted image. Turn it off? They want to turn it off.

"Disable your generator banks."

The technician shook her head. "Most systems here, including the relay, operate on backups. Those servers will stay active for at least a week."

So you design a way to keep it running, but not to shut it off. Fuck me.

"Alright", I said, "I'll have it off in five."

Nate opened his mouth but I cut him off before whatever he could say had a chance to come out. "I'm moving fast. I don't need you slowing me down. If you want to go to the front and help the Coursers defend it, be my guest."

The ex-soldier's face was red. "Hey asshole, you're making it real hard to want to play nice."

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm the one." Without waiting for a response, I left the office. The first thing I'll need to do is clear a way out of the ARD wing. I guess it's a good thing I didn't use my surprise.

When I reached the front, I briefed X6-88 on the plan.

"Will you require assistance?"

"No", I said, shaking my head. "Stay here, keep the Brotherhood out. They'll use my absence as an opportunity."

"Understood", the Courser said in a tone that could have been talking about potentially dying to the Brotherhood soldiers after I make my exit, or how boring living in this goddamn bunker is.

It's been quiet for five minutes. That means they're probably getting anxious.

Time to relieve that anxiety.

After waving the dozen coursers standing guard into cover, I slipped forward, ducking into a door about 10 meters from the entrance.

Definitely time for a little payback.

I grabbed the detonator still hanging from my left wrist, counted to three, and hit the firing stud.

Our little 'surprise' for the Brotherhood had been my take on their shrapnel bombs. The problem with theirs is the fragments went wherever they felt like, which not only reduced the concentration of projectiles, but also their individual energy. Directing your shrapnel with shaped charges is a much more effective kinetic energy delivery system.

Five charges ringing the cavernous room outside detonated with a thunderous boom. That boom drowned out thousands of supersonic cracks as the ball bearings were sent hurtling from the housing. It also drowned out the thwacks as they hit anything in their path. One probably wouldn't do much to a suit of T-60 armor, but a hundred in the right spots? Just like with the Brotherhood's charges, the explosives were kept to a minimum, at least trying to control the damage to the facility.

Immediately following the explosion, laser fire began spearing in all directions as the soldiers that survived the blast began retaliating against enemies that weren't there. Proctor Teagan's words rang true; there are a lot of fresh faces out there.

With the attackers in disarray, I darted from my cover, sprinted out the door, and made for the ramp to the Institute's common area.

My eyes took in the chaos as I raced by. There were almost two dozen Brotherhood soldiers outside the door, and close to half were down from the explosion. The other half were still recovering from their panic, but two found themselves blocking me from my exit.

The first didn't seem to register as I bore down on them. Turning and lowering my shoulder, a few meters from the soldier, I drove my feet into the steel floor and rammed into their chest. With how heavy that armor was, the impact jarred me, but it knocked the soldier onto their ass. As we landed, I rolled over top of them and back to my feet, barely breaking stride.

The second obstacle did notice me, raising the laser rifle cradled in the comically oversized mechanical manipulators. The soldier didn't get a chance to fire before I dropped to the ground in a slide, knocking their feet out from under them.

Before they crashed to the ground, I was sprinting down the ramp, toward the service elevator at the back of the common area that would take me to the top level with the Relay.

It seemed like, since the fighting had been concentrated in three areas, the Brotherhood forces had been drawn away from the central hub. There were no targets in the commons, and I had a free path to the elevator.

This would be the easy part: shutting off their potential resources and escape. The hard part would be clearing the bastards out once the Relay was off.

Worry about that when I get there.

Right.

The crossing was uneventful. Waiting for the elevator doors to ding open was painful, but they did so without incident.

Cramming myself into the lift, it began whisking me up to my current objective.

On the ride, my mind found itself drawn back to the events prior to the attack: bringing Nora's body back, Nate's reaction- his reaction to me. Then what Porter said. It's an amusing irony that, almost immediately after she tried to suggest I wanted to change, I go right back to doing what I'm meant to.

She'd said something to the effect of growing being about pushing through new challenges. Funny. It seems like I'm always being put back into the same old ones. And this time, it's for people I'd rather have nothing to do with.

Huh. Is that the difference? I think about who I'm doing the killing for now? Huge change when I'm still doing the killing isn't it?

The elevator began to slow and I shoved the thoughts away. This isn't time for thinking, it's time for action. I can worry about that jackass and his narcissistic son after the Brotherhood threat is dealt with.

I shoved myself to one side of the elevator, not that there was enough room to be out of the door's opening, and readied myself for a fight.

A few heartbeats later, the lift jolted to a stop, and it's doors silently whisked open-

Silence.

What the hell is going on? Did the Brotherhood come down here with no information on their target?

Nothing greeted me as I stepped out of the elevator, into the brightly lit, utterly sterile hall beyond. No armored soldiers, no traps, no bombs. The peace and quiet was… jarring. The rest of the facility was a battleground, but here…

This isn't an assault force, it's recon. They're scouting the Institute and probing their defenses.

If that's the case… I double timed to the Relay's server room. It's impossible to know what their timetable is, but the sooner I shut the teleportation system off, the less likely they are to get out.

A moment later, I found myself standing at the entrance to the server room. As the technician said, it was in the middle of the level, surrounded by the Relay stations we'd been using. The drawings they had shown me didn't do the room justice. It was large, easily 20 meters across, circular, and filled with machinery. The space that wasn't had cables and wires in it. There were a few dedicated walkways, but they were made for a regular sized person, not a SPARTAN in MJOLNIR armor.

And of course, the power cable was on the opposite side of the goddamn room.

Complaining wasn't going to detach the cable, so I ducked into the equipment crowded room and began making my way toward the objective. The dedicated walkways were so tight, even turning sideways I was barely able to squeeze through hunched over. Most of the time, I was scraping against something, or a cable was snagging on my armor.

A minute of appreciation for not being claustrophobic later, I made it to the designated piece of equipment. It was a large, black box, a half meter taller than me and twice as wide. The power cable was massive, almost as large around as my leg, and terminated in a large, twist lock coupling on the black box.

I'm supposed to detach this thing while energized. I'm not an electrician, but a cable that large would have a lot of current running through it. I've blown main building lines smaller than that.

That's a really bad idea. My armor is insulated but… I don't think anything is that insulated.

Just get it over with…

Right, just get my electrocution over with.

I grasped both sides of the coupling and, even with the catalog of stupid things I've done in the past, I hesitated. If the current running through this decides to ground itself out through me, saying I don't have a chance at surviving would be an understatement. I'd be a briquette. And I'm doing this to protect the Institute? What the hell is wrong with me?

What I have to if I want to survive.

The thought wasn't comforting. I've had to do plenty to survive, voluntarily electrocuting myself wasn't one of them.

First times and all that. I took a deep breath, and then another.

After the third, and beginning to get annoyed with my own hesitation, I said to hell with it. With a hard twist, I turned the coupling as far as it would go and wrenched it from the housing.

Electricity arced between the two for an instant as they separated. Hard. The flash was brighter than the one actually teleporting produces and, even through my visor, rendered me blind.

Oh shit.

I dropped the cable and stumbled backward as I heard the high pitched crackling of arcs stab at my shields. I couldn't see the charge bar, but the status alarm began blaring in my helmet.

The urge- the need to get the hell out of there, to get away from the stabbing lines of electricity overrode almost every other thought in my head. I could feel the arcs of energy spearing into my arms, my chest- I've seen what it looks like when someone gets fried. I do not want to do that.

My back slammed into something solid and I-

Breathe. I'm not dead, and I'm not being electrocuted.

I'm not being- I realized the arcs weren't dancing around my armor. Had they been after I dropped the cable? When did it stop?

In through my nose, out through my mouth.

Relax.

Slowly, my vision began clearing, and I saw the massive cable laying on the ground a meter in front of my armored boots. Smoke was wafting up from my arms, and the energy bar for my shields was flashing red.

I'm not doing that again.

Careful to avoid the cable, I began picking my way back to the door. I couldn't hide the slight tremor in my hands, the feeling of adrenaline flushing through my arms, or my heart trying to pound out of my chest. I need to get myself back under control. This isn't how I should be behaving in an active combat zone.

Gently shaking out my arms, breathing deep, and pushing everything besides the fight out of my mind, I stopped at the door and peered through. The hall outside was still clear, but I'd have to be careful taking the elevator back down. Hmm, I didn't think about that on the way up. The Brotherhood knows I'm here, so they'll be eager to eliminate me. If they think I might come back down, they'll have an ambush set up there.

My mind flashed to the large, glass tube in the center of the commons. It was damn near impossible to see in it from the outside, and if they're focused on the service elevator…

A plan began forming in my head as I ran through the painfully white halls toward the small service lift. I'd have to backtrack to the main Relay room before heading to the main elevator. It would be… around 30 seconds. That could work.

Sliding to a stop in front of the service elevator doors, I keyed them open before reaching in and pressing the button for the main commons.

With those doors sliding shut again, I sprinted back up the hall and re-entered the ring of teleportation rooms before heading toward the central glass tube. Thankfully, the small, circular platform was already there when I arrived.

It must have sensed my presence as I stepped in because the glass partition slid closed and it began descending into the Institute.

Now things are about to get interesting.

There's no exit for this on the floor of the main common, and if I wait to get all the way to the bottom, the Brotherhood soldiers will realize something is up. That empty elevator will only hold their attention for so long.

Running the layout of the cavernous hub of the Institute, I pictured the several pathways and overlooks criss-crossing the room. I didn't want to be too far up but…

The large loft hanging a few meters over the ground floor where I found Nate and Porter eating after my meeting with Li. That would be large enough to provide cover and maneuver, but close enough to the bottom floor, I wouldn't have any trouble jumping down. The only question now is how upset will they be with me for ruining the architectural centerpiece of their commons.

I smiled.

When the elevator emerged into the massive cylindrical room, I searched the ground floor for potential contacts. As expected, a half dozen T-60 armored soldiers were standing at the service elevator a few 30 meters below, waiting for me to exit.

Unfortunately for them, their initiative wasn't going to be rewarded.

Watching as the elevator arrived, the Brotherhood invaders poured laser fire into the small opening. That gave me maybe 10 seconds before they figured out I was playing them.

The platform was floating down through the glass tube painfully slowly, but I was well within firing range here.

Wait. Get closer. Make the jump easier.

The loft I was looking for was about 180 degrees from where the Brotherhood soldiers were, and still 20 meters below me. That fall certainly wouldn't be harmful, but it would slow me down.

Seconds ticked by in my head as I sighted on the back of the first soldier's neck. They were cautiously inching toward the elevator. If I didn't know better, I'd say they might be scared.

Five seconds.

The terrace was still a dozen meters below me.

My target neared the doors.

Two seconds.

No more time.

I squeezed the trigger and the high powered rifle kicked a round through the glass surrounding me with what would have been an eardrum shattering roar. It slammed into the soldier, sending them stumbling forward, but I wasn't stupid enough to think they were down. I put three more shots into the same area before switching to the second target: another soldier, this one already searching for where the new source of gunfire was.

Five rounds into them, and the rifle was almost empty.

Time to go.

Twisting, I put the final two rounds into the glass behind me, directly over my landing zone, and lunged through the weakened glass.

As expected, it had been reinforced tempered safety glass, and as I collided with it the impact jarred my shoulder. The two high caliber rounds had damaged it enough for me to shatter the tube and the next instant I was dropping down to the terrace.

The glass had been a little sturdier than I thought, and I was rotating too far to land properly. I couldn't afford to waste time here.

Laserfire exploded into the air, one of the bolts catching me in the back as I pulled one knee into my chest to correct my fall.

The steel floor rushed up to meet me. My titanium clad boots came down with a deep boom and I rolled to dissipate some of the landing's energy.

More red bolts screamed overhead as I flattened myself to the deck and loaded a fresh magazine.

Best case, four left, most likely more.

These ones didn't matter though. The primary objective now is to secure key locations, then eliminate the threat. If I can disable a few for interrogation, even better.

First stop would be the ARD wing again. Leadership is there and, as much as I want to put Nate on his ass, so is he. And they had the smallest guard contingent.

I got my feet under me and sprung for the edge of the platform, pulling the MK-18 up to my shoulder and firing off a trio of high velocity rounds at the nearest soldier. All three slammed into the thick chest plate of the T-60 power armor. It probably wasn't going to dig through that, but it would give the group something to think about.

Dropping over the edge, I hit the ground floor with another boom before sprinting down a walkway, between several decorative planters. I vaulted over a rail to another walkway and sprang for the door that led to the ARD wing, more laser fire chasing me through the opening.

As I left the cavernous main commons, the sounds of laser fire drifted toward me from ahead. It sounded more muffled than it should.

They made it into the ARD.

Shit.

I redoubled my efforts, driving my titanium armored boots into the steel floor so hard they began slipping on the smooth surface.

I can't let the goddamn Brotherhood take this too.

An instant later, I arrived at the ramp and-

I sprung to my left as a pair of laser bolts lanced toward me, slamming into the wall. They passed over my shoulder and I snapped my own weapon up and opened fire.

Rear guard.

Five rounds later, one intruder at the top of the ramp was crumpling to the ground, one of their lenses blown out. The other continued firing, sending a half dozen bolts searing into my shields.

The MK-18 spat the last two rounds out of its magazine before the bolt locked back. Both slammed into my target's head, snapping it backward and giving me the split second I needed to lunge across the 10 meters separating us.

My victim tried to take a lumbering swing at me, but they might as well have been moving through molasses. I caught their arm, twisting it hard enough to make the servos in the power armor groan, and kicked their left leg out.

We both dropped to the ground, me on top. Releasing their arm, I drove my knee into the center of their back, grabbed the helmet, and wrenched it to the side.

I felt more than heard the series of cracks as their spine snapped.

Giving the raised platform a quick scan, a dozen other Brotherhood soldiers lay dead. Some looked like they had died in the explosion, and a few had scorch marks from laser fire. That left at least 10 of them inside the ARD.

Sliding another fresh magazine into my rifle as I approached the door, I could hear the fighting from deep inside the wing. The Coursers had fallen back, apparently.

Inside the entrance, four of the elite Synth fighters lay in the hall, all riddled with laser rifle fire. Another two Brotherhood soldiers were down as well, but that was worrying. There had only been 15 Coursers here to guard the entrance. At least four of them down…

Move.

With nothing else in the hall, I slipped into the wing and began making my way toward the fighting.

… Odd. The sound of laser fire wasn't coming from the direction of the offices where the others were taking cover. Had the Coursers purposely led them away from their charges? If that's the case… maybe I wasn't giving them enough credit either.

I ran down a hall with labs lining both sides, doing my best to keep my footsteps silent. The impact deadening soles of my boots helped, but it's hard to produce no noise when you're in almost half a ton of armor. Running on metal.

The sounds of fighting had me taking several turns through the white washed halls which were now scored with the signs of gunfire. The place wasn't hard to navigate, it was just large, and full of workshops and labs. On top of that, I was wary of getting ambushed by another rear guard after the first time, so my pace wasn't at the level of urgency I wanted.

Finally, I rounded the last corner and found the gunfight. The Brotherhood soldiers had funneled the remaining defenders into a lab. Or maybe they took position in the lab- I don't know, but it looked like they'd fought to another stalemate. I hadn't seen any bodies along the way, but that didn't mean anything. There were seven of the intruders in the hall, three crouched on either side of the door, one at the back taking cover half in an adjoining room. Probably the squad lead or platoon commander (if the Brotherhood have that sort of structure). No rear guard.

This was perfect.

They don't know I'm here, they're in extremely close quarters, and that armor is exceedingly cumbersome. That is the dream for any SPARTAN.

The Coursers knew what they were doing then; they purposely led them to another chokepoint, knowing it would be difficult to make egress with that armor. The Brotherhood's reliance on the limited equipment was a weakness they were exploiting.

I slowed my pace, slipping down the hall silently, and pulled my knife from its sheath. The hardened Titanium A blade could dig through damn near anything if you put enough force behind it.

Creeping up behind the commander, I buried the knife into the side of their neck, jamming it between the armored joints.

With a gurgling screech barely audible over the weapons' fire, my first victim collapsed to the steel floor with a thud.

The closest soldier heard the sound of their comrade dying, and turned to me as I extracted the knife. They began bringing their laser rifle around, but I was already moving. I lunged forward again, grabbing the wrist with my right hand, and whipped my right leg over their arm.

Twisting violently, I pulled them to the ground and locked the soldier in an arm bar. I could feel the joints and motors straining as I pulled on their wrist, but I didn't have time to break it with the other Brotherhood soldiers noticing my presence.

So instead I stabbed my knife into their elbow and, with a scream, the joint snapped.

I didn't wait to see what the other soldiers were going to do. I leapt from the ground and sprung for my next target, placing them between myself and the others.

This one was smarter. Instead of trying to use the laser rifle, they jumped forward to meet my charge. Our combined momentum slammed us into the steel wall, leaving a shallow impression.

The Brotherhood soldier grabbed my right forearm and, bracing, pinned it to the wall. I slammed my left hand into the side of their helmet in an open palmed strike. The blow would have been enough to cave the side of their head in, but with the thick steel bucket in the way, it only snapped sideways.

Their grip loosened for a moment, but before I could take advantage of it, another armored soldier lunged forward, grabbing my left forearm.

Instead of fighting me head on, these soldiers were trying to pin me.

I forced my arm straight up in the air, turning it so my palm faced out and balled my hand into a fist. The other soldier was trying desperately to gain control of the limb, but it's hard when you're grabbing metal on metal.

With a violent twist, I turned my arm so my palm was facing me again, and at the same time, wrenched downwards. The maneuver broke it free and the Brotherhood soldier scrambled to maintain balance. I kicked their left leg out from under them, sending their ungainly armored form crashing to the floor.

That one off of me, I slammed my fist into the side of the other's helmet again, and then a third time. With that strike, the soldier's grip loosened as they sagged, probably barely hanging on to consciousness. I pulled my arm-

A loud screech sounded and I was slammed into the wall, the other soldier's arms wrapped around my chest.

Bringing my free arm around, I drove my elbow into their helmet with a resounding clang. But they didn't let go. That wasn't good. If the other soldiers-

Laser fire stabbed into the side of the soldier still clinging to my right arm. After a dozen impacts, the armored figure flinched before reeling away, a smoking hole in the side of their chest plate.

Another leapt forward to take their place, but I dropped my weight and the remaining soldier and I collapsed to the steel floor.

The maneuver bought me just enough room to pull my leg up between us and jam my knee into the soldier's chest plate. With a hard twist, pushing against the attacker, and ramming an elbow into their head again, I dislodged the Brotherhood soldier and sent them tumbling back into the opposite wall.

I couldn't stop. I felt more than saw the other intruder bearing down on me. Rolling to the side, I launched myself away from the contingent of soldiers.

As I sprung to my feet, I saw the two Brotherhood members chasing toward me, laser fire from both sides increasing in volume. I was on my own for now.

Snapping my rifle up, I managed to get off two shots that slammed into the front soldier's chest before they were on me. The hall was too narrow to dodge both. Instead, I dropped into a crouch and drove my left shoulder into the first one's waist. They tumbled over me to the ground in a heap, but the second was ready.

The soldier swung at my head with one of it's manipulators. I shunted the blow aside and stepped away from a second. On the third I blocked their arm into the wall. That bought me enough time to bury the muzzle of the MK-18 in the soldier's neck and pull the trigger twice.

Their partner dropping to the ground, the other soldier tried to backpedal down the hall, bringing a laser rifle to bear.

Two bolts seared into my shield as I lunged forward, knocking the weapon aside, and drove my shoulder into their chest. My opponent left their feet, careening backward before slamming to the steel floor with a thud.

I didn't give them time to recover.

While the soldier was trying to gather their feet again, I rushed forward, aimed the high powered rifle at the lense over their right eye, and blew the glass out with a deafening boom.

Now for the rest.

Within 10 seconds, the rest of the Brotherhood soldiers were down. The only one left alive was the soldier whose elbow I'd snapped in half.

After a brief second check to make sure the threats were neutralized, I called, "clear." The Coursers began extricating themselves from their cover as I stalked over to the still writhing armored form.

"You son of a-" the soldier, a man, grated out through the armor's distorted speaker system. I ignored him and flipped the intruder onto his stomach, exposing the small wheel on the suit's back.

Twisting the wheel, the panels on the back of the armor opened. I grabbed the man's skin tight orange and white jumpsuit, and pulled him from the armor. I wasn't gentle about it. The Brotherhood soldier cried out in pain and, as soon as I released him, collapsed to the floor, left arm folding awkwardly under him.

I looked over at the Coursers. "One of you, take him somewhere secure, the rest with me."

As one, X2-17, moved aside to handle the prisoner, I led the rest of the Coursers back toward the ARD's entrance. With their escape cut off and no more reinforcements, or bombs, on the way, it should be a short cleanup. We needed to do it quickly too. If any of these bastards had explosives, and realized they were stuck, they'd detonate. No point in risking more damage.

X

The rest of the fighting only took another 15 minutes. With the element of surprise gone, and dwindling numbers, the Brotherhood soldiers didn't hold up well as their forces were ambushed from behind. The platoon assaulting the living quarters had already been whittled down. We just finished the job.

Once that was done, I left the Synth guards to hold position and took the remaining Coursers to do the same thing to the invaders attacking the BioScience wing. They had found more success, breaching the entrance to the division, and the signs of a firefight were obvious enough inside. The dozens of small scorch marks on the walls, as well as the 15 dead bodies, mostly Synth, but a few were in T-60 armor.

From the looks of it, the guards had forced the Brotherhood soldiers back out by weight of numbers. An… interesting tactic that would have gotten them all killed against a larger assault.

None of that mattered at the moment though. Most of the intruders were dead, and the few that weren't were secure. There would be plenty of time to interrogate them once the rest of the facility was swept and secure. Some soldiers may have escaped, or left some unwelcome surprises.

Leaving the Coursers and Synths to police the bodies, weapons, and lone prisoner at the BioScience division, I began back toward the ARD wing. They need to begin coordinating the search, and I don't trust them to do it correctly.

The Institute was a mess. More than 20 explosives detonated, I didn't know the count for sure, but well over 100 dead between the scientists, Synths, and Brotherhood, and who knows what is waiting for us in the abandoned areas. All because they didn't see the need to properly secure their teleportation system. Even after Nate and I used it to get in; granted Shaun wanted that to happen.

My initial assessment of the Institute had been correct: they're woefully unprepared for a full scale war with the Brotherhood. That meant Nate and I were here, or at least Nate was, to provide strategic and tactical support.

As I trudged up the ramp to the Advanced Research Division, I heard a half dozen Synth guards marching behind me.

They were holding their weapons at the ready, and even through their helmets, I could feel their eyes fixed on me.

You're shitting me.

"Please come with us", the lead one said in that odd, distorted voice. "Father would like to consult with you."

I cocked an eyebrow behind my visor. That hadn't been exactly what I expected. It was where I'd been headed anyway.

"Okay."

I followed them the rest of the way up the ramp and into the research wing. The dead Coursers had been cleared away, and several Synths were struggling to drag the Brotherhood corpses off to the side. With the non-combatants still holding up in the living quarter, the place was eerily quiet.

After weaving our way through the antiseptic, white washed halls, we arrived at Dr. Li's office, again. Inside were the same four, joined by Ayo.

Great.

"Damon", Shaun beckoned, voice and expression both carefully neutral once again. "I'd like to discuss a few important matters with you following this attack." I motioned for him to continue. The Institute leader glanced at Nate. For his part, the ex-soldier didn't seem to know what to think.

"This invasion of our home is not something we take lightly. You two are the only ones who have breached our Molecular Relay network, albeit with help." His tone changed for an instant, carrying an implication everyone in here already knew: we used the Railroad. "So I must ask: were you involved in this attack?"

After the instant it took for my mind to process the question- the idea I would work with the Brotherhood- I scoffed. "No."

"You understand how it could look, from an outside perspective, like you do."

And from an outside perspective, what you do is no better than the Brotherhood. At least they don't kidnap random people.

"There's nothing I can say that will convince you." I shrugged. "And you still need me."

"Do not underestimate our ability to adapt", Shaun said. "And there is something you can do to convince me: tell me who you really are."

I blinked. Tell you who I really am? You haven't earned that right. "No."

"Goddammit", Nate said before his son could continue. "Have you ever thought about being cooperative? Maybe getting over your ego?"

Me ego? "What are you talking about?" I snapped.

"Don't bullshit me Damon, I know exactly what just went through your head: 'I don't trust you, so why would I tell you?' You'd tell them because you need them." He threw his hands up. "What are they gonna do with it? Why does it matter who knows?"

Silence settled over the office, Nate and I staring each other down while the others looked on.

Why does it matter? It matters because- My mind drew a blank. Why does it matter? I know there's a reason, probably some UNSC regulation about imparting classified information to an unknown entity. But that's in my universe. And even if I tell them, it isn't like the Institute can do anything with the information.

There was something else in Nate's eyes too. It wasn't just irritation and frustration. They almost looked like they were pleading with me.

"You need their help, Damon", the ex-soldier repeated, a hint of softness breaking the edge on his voice. "And they need yours."

Maybe- maybe if he had said that before his diatribe earlier, essentially telling me to get fucked, that line would have worked. But now? After that? How am I supposed to trust him?

I'm not. I'm supposed to do what I have to to get back to the UNSC. The Institute is my best shot.

Right. The UNSC. My duty. Even with that being the case, cooperating with these people, caving to the ex-soldier now- it felt wrong.

Maybe he was right about setting my ego aside then.

Setting my ego aside? I don't do this because of ego, I do it to stay safe.

That too. Look how well that's worked out. How does keeping that information secret keep me safe?

It gives them leverage.

And it's leverage they have, whether they know it now or not. I already have something they desperately need anyway. This sounds a lot like me not wanting to tell them.

So what if-

Because it gets in the way of the mission. Isn't that what I was stewing about earlier? That maybe 'the mission' is what I really am? Doesn't seem like it right now.

…

…

…

Fine.

"I'm not from this universe", I said, breaking the silence once again. "And I need your help getting back to mine." My eyes never left the ex-soldier.

There it was, the end goal all along. Sure, I've kept Nate alive. Yeah, I saved Preston's group and helped establish Sanctuary. I've even wiped out some Raider gangs along the way, saved a few more people including Cassandra and Thomas, and given the Railroad new resources.

But at the end of it all, I'm doing everything so I can get back to the UNSC. I'm doing it all for duty.

I saved Preston's group to get information.

I kept them alive because I needed a place to recover.

I brought Nate along because I needed his help.

I cooperated with the Brotherhood because I needed their resources.

I saved the kids because we happened to be in that town to wipe out the Supermutants.

I gave the Railroad the Courser chip so they would build a teleporter.

And now I'm at the Institute, helping them despite how revolting their practices are because they're my best chance at getting back to the UNSC.

Sure, there have been a few detours along the way: wiping out the Forged, trying to get Julian while the Brotherhood took him, promising to help Sanctuary with the Gunners. Maybe I've started taking some sort of autonomy. Even still, those things were around my primary objectives; actions I took to fill the time. I killed the Forged because I was bored for fuck's sake.

Yes, there are people I care about here. People I want to help. But I'm leaving. I've always known I was leaving, and when I do, whatever forces that keep this world a living, breathing hell would probably undo any good I did for them. Had I just been fooling myself? Whatever happened, I'd be doing it to make myself feel good, because at the end of the day-

Images of the wasteland above flashed through my head. The barren landscape. The destroyed city. Raiders. Gunners. The Brotherhood. The Institute.

No matter who I help, it will probably all go back to the way it was before I got here. The only difference is I might feel a little better about myself.

I almost laughed. Right, because I'm someone who needs- who deserves that.

What good is that going to do these people? How is that going to keep Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian safe? How is that going to keep Sanctuary from falling to whatever opportunistic group comes next? I do a few small things and leave, what difference does that make? If I don't make any lasting change- if I'm leaving and I don't fix what's broken in the first place, it's just window dressing on a house fire.

That's what Nate had been accusing me of back in that surgical suite. It was something I've been hiding from this entire time, pretending I'd changed.

Everything I've done, I've done for the same reason I've always done anything: because I'm supposed to.

There. I admitted it Nate. You happy? I straightened my back and switched my gaze to Shaun.

That's what I am. A high mobility small arms platform. And I do what I do because it's my duty.

…

Nothing more.

Notes:

Okay, so elephant in the room. I haven't posted in a while. Tbh, it's mostly motivation. I've had a difficult few months but that's no excuse. I have the things written, I need to be posting. With that in mind, I've arranged a little something. I'll see you next time.

Chapter 31: ... Is Paved With Good Intentions

Notes:

Hellooooo! Welcome back everyone! We're here with another episode of intertwined insanity! These last few chapters have been difficult to write, mostly because I've tried to do the situations involved justice. Things are complicated, and it's been difficult to keep things relatively balanced. This is a chapter I've had planned for a very, very long time, and writing it was a bit surreal. But it's here, and things are about to get interesting. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined, I always appreciate feedback, and as always, enjoy!

By the time I left the office, I was so tired of answering, or avoiding, questions if no one asked me anything again, I think I'd be alright with that. Everything from who I am, to what I am, my universe, what it's like, how I got here, and anything else they could imagine on the spot.

Ayo had spent the entire time skeptical, but out of everyone there, he's the person I least concerned myself with. Most of his questions were about me. If I didn't outright ignore him, I gave ONI's stock answer for anything about IIs or IIIs: 'classified'. It got to the point he actually tried to physically approach me. Despite everything, I was mentally egging him on, hoping he'd give me a reason. Nate was smart enough to know I'd probably break the man in half, so he held him back, much to the SRD leader's irritation.

You should be thanking him.

I didn't give a damn. Nate, Ayo, Shaun, the Institute- whatever. I'm here because I need their help getting back to the UNSC. That's all. Nate found his son, he has his wife's body, he doesn't need me anymore. I don't know how long it will take the eggheads here to figure out if they can send me back, but it probably won't be long enough to make any appreciable change to the Commonwealth. I still intend to help Preston with his Gunner problem, but that's only postponing the inevitable.

Did it suck? Yeah, but my duty is to the UNSC, however much they and ONI have taken from me. Between the Brotherhood and the Institute, whoever wins that fight, the Commonwealth is probably screwed. The Brotherhood will turn it into their base of operations, exploiting people and resources. I've seen it in plenty of larger insurrectionist bases. The Institute will continue treating it like a petri dish, snatching and using whoever they want, whenever they want. I've personally experienced that one.

If I had to put money on who would win, it's the Brotherhood; they've got more practical knowledge, more resources and equipment, more people, and more maneuverability. Hell, if I hadn't been here, the small recon force they sent in had more than a chance of doing the job themselves. Nate doesn't have the experience or skill to help them the way they want- they need.

Doesn't matter. I'll do whatever they need me to in return for getting me back to the UNSC and that would be that.

It's my job.

The Coursers and Synth guards were still performing a sweep, looking for any surprises before allowing the residents to return to the labs. It would take a few hours, but Li already had the technician I'd talked with and a small team up at the Molecular Relay repairing it. I guess they want to get back up and running quickly. For what, I don't know.

Hopefully they'll put a fail safe system in place this time so it isn't as easy to infiltrate the goddamn facility.

I, again, didn't have anything to do. Ayo made it clear he didn't want me involved in the interrogation of the four living Brotherhood soldiers. Fine by me. They won't get all of the information they need, hard to when you don't know what questions to ask, but I only need this place around long enough to get me back to my universe.

So I meandered my way back to the room. It had only been three days since I was here last, but ducking through the door… everything felt different. It was almost like returning to Diamond City after killing Kellogg, after remembering the Covenant attack. Things… didn't quite seem real.

A wave of fatigue hit me as I looked around the main living space: couch, coffee table, small kitchen, dining table. Everything was clean, orderly. This was normal, I'd seen this a million times, even in the poorest neighborhoods back in UNSC space. Here though?

My mind flashed back to Sanctuary. They'd kill for this to be normal living accommodations.

I shook my head. There's nothing I can do about that. The only people who have it are the Institute and they're clearly not the sharing type.

Sitting against the wall, opposite the apartment's front door, I pulled the MK-18 across my lap and allowed my eyes to drift closed. I'm here, at the Institute. This nightmare is almost over. Once it is, I can get back to doing what I do best.

And that sure as hell isn't caring.

A soft whoosh snapped me to full alert, rifle in hand, sights trained on the door as it slid open.

Nate stood in the hall, staring at me with tired eyes.

Lowering the rifle, I checked the clock in my HUD. 1845.

Huh. I'd been asleep for five hours.

The ex-soldier didn't move, but his expression grew a little less tired and a little more irritated.

Yeah, because I need this again. I leaned my head back against the wall, pointedly breaking eye contact.

But I still felt him staring at me.

"Do you ever consider being a little more cooperative?" he asked.

I didn't respond. It wouldn't go anywhere. He's here to argue- he can argue with himself.

"I just spent two and a half hours trying to convince them to help you."

Why? You already said you don't care anymore. Don't waste your breath.

"Hey!", he barked, marching over to stare down at me. "Do you think I like the sound of my own voice?"

Yes.

He kicked at my left foot. "This is what regular people call a goddamn conversation, Damon."

What the hell do you think you're doing? I met his gaze before looking from his foot, to my armored boot and back.

"Don't touch me again."

The smaller man scoffed. "Right. Of course. You have a problem, something you don't like, just threaten it into submission."

"I don't normally bother with threats." I left the rest of the statement unsaid.

"Like I said, maybe you should consider being a little more diplomatic", Nate retorted, shaking his head.

I let out a low, mocking laugh. "That is me being diplomatic."

"You know what I mean."

"Oh? This is me, Nate. I'm not diplomatic. I'm a weapon. I shoot things. You said it yourself." I cocked my head. "Or have you already forgotten this morning?"

The ex-soldier's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? You're pouting?"

Resting my head against the steel wall again, I shrugged. "You're right, aren't you? It's what you've been telling me all along, every time you've complained about me killing someone."

"Yes, I'm right. Look at what you've done since coming here. How many people would you say you've killed?"

I shrugged again. "Never kept count."

He shook his head. "Of course you didn't. 'Just another body'."

My temper flared. "I thought it was different, Nate. I thought I was doing things for a different reason. Nora wasn't just another body. I thought I did that because it meant something to you. Because she was important to you." I climbed to my feet, forcing the smaller man to step back, and leveled my voice off. "But at the end of the day, you're right: that was something I had to do to regain Shaun's trust, just like everything else I've done to get here. Maybe I thought I was doing it for some other purpose, because I wanted to. Even if that is the case though, I'm leaving, and things are going to go back to the way they were. I used everyone to get here, including you."

Nate's eyes narrowed. "That isn't-"

"Don't pretend you're any different from me though." I leaned down so we were face to face. "You used me too, someone you think is a monster. Someone who kills people because it's the easiest way to do something. You used the Brotherhood. You used Virgil. You used the Railroad. Everything you did, everyone you used, you did it to get here. The only difference is I'm doing it because I was trained to. You're doing it for a son that's already dead."

"Fuck you", he hissed.

I smiled behind my visor. It wasn't friendly. "The same way I don't get here without you, you die before you make it to Diamond City without me. You're no different from the UNSC to me; you're here, you have your son back, and since you know I'll be gone sooner or later, you're tossing me to the side, like everyone else. Just like now you're here, you'll forget about everyone else who helped us along the way." I straightened. "You don't care about anything but yourself. You tell me to put my ego to the side? Funny."

The smaller man was trembling with rage. His face was red, his hands balled into fists, eyes locked onto my visor burning with a hatred I'd only seen from him once.

Good.

"You motherfucker", he whispered. "At least I'm staying. At least I'm not running away while things are still a shitshow here. At least I have the chance of making things better. Better for Sanctuary, for Cass, for Thomas, for Julian. Maybe even for the whole Commonwealth. We're nothing alike. I don't just file away the people I kill as 'obstacles'."

I laughed again, louder this time. "You think you're going to change a goddamn thing here? The Institute- the fucking Institute is going to help anyone else? The people who kidnap and experiment on innocent civilians because they think of them as inferior?" I cocked my head at the smaller man. "You're in bed with a monster. More of a monster than I've ever been. All because your son is the head of that monster."

Nate looked about ready to explode. "You have no clue how it feels to lose everything- no clue-" He froze, mouth open as he realized who he was talking to.

"Uh huh." I nodded. "Funny how that works. Justifying, cosigning what he does because he's important to you. Just bodies on the pile, right? Like I said: just. Like. Me."

A moment of silence followed the declaration as the smaller man stared up at me. His eyes were so wide they looked like they'd pop out of his head, his hands were still balled so tight, I could almost see the muscles straining, the tendons in his neck stood out stark through his tanned skin. The ex-soldier's body language was so obvious he might as well have been telling me what was about to happen.

My arm was moving almost before his. As my former companion began swinging a fist at me, my hand collided with his wrist hard enough I heard the crack of the bones against my titanium gauntlet. He grabbed his wrist, some of the fury on his face replaced by pain.

"I told you not to touch me again." His eyes flashed with renewed anger, but I didn't care. This isn't a fight he can win. "Better get used to being a monster, Nate. You'll have to if you want to stay with the Institute. You won't change what happens here, and you won't fix anything in the Commonwealth."

There was nothing more for me to say, and I had no interest in continuing the conversation. I began toward the door and, as it slid open, I said over my shoulder, "welcome to the club."

I left Nate to himself. Did I mean everything I said…?

Yeah- yeah I think so. Was it strictly true he'd used me, that despite everything he's said, he was more concerned with finding Shaun than anything else? For the most part I think that's fair. He definitely seems more okay with what they do, as reprehensible as it is, than he should be. But hey, he wants to spend as much time as he can with Shaun. If the only way he can do that is to justify what the Institute does, that's his prerogative. It won't be my problem for long.

There was plenty of activity around the glorified fallout shelter. The Synths had apparently finished their sweep and, satisfied no traps were lying in wait, allowed the residents to return to their labs. After what I'd seen, I wasn't confident they wouldn't have missed plastic explosives wired to every door in this place.

Even the portions of the facility that hadn't been impacted by the fighting were in rough shape from the bombs they'd detonated prior to infiltrating. I didn't get a count of the bodies, but considering the charges they were using, it was a safe bet to think a lot of non-combatants were killed.

Maxson is ruthless, and he'll do anything he can to win. He's already proven that on multiple occasions. Beating the Brotherhood is going to take fighting dirty.

Key areas of the Institute were cordoned off by guards and, while they didn't physically dissuade me, whatever they're doing to fix the damage is their job, not mine.

I ended up in the commons, standing off toward the service elevator, watching the bustling scientists and technicians hurry frantically around the room. There was no order to their actions, no methodology. These people have only ever been concerned with R&D. That changed big time today.

It was close to 2100 when X6-88 detached himself from the deluge of people and drifted over to me.

"The leadership is having a joint session they request you attend", the dark skinned Courser said in his customary flat tone.

Took them long enough.

I nodded and the Synth beckoned for me to follow. He led me through the throng and back into the winding maze of corridors before we arrived at the same conference room we'd first been introduced to the leadership in. All of the same people were there except Li: Nate, Shaun, Ayo, Holdren, Fillmore. Each of them were staring at me. Except for Nate. His eyes were on the steel floor between his feet. I don't know if it was because of what I said, or something else, but the ex-soldier made a point not to meet my gaze as I entered.

Oh how things can change in a little over a week.

"Damon", the Institute leader said as I stopped at the end of the large, white conference table, "I would like to start by apologizing for my earlier attitude. I hope you can understand how your conduct prior to the attack would leave us suspicious."

This sounded like one of the placating speeches I got from senior officers on the rare occasions I had the displeasure of interacting with them.

"I also believe it is proper to extend our sincerest thanks for your efforts repelling the Brotherhood assault. If doctor Li were not consumed by the facility repairs, she would also-"

I waved the old man off. "I don't care about gratitude. I care about what you do next: are you going to help me, and what do you want from me for that help."

Shaun looked around the room at the three present division leaders. They all looked… uncomfortable, even Ayo. That was impossible to read into. They could be uneasy for any number of reasons, from being exposed to a fight for the first time, to the knowledge the Brotherhood had infiltrated their systems, or the damage to the Institute.

"Yes", Nate's son said, "we will help you, as long as you assist us in our fight against the Brotherhood of Steel."

As expected.

"In what capacity?"

"I believe you made your point clear enough during the initial stage of the attack: we are unprepared for combat on this scale. Our units are capable fighters, but we need to develop our strategies to use them appropriately. If we are to protect ourselves and rid the Commonwealth of the Brotherhood of Steel, we will need to make significant changes to how we deploy them."

He didn't need to say anything, I already knew what they'd want, but I need to understand if they appreciate how outclassed they are.

"You want me to organize your war efforts. Strategic, tactical, and logistical planning."

Shaun nodded. "We also have my father's experience to rely on, but you seem to have more knowledge about the specific types of combat we will engage in."

My gaze switched from the older man to his father, who still refused to meet it.

"If I'm going to do this, it's my command. Multiple people in charge of a task force ends with everyone dead."

"I understand. We have all agreed the authority for this endeavor will fall to you. My father is there to assist as needed. Anything and everything you need is at your disposal, I only ask you involve myself and Dr. Ayo in your planning and decision making."

As the Institute leader spoke, my eyes never left Nate. Would he actually accept an advisory role? One I wouldn't use much? Hell, the only value he'd add is, potentially, as a field commander. But he wasn't one while he served. He'd been a grunt. I'm sure he picked plenty up over the course of almost two decades of service, but there's a difference between seeing it and doing it.

I don't have any experience doing any of this.

But I do have experience taking it apart.

"That's fine."

A small smile spread across his face. "I am glad we are in agreement. Obviously things are chaotic at the moment. We will have full damage and casualty estimates by morning. Once we do, we will provide you with current forces and infrastructure capacity."

I nodded. "Good. I'll need unit capabilities, a list of personnel with any combat expertise, preferably those who work with Coursers, logistics, and limits of your teleportation system."

This would be constructing a fighting force from the ground up, including commanders. I've never done this before, but I've seen enough different iterations of the same thing to know how it works.

X

"Build backward from the objective." I don't remember who told me that, but it was helpful trying to piece this plan together. The Institute really had thrown their eggs in one basket, that being their advanced technology. Outside of reference texts and some of the technicians in the Synth Retention Division being familiar with squad tactics, they had no knowledge or experience. That means this operation has to be put together from scratch.

Everything.

The most important thing we could do right now is establish an information gathering network. They do have field resources, but those have been primarily tasked with tracking escaped Synths. That's going to change.

The main threat is the Brotherhood, and they have absolutely no information on them. That put me at a disadvantage; the Brotherhood just gained a whole lot of information about the Institute.

They still hadn't allowed me to be involved in the interrogation of the four soldiers we'd captured, but that was fine, I have plenty of other things to worry about.

I had spent the last four days either sleeping, eating, or planning for this upcoming war the Institute is horribly prepared for. A lot of that time has been answering questions from Ayo, Shaun, or one of the various members of the SRD they'd tasked with training to be commanders. I almost laughed. Right because that's how you develop quality leadership.

Well I guess if they can't learn fast enough, this is going to be a short conflict.

Nate, for his part, stayed out of the way, mostly observing from one corner of the conference room that had been turned into a pseudo HQ. That was fine. He had more combat experience than anyone here besides me, but the type of engagements he's used to aren't going to be helpful here.

I'd also been supplied with every piece of information I'd requested and more. There were piles of documentation stacked on the conference room table as well as a terminal they had brought in. When I had the opportunity, I spent as much time as I could reading about their infrastructure's capacity. Good leadership and planning is important, but you don't win a war without someone to pull the trigger.

From what I could glean from the countless technical documents, the Institute could 'grow' batches of 50 Synths every week if they put it into overdrive. Most would be combat ready shortly after, having the necessary information programmed instead of learned. Coursers, a much more effective fighting unit, we're harder. They were chosen by aptitude and given extra training. Best I could figure, we'd get 10 a month.

Maybe I don't have exact figures on the Brotherhood forces, but those numbers didn't add up to a win. That meant guerilla tactics. Lucky for the Institute, guerilla tactics are what I do. Lucky for me, the Institute is uniquely well suited to undertake those guerilla tactics.

Another area they're well accounted for is resources and production capacity. According to a brief I got from Holdren, they could produce enough food and water to support a population triple what they have. Li assured me the production facilities in the ARD could supply anything from laser weapons and armor, to explosives and whatever I could dream up, within reason.

Their infrastructure is their biggest advantage; as far as I can tell, the Brotherhood have to run on whatever they can scavenge from the Commonwealth.

Or take from its citizens.

The citizens.

That's another variable I'll have to plan for. The civilians here hate the Institute (not that I blame them) and while the Brotherhood isn't endearing anyone, fear can go a long way. Especially fear of the unknown. I have to assume any open movement above ground will be met with hostility from them.

Now I know why a team of intel officers usually planned my operations. I hadn't gotten to the part about actually planning any recon operations, let alone combat, and I was already both bored and overwhelmed.

This is one of the reasons why I prefer to be boots on the ground rather than in a conference room. Especially if it's a conference room with a dozen inexperienced scientists trying to get a crash course in large scale combat theory.

A lot more of my time than I liked was spent teaching. I had to walk at least half of the eggheads through everything I was doing at any given time. Shaun's reasoning was sound: I'd be in the field, in combat the vast majority of the time and they needed an educated presence while I was. That didn't mean I enjoyed it, and it didn't make me any less uneasy. I'm teaching these people how to plan a war. That isn't knowledge I trust them with.

But I also don't have a choice. This is how I get back to the UNSC, and that's what matters right now.

It was nearing midnight on the fifth day, and I'd been at it for almost 20 hours straight. That hadn't strictly been by choice, any time I decided to take five, one of the eggheads would start bothering me. It had also been because I was working on a plan for diversifying field assets. Even if they secured the Molecular Relay, we couldn't rely on it. We had to have people and positions outside of the Institute that could act as support and resupply when something goes sideways.

That was a concept most of my impromptu mentees understood. What they didn't understand is why I wanted so many.

"If the Brotherhood of Steel begin uncovering our people, they will capture and torture them", Jackson, a 'trainer' in the Courser program said. For a desk jockey, he was well built, tall, and athletic, with a stern face and dark skin. He'd been the one who has asked the most questions and, if I'm being generous, one of the few I didn't mind answering questions for. "The same goes for these safe houses."

Most field operatives were trained to resist torture. I've dealt with my share of those, and they do a phenomenal job. We don't have those, but we can go one better. "Since these personnel are Synths, you can control their programming, correct?"

The man nodded and an instant later, nodded again. "We can control what information they have access to. Only give them what they need to do their jobs."

"If the Brotherhood picks a few up, that's fine; they're expecting it." I motioned to the massive map spread across the conference table. It had several dozen marks on it, places I thought reasonable to have supply stashes or safe houses. "Same goes for supplies. It isn't like we don't have them to spare."

"But if they're able to establish a pattern, it will be easier to track our positions, will it not", asked Clay Weller, another member of the SRD staff. He wasn't as… respectable as Jackson, usually pestering me with questions seemingly for the sake of asking them. The older, balding scientist had something to do with their surgical procedures, but I didn't ask what.

"If they know what to look for, it wouldn't matter. You always run the risk of being discovered. Proper concealment and verification mitigates that."

"But once they begin-"

Here we go again. "I'm not entertaining another pointless tangent."

"It isn't pointless if it allows the Brotherhood to find us", he retorted, irritated.

"Find us? What the hell do you think that attack was? You aren't hidden anymore. This is about fighting a war." I turned back to the map. "And tell me how randomly placed supplies and safe houses would help them find us."

"I believe I see Dr. Weller's point", a third, Miranda Brown, said. She was on the older side, but with her dirty blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, sharp features, and lithe build, she could have passed as Jackson's age. "If the Brotherhood were to trap one of these, they could capture personnel and interrogate them."

"Which is why we need to establish verification protocols. Permanent residents in the safe houses, and obvious tamper marks on the supply locations would be a start."

"How we secure them doesn't affect the fact we need them", Nate said from his spot, sitting in the corner of the conference room. He'd been watching silently most of the day, but I got the sense he didn't like Weller either. "Warfare 101: cut your enemy's supply line. An army without food doesn't last long. We have to assume some of them will be found and plan for that."

The ex-soldier looked and sounded exhausted. Despite rarely providing input, he'd been in the room almost every moment I was even if, like now, he looked ready to drop out of his chair. If he wanted to force it until he passed out, that was his prerogative.

Jackson cleared his throat. "So accepting we need these positions, I can collaborate with BioScience to build a list of supplies for each. I will just need quantities."

That was a good question. It depends on force deployment and movement along with how many we expect to be compromised, and how long we need them to support a given group for. I checked my HUD's clock: 2357. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink in 11 hours.

"We'll work on that tomorrow."

The rest of the room's occupants seemed relieved. I guess none of them wanted to be the one who called it quits. They all muttered an acknowledgment, and began filing from the room. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want the fighting to start soon. Standing around trying to teach these people was exhausting in an entirely new way.

Nate lingered, still sitting in the corner as the last of the Institute scientists left. His expression and body language were no longer hostile, but I knew him well enough to figure something was brewing under the surface. The ex-soldier doesn't stay quiet this long, and the way he was looking at me- it wasn't anger, but it was related.

I don't feel like playing this game. "Say whatever you have to say."

"I don't have anything to say", he replied with a frown.

"Then what do you want?"

"I-" he stood, still staring at me. "Actually I do. I hope you're willing to do what we need to if we're going to win this."

Without waiting for a response, the ex-soldier turned and stalked out of the room.

Willing to do what we need to…? Who- what does he think I am? He's the one who has complained about my methods for the last few months, and now he wants to lecture me about pragmatism?

Whatever. It wasn't going to do me any good worrying about it at this point. He has his own priorities now which isn't my concern anymore. What I need at this point is food and sleep.

That thought in mind, I followed Nate from the conference room and made for the cafeteria. Most of the food was pre-made and always ready. That made it convenient, especially since it meant I didn't need to talk with anyone to get it.

Taking a tray and loading it with what was probably too much food, I grabbed several bottles of water and marched back to my quarters. They'd given me a separate apartment at Nate's request. It was only a few rooms away from his, but it was far enough to have privacy, which is what mattered at this point.

Once inside, I unlatched my helmet and ate. The air in here smelled and tasted worse than the air above ground. It was tainted with the mechanical tinge of ancient air scrubbers, something thankfully missing from the Commonwealth.

It wasn't unfamiliar per se, all UNSC ships, and my own armor, had a similar quality. It wasn't as obvious though.

As usual, the food was delicious, which is to say completely wasted on me. It was chicken dressed in some strange, tangy sauce with a piece of ham wrapped inside. I didn't recognize the dish, but it did make me wonder what kind of world they could have built in the Commonwealth if they were willing to share some of their technology. They have the time and resources to make some strange, gourmet dish as normal fare, and I've been studying their infrastructure capacity for a week now. Goes to show what they think of the people above, I guess.

Not that it matters. Instead of helping them build, they'll be turning the Commonwealth into a battlespace. And I'd be helping. Would Sanctuary get caught in the crossfire? Would the other settlements they've begun establishing networks with be confiscated by the Brotherhood for resources? Would I have to resort to scorched earth tactics to deprive the Brotherhood of those resources?

A lot of innocent people are going to be caught in the fighting. But that's war, especially one like this. After all these years, it's easy to forget I was once an innocent person caught in the fighting.

… That was a long time, and a lot of death ago now. Dwelling on it won't make what I have to do any easier.

I pushed the thoughts of Sanctuary, of Cassandra, of Thomas, of Julian out of my mind. I promised I'd help, but that was before everything that's happened over the past week happened. That was before I remembered I wasn't made to be that.

A small, sad smile twitched across my lips.

I wasn't made to be that… but the brief glimpse I had of it, of doing something because it was the right thing to do. It had been… nice. Maybe someday, after I leave, someone will come along and help the people of the Commonwealth. Who knows, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Nate will try to change the Institute, to give some of its resources, capacity, and technology to that hellhole.

Maybe. I would appreciate that.

Not that I'd ever know.

Finishing my food, I set the tray on the small table. Taking it back to the commons could wait until morning. I secured my helmet in place, sat against the wall opposite the door, MK-18 resting across my lap, and settled into sleep.

It wasn't sound.

Gunshots, explosions, smoke and debris. Bodys flung through the air, the sounds of screaming, crying and pleading just discernible under the deluge of combat.

I was huddled in the corner, the other few survivors with me, all of us trying to squeeze ourselves away from the fighting.

It was then I realized, the crying and pleading were coming from us. But- but this was after the Covenant won, right? Who was-

The boom of a high caliber rifle, probably an SRS-99 AM, sounded over the staccato cracks of infantry rifles and the whine of plasma weapons. Purple blood sprayed over me, mixing with the red I was already bathed in. An instant later another boom shook my ears as a Sangheili crashed to the floor beside us.

We all screamed again.

The fighting continued raging around us for what seemed like an eternity. Covenant bodies were falling from some unknown force. I didn't know what it was, and I didn't care. We were just as dead either way. We were just as dead as everyone else who had fought, and died, from the Covenant.

I covered my ears, curled into the tightest ball I could-

And waited.

I waited to feel the burning of a plasma bolt, or claws grabbing onto me, teeth tearing into me. Everyone else was dead, why should I be any different? Why should I get to survive when I watched my mom, my dad, my sister, and everyone else die?

No, it wasn't a question. I shouldn't. I wouldn't. And that would be okay. Right? I mean, if they died, if my parents couldn't survive, then I couldn't.

Suddenly, my mind was at peace.

Yes- yes I'm going to die, but at least I'll do it at home, and I won't have to live without everyone. I won't have to live with the nightmare that is this war. I won't have to go into foster care, find a new family, and wait, watching the skies, afraid of seeing the bulbous shapes of Covenant ships dropping through the atmosphere to do this again.

I don't have to-

A hand laid itself on my back. Not the claws of an alien, but a human hand. A large one.

What?

What was happening?

Slowly, I pulled my hands away from my ears and, painfully, craned my neck around to look at whoever was there.

The only thing staring back was a black helmet with a dark blue visor.

"Oh my god", the person wearing the helmet muttered before standing. "Sarge! We've got survivors here!"

Another armored figure ran over. I didn't know who or what they were at the time. All I knew was I wasn't dead.

And it wasn't a dream.

… Why?

Why?

WHY!?

Why had they come? Why had they saved me? I was supposed to die. I wasn't supposed to survive if no one else could.

I don't know- I don't know.

No, this can't- I can't live. Mom and dad, and Bri. They were supposed to survive. The Trents, they were always nice. Why did I get to live and they didn't? The Kims. The Walshs… anyone.

Why me…?

Now I recognized those armored figures as ODST. They'd fought their way through the Covenant who attacked us. And because of them I was going to survive.

It was their fault.

My eyes snapped open and I found myself, once again, in the present, staring at the closed door to my apartment.

Once again, I found myself in the present, a SPARTAN, not a five year old boy on the verge of death.

Once again, I found myself living in this never ending loop.

I rested my head against the steel wall behind me and stared at the ceiling. Five year old me knew what questions to ask better than I did. I'm alive.

Why?

The answer thus far has been to fight. To kill. To be a reusable WMD for my handlers whenever they felt my services necessary.

Is that going to change?

How would it not? It's what I do- what I've always done. I don't know anything else.

Is that true, or am I just afraid of another answer?

How the hell am I supposed to know? Right now, my concern is getting the Institute to help me get back to the UNSC. Answering that question is going to take time and brain power I don't have to spare.

Or maybe I should take the time to.

And that helps me get back to the UNSC how?

Answers the question of whether that needs to be my only focus. I'm not comfortable helping the Institute, right? Maybe I need to answer that question before I do.

Before my mind could offer a response to its own challenge, I heard boots ringing on steel in the hall outside. It was just past 0500, I doubt many people would be out at this point.

I climbed to my feet and stowed the internal argument. It could wait until after whatever this was.

As expected, the footsteps stopped in front of my door and it slid open with a gentle hiss.

Nate was standing in the corridor, face set in a determined glare.

"Do you have some time to talk?"

That was… odd. "About?"

The ex-soldier motioned out into the hall. "Follow me, Shaun wants to meet with us."

Ah yes, that old ominous line. The melodrama some people use is ridiculous.

Doesn't matter.

I nodded and began after Nate as he led me through the halls back to the conference room. My own personal hell at this point.

Like he said, Shaun was waiting there, along with X6-88, X2-17, three other Coursers, and Ayo. That gave me a few guesses what this was about. Ayo, Coursers, probably some combat op, most likely to do with escaped Synths. I'm not sure why that would be a priority at the moment, but it's only a guess at this point.

With five Coursers in here, they could also try something stupid. It would be an interesting opportunity to see what the MK-18 did to soft targets.

Once I stopped in front of the table, large map still spread across its surface, Shaun cleared his throat. "I appreciate you coming so early, especially given the massive amount of work you've done", he motioned to the map, "but something has come up we need your assistance rectifying."

Oh great, we're here to play the guessing game, huh?

"The suspense is killing me."

"I would not be so sarcastic", Ayo said, "this is your fault."

My eyes shifted from Shaun, to the irritable division leader, and back.

"He is correct, in part", the older man continued in his customary dry, almost bored tone. "We have finished interviewing the Brotherhood soldiers. One of the many things we learned is they were part of a task force sent to retrieve Dr. Virgil after you two made contact with him. It was through information gleaned from the doctor they were able to break into our Molecular Relay."

That was unfortunate. The doctor turned Supermutant would be in their custody or dead. He'd probably prefer dead. "Secure it better."

"We are working on that as we speak. However, it would be much easier to do so if there were not those who wished to use it. In addition, with the upcoming fight against the Brotherhood of Steel, we cannot risk losing more Synths to escape. Any that do are security risks with our enemies searching for any advantage they can get over us."

While that was certainly true, if they-

… Oh.

"With that in mind", the white haired, dying man continued, "we have been discussing the best methods for securing our facilities outside of your planning sessions. Based on the new information we have, we've agreed on the need to tie up any loose ends you two left on your way here."

Shaun's voice hadn't changed; his tone was still neutral and dry, his cadence was the same plodding pace, but what he said felt a lot more sinister. ONI would love this guy.

"Who would you consider loose ends?"

The Institute leader frowned. "You have spent more time than any of us planning for this war. I am sure you have already put together a list of potential risks."

I had. But they were talking about one in particular.

"The Railroad."

"That is correct", he said with a nod. "They are tenacious and, as much as I dislike admitting, intelligent. They know more of our secrets than they should and because of that, have been very hard to eliminate completely. You two, however, have been in their new headquarters, have gained their trust, to an extent, and represent our best opportunity to destroy them. For the last time."

They want me to wipe out the Railroad.

The request both was and wasn't a surprise. It made sense: they're the largest security risk. I didn't expect them to do it like this though. I should have. It's what I would have done- should have done the moment they asked me to lead this. But I-

If I'm going to get back to the UNSC, the Institute needs to win this war. Eliminating a high risk threat like the Railroad is a must do.

This wasn't a military operation, or an insurrectionist outpost, this was a small collection of largely non-combatants.

That's what qualifies as a threat here.

My hands were balled into fists. I took a deep breath and forced them to relax. What had me-

"I'm pulling Cassandra and Thomas out first", I said.

Shaun nodded. "Agreeable. My father already suggested as much. There was some argument over it, but we will gladly accept them as members of the Institute."

Argument? I glanced at Nate. The ex-soldier was quiet and stone faced. Then it clicked into place. This wasn't something they floated before bringing it up to me; this is a conversation they've had at length. "I hope you're willing to do what we need to if we're going to win this."

They'd already planned this, talked about how to get me on board. Nate brought up the kids.

But was that out of his own concern for them, or a strategy to get me to agree? Then there was the question of having them live here, in the Institute. They would be safer than almost anywhere else, able to live in relative comfort and luxury. This place though- it isn't the Brotherhood, but is it any better? What other choice do I have though?

I could take them to Sanctuary, like we originally planned.

Would they be any safer there than here?

They won't be in the center of a war.

But that war will spread. What happens when the Brotherhood go looking for more resources? If they find Cassandra and Thomas in Sanctuary, they'll know it has some connection to me

And if I bring them here, the Institute could be destroyed or, if it isn't, they could be pulled into their appalling practice.

What is this a discussion for? I have an objective, and I have a direct path to achieving it. I already have enough to deal with. If Something needs to change down the line, I'll deal with it later.

Then there's the question about the Railroad. Why want me to kill them? I understand why from their perspective, but that seems a bit ruthless, even for me.

I have to though. This is how I get back to the UNSC. The fewer variables I have to deal with, the easier it will be to win this war. The sooner we win this war, the faster I get back to my universe.

There's a mission objective. I complete my mission objectives.

"I'll handle it", I said.

Nate stood. "I'm coming."

"I don't need you there."

"Don't care", the ex-soldier retorted, shaking his head. "I'm coming."

"What, you don't trust me to do my job?" I let a hint of challenge creep into my voice.

He laughed. "Trust you? Damon, there's one thing I trust you to do."

"Good. Stay here."

"Not happening."

"Please", Shaun interjected before I could respond. "This isn't productive." The old man looked at me. "Damon, my father wishes to be there to ensure the safety of Cassandra and Thomas. They are as important to him as they are to you."

I glared at my former companion. Why hadn't he said that?

"Stay out of the way." I turned to the Institute leader. "We'll make contact after the sun sets."

Shaun nodded. "Agreeable."

There may have been more that they wanted to discuss, Shaun had said he wanted me to include him and Ayo in strategic decisions, but I needed to leave that room. I don't know why, I just couldn't be in there any longer.

As I made my way back to my room, I was vaguely aware of someone asking me something as I passed by, but I didn't pay attention.

My mind was preoccupied.

They want me to eliminate the Railroad. It makes sense, it's a reasonable decision on their part, and I'm working with them. I'm supposed to do what's necessary to win whatever this coming war will be. This is what I've always done. Aside from taking what satisfaction I could from fighting the Covenant (at least in the beginning), I've been a tool, something to be deployed when a mission needs doing. That's what's going on here.

And yet… this feels off.

I ducked through the door into my small apartment, and stood in the living room as it slid shut behind me. Emotions get in the way of the mission. That's how I've operated since I began training exclusively under Katrina and Mendez. This isn't about how I feel, it's about what I need to do. Letting emotions intrude on a mission objective is how you leave someone else to clean up your mess. Right now I have to worry about what I need to do to get back to the UNSC.

That's my only concern.

Apparently keeping Cassandra and Thomas safe is too.

Well- yes. They don't need to be caught in the crossfire. I can't let them down again. And I don't know if there's anything that could get me to pull the trigger on them.

An image of me aiming my rifle at Cassandra as she cowered in a corner, covering the young boy. She was staring at me, eyes wide, but not just from fear. They were filled with hatred and anger and pain. I'd betrayed them.

My entire body went rigid.

No, I hadn't just betrayed them, I was going to kill them. I'd robbed them of another home, no matter how temporary it was.

Bodies were scattered around the cave, blood smeared over every surface.

And suddenly I was staring up at myself, aiming the MK-18 back at me. A massive, implacable suit of armor, golden visor glaring down at me without a hint of remorse.

The same terror I'd felt during the Covenant assault gripping me in it's iron clad clutches.

That's why I'm getting them out first. I'm not going to kill them. I'm not the Covenant. Now I need to get my head on straight. This is when things actually start.

I shook myself, forcing my mind to focus on what needs to be done.

Cassandra and Thomas would survive, and no matter what came next, they'd at least be safe.

Stalking over to the table, I slipped my rifle from it's sling and began my customary pre-mission rituals. Stock supplies, clean weapons, run through the plan.

The plan… Right.

X

Nate was trudging through the darkened, crumbling city beside me. His eyes roamed the surrounding structures, searching for threats. I was doing the same.

This wasn't like the last time we'd both been out of the Institute. Before the Brotherhood attack. Before Nora. Before his… outburst.

Before I remembered.

Two weeks. A lot can happen in two weeks.

Bases can be destroyed, armies overrun, cities razed.

Entire worlds burnt to a cinder.

Those were all things I knew, I was used to, no matter how… morbid they may be.

Something I wasn't familiar with was how much I could change in that time. How much someone else could.

The man next to me was nothing like the one who spent weeks stuck in the Railroad's HQ, entertaining Cassandra and Thomas.

I- well I guess I hadn't exactly 'changed'. All that happened was Nate reminded me of what I am, what I'm supposed to be, and what I'm here to do. Nothing has changed about that since coming here, the only thing that happened was I thought a few kind words and pleasant thoughts could change that. Regardless of whether I remember what happened to me, regardless of how I feel about some of the people I've met since coming here, I'm still Damon G-052.

There are nicknames out there for me, floating around insurrectionist and secessionist circles. I'm sure I've even heard some of them. But none stick with me. All I'd ever been concerned with is completing the mission, whether that be assassinating a target, blowing an outpost, or getting rid of a cell.

That's all this is. This is just another mission to complete. Another target to be eliminated. Another step closer to getting back to my universe. That's the only thing I need to focus on. The only thing I need to worry about.

…

…

…

Right?

Nate and I crossed under a building that had collapsed across the street and wedged itself against the tower on the opposite side. We were a little over a block away from the entrance Deacon uses.

My eyes were darting around the dark, blown out windows, crumbling walls, piles of debris, and rusted frames that, at one point, had been vehicles. The last time I was here, the Railroad had lookouts established to watch the subway entrance. Were they still here? Did they know what I was coming to do? Did they know I'm working with the Institute now? Do they-

Relax. Breathe.

I stopped a dozen meters from the half collapsed single story structure that led down to the subway below.

Going in like this is only going to make things harder. Relax, breathe, stick to the plan.

The ex-soldier was staring at me, an irritated frown on his face.

I wish he weren't here. Why did he come? It isn't to look after the kids, so why?

Not like I can do anything about it now.

Oh yes there is.

Nothing I should do about it now.

My feet began carrying me forward once again.

Isn't there?

As I approached the broken front door, I scanned it for signs of a trap. No obvious wires, the rubble hadn't been moved, and, unless they were extraordinarily well hidden, no one inside the crumbling, relatively barren interior to ambush us.

It felt like the night was pressing down on my back as I walked into the subway's entrance.

I'm here to kill them this time. I'm not here to report back, I'm here to kill them.

We continued into the subway system, it's damaged, dilapidated concrete walls washed in the twilight glow of my MJOLNIR's NVS.

My MJOLNIR.

Not just a shield, a weapon I've used to kill countless people. I've lost and destroyed firearms, equipment- but never my armor. Always the same armor.

The Railroad was just the next group to fall victim to me. To it.

After all, I'm a SPARTAN. More people recognize me by my armor than my face.

The trek felt as though it stretched on into eternity. The dark subway tunnels, narrow side passages, and occasional foray back above ground- they seemed to take an order of magnitude longer to traverse than normal.

My mission clock told me a different story. We were making the same time I usually did on this route.

It was me that was out of sync. This isn't going to be a quick and easy fight, I need to keep my head on mission. All of these other thoughts- they're unnecessary baggage. Baggage I can't afford right now. I'm so close to completing the mission, just one more thing. I only need to do what I was made to do.

I just need to fight. That's all. It's all I'm meant to be, a weapon, and the Institute was aiming me for now. The rest of this isn't what I am. I'm a SPARTAN III. I'm a killer. And that's what I'll do.

Half an hour after we entered the subway, we emerged from another entrance, the church in sight.

Just do what I'm supposed to.

The ex-soldier followed me as I picked my way through the dilapidated, rubble strewn main floor of the church. The night was bearing down on me now. It felt like the silent, stilted air was trying to crush me in my armor. Why am I so nervous? These people- they aren't a major threat. I have a plan, all I need to do is get the kids to Nate, and it'll be over.

We climbed down to the basement and began toward the-

"Stop there", a voice called from behind us. "Hands out to your sides, away from your body, face forward, no sudden moves."

My body twitched, ready to respond to the threat.

Not yet.

Nate cleared his throat as he followed the order. "Hey Chris, a little… aggressive on the welcome back."

"Just being careful", the man replied. I forced my arms away from my gun, trying to relax. "We're keen to keep ourselves out of the Institute's sightlines, and, well, you been there the last few weeks."

"Oh don't worry", the ex-soldier said with a weariness I almost believed. "They didn't replace us with Synths."

The guard chuckled. "I don't know why anyone would make a Synth of you."

"Because one of me isn't enough for this world."

I glanced down at the smaller man. Damn you're good. Came here to kill these people and you're joking with one like we just left.

"Yeah, sure bud." Rustling came from his position. "I'm gonna sweep you, stand still."

Chris's footsteps clacked on the stone floor as he approached from behind. My arms tensed, and legs coiled. All they knew was this was someone I'd be fighting in a few minutes. Having him at my back flew in the face of every instinct I have. Even so, I locked my body in place and waited.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something float over Nate, and then me. Probably some form of signal detector.

We aren't calling for backup.

A few seconds later, he stepped away. "Go ahead. Tom and Desdemona have been hopping around like kids waiting for you to report back. Glad that'll finally stop."

"Thanks Chris", Nate said, not a hint of what was about to happen in his voice.

Weaving through the halls, the stone walls and ceiling seemed a lot tighter than the last time I'd been through here. My hand slid its way toward the concussion charge I had tucked in a pouch.

No. This isn't a breach and clear. I need to wait.

A moment later, we entered the unfinished cavern they turned into their base of operations. It was, for the group, crowded. Deacon, Desdemona, Tinker Tom, Glory, Pam, a dozen of their soldiers-

I felt my chest tighten.

Cassandra and Thomas were there, standing beside the man they'd played cards with- I think his name was Hank- both staring at us with barely contained excitement.

"Oh my god- you're actually back", Tom said, his eyes wide and a massive smile plastered onto his face. "Were the s-"

"Slow down Tom", the Railroad leader said, looking at her subordinate. Her hardened, weathered face hid her eagerness well. "They just got here and we need to give them some time to breathe." She turned back to us, to Nate. "I hope you found what you were looking for at the Institute."

Oh yeah, we found Shaun.

The ex-soldier nodded. "Yes. It… wasn't what I wanted, or expected, but I did."

"I understand", Desdemona replied with a solemn frown. "That is how most things work in the Commonwealth."

"That's something I've started accepting, I think." Nate cleared his throat. "It isn't the easiest thing to deal with."

"It never is."

My gaze wandered to the two kids while they spoke. Cassandra's expression was still controlled, but the small smile on her face and the way she was fidgeting with her hands betrayed her. Thomas was damn near jumping with excitement. Did he think I found Julian?

The image- that same image that's haunted me since the ambush flashed through my head, of the Brotherhood Vertibird soaring away, him staring at me, screaming in terror. My hands clenched and my jaw tightened.

What's the difference between what they did and what I'm about to do?

Doesn't matter. This is the mission. This is what I'm supposed to do.

The mission? What's the mission for?

The UNSC-

The silence that had fallen over the cavern finally intruded on my thoughts and I felt the collective gaze of the people there on me.

"Sorry", Nate said, "he's been a little preoccupied. While we were in the Institute, the Brotherhood infiltrated and attacked."

There was a murmuring of surprised exclamations among the assembled Railroad members.

"How?" Deacon asked.

"We think they captured Dr. Virgil, the Institute scientist who told us about the Courser chip, and used him to do it."

The Railroad agent actually looked troubled. "They were able to develop this technology that quickly?"

The ex-soldier shrugged. "They weren't able to figure out how long they'd been researching it for." He glanced at me. "We had a suspicion the Brotherhood already knew about the Molecular Relay. It wouldn't surprise me if they were looking for a few missing pieces of information."

"So the Brotherhood are serious about starting a war." Deacon shifted. "Damn. That's going to make life a lot more complicated…"

A lump formed in my throat.

"Well", Desdemona said, "I think that's something we can discuss as we get through some other issues." She turned to the cavern. "Nothing seems imminent, so we can give them a few minutes to unwind."

With the Railroad leader's dismissal, the others began dispersing while Cassandra and Thomas raced over to us.

"You're finally back!" Thomas exclaimed.

My eyes couldn't decide what to focus on. They were darting between the two of them, along with any Railroad member still in sight. Targets and allies. Targets and allies.

The young boy stopped in front of me, staring up into my visor with an oddly mixed expression.

"Cass said you wouldn't have Julian yet", his smile disappeared for an instant before returning full force. It even reached his eyes. "She said you'd get him back though. That you kept us safe, and brought us here, so we should trust you to save Julian too."

Cassandra's face flushed. "Tommy, why are you telling him that?" She took a deep breath. "The people here have been great. Even started teaching us." The teenager looked down at her adopted younger brother. "Turns out he's got a knack for making things. Tom calls him his 'mini me'. Glory's been helping me with some… simple fighting." Her eyes returned to me, a hint of sharpness in her gaze. "I don't want to be helpless anymore."

The lump grew until it was hard for me to breathe.

I don't want this.

I knelt in front of the two. Both looked so happy, both looked so… content.

"We'll wait for you to get Julian back", Cassandra said, "I- I didn't want to, but I know you're doing everything you can to find him."

But I wasn't. My presence here is evidence of that. I'm here to wipe out the Railroad- to take another home from them.

Julian- I'd still try to save him, but that was an aside to the war we were going to fight with the Brotherhood. Nate said it, right? I shoot things. Maybe I get Julian back, but it's going to be by wading through an ocean of bodies. That's nothing new, I've left countless in my wake, what's a few more in a different universe?

That's what these people are, right? A few dozen on the pile? There's enough blood on my hands for lifetimes.

Who would notice the difference at this point?

I don't want this.

"Do-" the rest of the words caught in my throat. I cleared it, trying to get rid of the blockage. It didn't really help.

"Do you feel safe here?"

This- I can't do this. This isn't what I'm here for. This isn't what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to carry out my orders, to finish the mission, accomplish the objective.

It isn't what I was made to do. What I've been trained to do. What I've spent my life doing. I'm not here to be a protector, or a friend.

I'm a weapon. I'm here to kill things.

I don't want this.

Cassandra nodded. "Yes." Her jaw tightened and, for a brief moment, her eyes glistened. "I didn't think I'd ever feel safe again." She'd been through what I had. Twice. And she's still able to say that. To look at something, someone and tell them she feels safe. To find something like helping Julian and Thomas to dedicate herself to.

"Thank you." She looked at Nate. "Both of you. I- I don't know if I'm okay yet, or if I'll ever be okay, but you've made it cross my mind." A modicum of her tenacious determination peeked back through her expression. "And I'll wait for you to get Julian back."

She's strong. Stronger than me.

"That means a lot Cass", Nate said, voice a little thicker than normal. Was that fake too? "We'll get him back. We will."

They feel safe here. Safe enough to be comfortable. Safe enough to say they'll wait.

The Railroad has kept them safe and happy while I was gone, with the Institute trying- failing to help Nate.

This was the happiest, the most relaxed I'd ever seen them.

I don't want this.

My eyes flicked around the cavern. Tinker Tom was at a terminal, tapping away with some contraption on the table beside him. Four of the soldiers were sitting in the kitchenette, eating and talking. Deacon was with Desdemona at the back, conversing quietly. A few others, including Glory, someone Cassandra had latched on to, were around us too.

These are people the two of them trust. Something I'd never been able to do after the Covenant attack.

And I'm here to take that from them.

I don't want this.

If I betray them like that, will they ever be able to trust anyone again?

They looked so… at ease.

These people I'm here to kill- the only crime they're guilty of is trying to help. Even if they could do it better.

Their crime has never been my concern though. My concern has always been the mission.

Orders. Following orders.

What orders? I have no orders.

Not explicitly, but my responsibility is to the UNSC.

"Damon?" Thomas asked, a small frown on his face. "Are you okay?"

Am- am I okay?

"What?" I tried to say, but it came out as more of a grunt.

"What?"

"You- you look sad."

I look sad?

This kid- I'm here to uproot his life yet again, and he's concerned I look sad?

These two- they're too good for me. Too strong for me.

I don't want this.

"Hey guys", Nate said, resting a hand on Cassandra's shoulder. "He's okay, he's just got a lot on his mind right now. Come on, let's give him a minute."

The lump forced its way back up my throat. It came back so quickly and so large, I almost stopped breathing.

This was it. Nate would take them to the back, where we'd slept the last time we were here, and the fight would start.

It wouldn't be complicated. I had four concussion charges and two explosives. One of the concussion charges would be enough to disorient everyone in here. An explosive for the table of four, another for Desdemona and Deacon. The concussion waves from those would buy me a few more seconds. By then, everyone else in the cavern would be dead. At that point it was wait until more of them crowded in, and use the other concussion grenades.

A few minutes at the most.

A few more minutes of fighting, of killing, and I'd be one step closer to getting back to the UNSC.

All I have to do is what I was made to do for a few more minutes, and after that, the only ones I need to kill are the Brotherhood. And I have no love lost for them.

This hurdle- after I'm done here, there's nothing left to stop me from doing what I've been trained to do.

All I have to do is wipe out the Railroad. Kill the people Cassandra and Thomas have come to trust, and destroy their ability to trust anyone again. Lock the emotions I've come to recognize, even appreciate, away once more.

This time for good.

I just have to be SPARTAN G-052.

First Lieutenant Damon SPARTAN G-052.

Damon SPARTAN G-052.

Damon G-052

Damon.

Me.

…

…

…

…

…

I DON'T WANT THIS.

My hand stopped a millimeter from the pouch my first concussion charge was in.

Nate met my gaze for an instant as he began pulling the two of them toward the room.

Pulled them to safety.

From ME.

That same hand shot out and latched onto his forearm. Clamped down hard enough I felt the bones flex.

The ex-soldier shouted in pain before releasing Cassandra's shoulder.

"Damon what the hell are you doing?!" he cried, other hand trying to pry mine away.

I stood. "I'm not doing this."

He stopped struggling and, despite the evident pain on his face, locked eyes with me. "What are you talking about?"

Unlatching my hand, I nodded toward the entrance. "Tell Shaun I'm not doing this."

Silence blanketed the cavern as I felt a dozen pairs of eyes locked on me.

They didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

I don't want this- I don't want this and I'm done doing things just because I'm supposed to do them.

Nate's mouth worked up and down, no words coming out for a few seconds before he finally found his voice.

"I- you're- what are you-", suddenly his face grew red with anger and his eyes narrowed to almost slits. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm not doing the Institute's dirty work. You're on your own."

"This is bullshit Damon! You know we have to-"

"WE?" I roared. "WE? Who the fuck is we? All you've ever done is stand to the side while I did the killing- while I was covered in blood. That's all anyone has ever done with me; sit back and watch me do their killing. I'm done doing it because I'm supposed to be a weapon."

Someone grabbed my hand and I glanced to the side to see Thomas reaching up, fear and confusion twisting his fa-

My head whipped back around as Nate went for his rifle. My hands lashed out and, before he could make it more than a few centimeters, my left was wrapped around his right forearm, and my right around his throat. I felt the bones in his arm snap as I ripped him into the air. I twisted, slamming the smaller man down on a table beside us.

He tried to scream in pain again, but his air supply was cut off.

"I told you I'm DONE", I hissed. "Now. Get. Out."

I released him and stepped away.

Nate sputtered and heaved as his lungs tried desperately to pull air in.

Fear. An all too familiar fear was plastered on his face. Jaw set, eyes as wide as they could be, locked onto my visor. He took several, breathless moments to pick himself up off the table.

Once he did though, and the rush of adrenaline and initial fear wore off, a drop of something else joined the sea of terror. What was it? Pain?

It didn't matter.

The smaller man looked from me, to Cassandra and Thomas who were standing behind me, and back.

Lost. He looked… lost.

Slowly, painfully, my former companion turned and began trudging out of the room. No one tried to stop him. Maybe they were all too surprised.

As I watched him exit, the realization hit me: I'd just nuked the first, maybe only friendship I've ever had. The multitude of days, nights, conversations, and fights flashed through my head. From the first time I'd discussed the attack with- anyone to him apologizing for making me wait the first day we were at the Institute. The first fight in Sanctuary, the Deathclaws, saving him from Kleo's ambush.

Then there was the understanding, the empathy.

He didn't just know what happened to me, he understood it. The same way I could understand his need to reunite with his son. The will to do anything to get him back.

And the pain once he saw what became of him.

It was-

"What just happened?"

A moment passed before the words registered. That was Desdemona.

I turned to face the Railroad leader. Her face was a mask of confusion and anger. She wasn't dumb enough to miss what I'd just said.

No point in lying now.

"The Institute sent me to kill you." I looked down at Cassandra and Thomas. They were both staring at me.

Maybe I hadn't gone through with it, but I still betrayed them. I still let them down. Again. I'm here, I almost did it. I was a half second from destroying another home of theirs. Of killing people they had come to trust.

They deserve someone better than me- stronger than me to rely on. I'm not worthy of their trust.

I don't think I ever have been.

It wasn't until I looked back up that I noticed every person in the cavern had a weapon aimed at me.

"You'll need to elaborate", Desdemona said, face, and voice, made of stone.

"Nothing to elaborate on. They wanted you dead."

That's over now though, and I'm not going back to the Institute, and-

And I'm not going back to my universe.

Somehow- somehow I wasn't disappointed. I'd just thrown everything away.

But, for once, I did the right thing.

I did the right thing.

My eyes returned to the kids for an instant.

I did the right thing for them, because I wanted to do the right thing. That's enough for now.

That's enough for now.

"You need to go. Now."

"Not until-"

"Dez", Deacon interrupted, handgun still trained on me. "If he's telling the truth, the Institute'll be on us in no time. We should leave."

Her eyes stayed on the covert agent for a moment before turning back on me, fire burning behind them.

"You betrayed us." The accusation in her voice- I didn't know her well, but it hurt. It hurt because she was right.

It hurt because I betrayed Cassandra and Thomas, the two people who still believed in me, who still trusted me.

"I'm sorry", I said quietly. So quietly I could barely hear it. "I didn't mean to."

Desdemona held my gaze for an instant longer before turning the fire in her eyes away. "Let's go people."

Activity exploded around me, the Railroad members bustling around the cavern to gather whatever they needed. They were leaving because of me, because I decided the only thing that mattered was getting back to the UNSC. Because I trusted Nate.

No, maybe 'trust' is too strong a word for what this was, but I went along with it. Because that's what I'm supposed to do. I'm supposed to follow orders.

Well, now there won't be any orders again.

That's-

Someone tugged on my right hand again and I looked down to see Thomas. He was pulling on the titanium clad gauntlet that had killed untold numbers of insurrectionists, secessionists, and whoever else ONI wanted dead just because I was told to. His face was a mask of confusion. Cassandra though, Cassandra understood what was happening.

And she was pissed. "Did you come here to kill us too?"

My eyes went wide behind my visor. My throat tightened and I felt my stomach twist itself into knots.

"NO!" I said, shaking my head vigorously. "No that was-"

That was my one condition for this? That'll help.

"Cassandra- I'd never-" I couldn't finish that sentence. It was a lie.

Even if they weren't caught in the fighting, doing this would have hurt them. This did hurt them. I hurt them.

"I'm sorry." My eyes dropped to the ground. "I've let you down twice now." Which one was worse though? I don't know.

I forced myself to meet her eyes. "You need to go with them. You need- you deserve better than what I can give you. I'll get Julian back. I promise. And…" I trailed off. What the hell is a promise from me worth?

"Just go."

"No", the teenager said. "You're coming too. If the Institute is after the Railroad- if they're coming to kill them, it's because of you, and you need to be there to defend them."

That made sense, but even so, I couldn't. No one here would be able to trust me, and they shouldn't. Removing me from the equation would make everyone safer.

"I can't. I'll handle things with the Institute. These people know what they're doing, you'll be safe."

A modicum of worry found its way onto her face. "You aren't going to abandon us too. I've had too many people leave me. This isn't about a mistake, this is about you fixing it."

More of me than I ever thought possible wanted to believe her, wanted to go with her.

But I couldn't. Desdemona and the rest of the Railroad would never allow it.

"I-"

"Cass, Thomas", Glory said, glaring at me as she approached. "We need to go."

The teenager looked from me to the Railroad soldier. "Damon is coming-"

"I'm sorry, he isn't. He's an Institute agent."

Desperation joined the medley of emotions in her expression. "No- no he isn't. He's saved us. He- he-"

"He betrayed us." Glory's eyes were sharp, full of hatred.

She was right, of course.

Thomas was still tugging on my hand, tears streaming down his face.

This- I need to do this. For them. I've failed them twice now, I can't do it again. I shoved my pain, my helplessness as far away as I could. This isn't about me, or how I feel. This is about keeping them safe, and I'm not the right person to do it, not directly. "You two need to go with them."

Thomas cried out as I pulled my hand away. "No! No! You can't go! You can't-"

"I have to. I'm sorry." I turned to Glory. "I don't care what you think of me, you protect these two with your life."

The white haired woman hesitated, eyes narrowed. She was studying me with an intensity I've only seen from a few people. After a moment, she nodded and grabbed each of them. "Come on."

As she led them away, both Cassandra and Thomas wordlessly stared at me. No protesting, just defeated acceptance.

Even trying to do the best thing possible for them in this situation, I betrayed them. Somehow, despite everything, they still wanted me to come with them. That hurt too.

This is what's best though. More than the Railroad not trusting me, I need to be as mobile and adaptable as possible. I'll be fighting the two most powerful entities in the area, maybe on the planet. I'll be doing what I was made to do, not because I'm supposed to, but because I want to.

Because, regardless of the repercussions for me, it's the right thing to do.

Glory led them to an alcove in the back of the cavern, most likely an escape route. The other Railroad members followed, some casting a hateful glance my way, others not bothering to look. Deacon was the only one who stopped.

"What's really going on here?" he asked.

"Exactly what I said."

The Railroad agent's eyes locked onto mine and, even through his dark tinted glasses, I could feel the anger in his gaze.

"You came here to kill us. Why didn't you?"

Why didn't I? Well- I guess that's a pretty simple answer. Despite everything, I almost chuckled. "Because it was the wrong thing to do. It took until I was standing here to realize that."

He frowned, but, after a few seconds, nodded. "What now?"

"Now?" I don't know, really. I- I don't know. "Play it by ear."

Deacon grunted. "The Commonwealth loses, whoever wins that fight. You want to repay us, do something about that."

Without another word, the man turned and followed his companions out through their escape route. They were alive for now, but that isn't because I saved them, I just didn't kill them. And I was alone.

Again.

Cassandra, Thomas, Julian, and Nate. The four people I'd come to- more than care for- consider friends were gone, and I was alone again. As always.

It's what's supposed to happen. That's where I'm supposed to be. Everything I did, everything I've done here, led to bad outcomes. Led to this.

Alone is where I belong, where I can't hurt anyone. Well… where I can't hurt anyone I care about. Hurting people is what I do, it's what I've always done, and now I'm going to put that skill to use again. Neither the Institute or the Brotherhood are going to help me at this point, and the only thing this war will do is destroy what little life the people here have scrounged together.

I can do something about that by hurting people.

My feet began carrying me back toward the hall, through its rocky, winding passages, and back up into the church.

There was no plan, no strategies, and no mission. All I know is I need to get Julian back, and keep Cassandra, Thomas, and Sanctuary safe, even if it's from a distance. My brand of protection is probably best served at a distance anyway.

Even as I made that decision, a deep ache in my chest tried to push back. Preston, Alexandra, Sturges, Ellie, Valentine… even the kids after all this, they wanted me around. I've been alone so long, the idea of having people I could not only tolerate, but wanted to to be around too… It was strange and new and warm.

Do I deserve that? After everything?

The odd thing about it was, what's happened, what I've done before coming here wasn't my concern. It's what I've done since coming here that made the decision for me: no. No I don't. Not now. Not after betraying them like that.

Then there's Nate. What the hell am I supposed to think about the ex-soldier? The person- the friend who catalyzed all of this. The friend who encouraged me to change, to grow, turned his back on me when that change drove me to do something I wanted, something good. Does that mean I chose wrong? That I've done this wrong?

I didn't know, couldn't know. This is all new for me.

Before I realized, I was at the entrance to the church, staring out into the night. The crumbling city around me almost seemed to beckon, like it knew this was right, that it would be my only companion.

Too late to take it back now. I stepped forwa-

Something crashed into my shields and a split second later a supersonic crack exploded into the night.

My body reacted on its own, legs coiling to drive me back into-

A dozen more projectiles slammed into me, and my shields flickered

Then they failed.

The alarm had just registered when another volley hit me. Most pinged off my suit's thick titanium plates, but a few found the soft armor underneath.

And I felt entries.

My body screamed in pain as I catapulted myself back into the church. I cleared the doors-

Two more slugs slammed into me; one clanged off the side of my helmet, hitting hard enough to send my ears ringing.

The other hit the soft armor over my neck.

My body went rigid as pain exploded from the wound. I barely registered crashing to the wooden floor. My right hand tried to move to cover the hole, but it was too stiff. My shoulder must have been hit.

Would it matter though? It was a neck wound, and it passed through. Had it hit any arteries? I could still breathe, so it hadn't pierced my trachea.

I need to move- I need to go. Whoever just shot me wouldn't-

A dull rumble rolled through the ruined church.

So that's how it is, huh?

Despite everything the universe had thrown at me, I'd survived. Countless fights, missions, ambushes, wounds, and unwinnable situations. Maybe it's appropriate what ends up getting me killed is when, given the choice between following orders and completing the mission, and doing the right thing, I decide to do the right thing.

After everything I've done, all the lives I've taken, this was always going to be how it ended up. Someone who kills other people should be willing to accept when their number was called, right? This life I've lived for the past 15 years, it wasn't mine anyway; I was just living on borrowed time, persisting as a ghost of my anger and vengeance.

So why, as I watched the church's roof splinter, did despair wrap itself around my heart like an iron blanket?

Unfortunately, that answer was easy. There are so many things I want to do now. People were relying on me, people I care about. If I'm gone, who is going to keep this war from destroying the Commonwealth? Who is going to keep the Gunners from finding Sanctuary? Keep the Institute away from Cassandra and Thomas?

Save Julian.

I wanted something again. Wanted something besides revenge on the Covenant for the first time I could remember.

Now that was out of reach.

As I lay on the splintered wooden floor, the church shaking and crumbling around me, I felt more helpless than I did during the Covenant attack. While I watched the aliens slaughter everyone I'd ever known.

Maybe this is right then. I couldn't do anything during the attack, and now I can't do anything either. Maybe it's karmic that, both times I've wanted to help, I couldn't do anything but lay in the ruins of my own failure.

The walls of the church buckled and the roof caved in, dropping toward me with a finality.

This is me. This is what I deserve. I wasn't strong enough to move on with life then, why should it be any different now?

That thought echoed through my head as steel and wood rained down around me.

That thought echoed through my mind as I felt something hard and heavy slam into my leg.

That was the last thought that filled every part of who I am as blackness rushed forward to envelop me.

This is what I am.

Chapter 32: Wake Up

What just happened?

What the hell just happened?

Nate's entire body was trembling, it felt like his stomach wanted to jump out of his mouth, and he could barely breathe. It felt exactly like when they'd fought the Supermutants before the Brotherhood ambush.

PTSD? Was he having a PTSD episode?

He couldn't tell and he didn't care. His mind was struggling just to process what he'd just watched.

One moment, the church was there, as damaged and decrepit as it was, and the next it was gone, crumbling into nothing. Had that been the Institute? Did Shaun do that? Or was it the Railroad?

Nate didn't know. He could only stare at the wreckage that remained of the building from his spot, hiding in an adjacent storefront.

Damon-

Damon had been in there. He was- Nate watched the odd, golden flare of his armor's shields before the SPARTAN dove back inside.

Who had done that? Who attacked him? Was-

A rustling behind him startled the former infantryman, and, forgetting his broken arm, he spun to face the noise. The movement jostled it and Nate ruthlessly stifled a groan as pain shot through the limb.

"Sir", X6-88 whispered from the shadows at the back of the shop in his ever emotionless voice, "the target has been neutralized. We are to return to the Institute."

Neutralized? Target?

It was then Nate noticed the odd rifle the Courser had cradled in his arms. It was long and bulky, with ribs along the portion of the weapon that would normally be the barrel. The thing looked nothing like one of their laser rifles.

"What do you mean 'target'?", he asked, trying to keep the pain out of his voice.

X6-88 began forward. "I have orders to bring you back safely. Once we return, you will be debriefed."

Nate blinked. Debriefed? What is going on here? He glanced back at the collapsed building, dust still settling onto the rubble. Damon was still under there. Could he have survived that? The only time he'd seen the giant of a man hurt was after falling 50 feet from a Vertibird, but that…

"The target has been neutralized."

"Wait, wha-" before he could finish the question, the blinding white light of the Molecular Relay energizing flashed, and an instant later he was standing in one of its bays.

Another burning lance of pain shot through Nate's arm and into his chest. He dropped to his knees, eyes watering, and dry heaved once before puking what little food he had in his stomach over the floor of the small room.

The agony was indescribable. It was an order of magnitude worse than when Damon had actually broken his arm. His mind was consumed by it, every thought obliterated by the wave of pain crashing over him. Darkness encroached on the edge of his vision and, despite his best efforts to fight it off, progressed. Nate felt himself being pulled away from the world. A dim voice, maybe someone calling for help, echoed somewhere around him, but it barely registered as he pitched forward.

Blackness consumed him before he registered hitting the steel deck.

When the ex-soldier came to, he was laying on his back, something warm and heavy draped over him. His arm didn't hurt anymore. If anything, he felt… good.

It wasn't the first time Nate had been injured; he knew the effects of morphine when he felt them.

He could hear footsteps milling around him, a few people talking in hushed tones, and the gentle wafting of an HVAC system. So he's probably in an infirmary, the Institute. What happened? Why was he-

Images rushed back through his head. The trek through Boston- his home, his destroyed home with Damon. Getting to the Railroad, they were there to wipe them out and bring Cass and Thomas back.

Then-

Then something happened. Damon lost it, said he was done. He broke Nate's arm before telling him to leave.

His mind froze at that moment. Damon- he'd never seen the SPARTAN lose it like that before. Killing the Railroad, it wasn't something Nate wanted to do, but- but they had to… Right? His friend just wasn't willing to go through with it. Why? He'd never had issues killing people before, much to Nate's chagrin.

But the way he reacted, the violence he reacted with. How he attacked Nate. Damon wasn't the most stable person, and at times he could be downright terrifying, but the ex-soldier had usually trusted him to control himself. The armored titan had never hurt him, or the kids. Had Nate been wrong about him? Was Damon more unstable than he thought?

Or had he been wrong to agree with wiping out the Railroad?

Had that been so far even the SPARTAN, who had probably killed more than Nate's entire platoon in the few months he'd been here, couldn't do it. Did his conscience finally put a stop to him killing people there?

The next time Nate talked with-

Loud cracks of supersonic projectiles, without the sound of a gunshot, filled Nate's head. The image of Damon's shields flaring bright gold before flickering and fading. He dove back into the church a few seconds before detonations went off around its outer walls and the whole thing collapsed on top of the SPARTAN-

"The target has been neutralized."

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Nate's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in his bed.

The morphine in his system couldn't compensate for that.

He cried out in pain as his broken arm throbbed in protest. The bright lights of the infirmary burned his eyes and vertigo slammed into him once again so hard he gagged.

"Please take it easy", someone yelped from beside him.

I can't. I can't. The pain and disorientation was just a distraction. He did his best to push them aside and blinked the spots out of his eyes.

"Where's Damon?" he forced out of a sore throat, more of a croak than words. "What happened?"

"You need to re-"

The pile of debris hung in Nate's mind as he struggled to control his breathing.

"No! I need you to tell me what happened or get someone who can."

That couldn't have happened. There's no way. Not to Damon. Not the man Nate watched kill a half dozen Deathclaws. Not the man he'd watched assault and massacre the gang in a well fortified underground bunker.

Nate was losing the battle with his body. He could feel himself begin to hyperventilate, he was trembling, and he felt like it was 40 below.

After his vision cleared enough to see, the ex-soldier took in his surroundings. He was in an infirmary, several other beds, all empty, several pieces of machinery he didn't recognize, a small desk at the far end, and cabinets full of equipment. The only other occupants were two Institute technicians in their white and blue coveralls.

Shaun wasn't there.

"Sir, you were unconscious. Please don't push yourself", the young man with black hair and a pale, unblemished face standing beside his bed said.

"I don't give a damn!" Nate barked. "Get Shaun, or Ayo, or Porter- SOMEONE WHO CAN TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!"

"Okay, okay", the nurse pleaded, holding his hands up, "just please calm down." He turned to his companion, an equally young woman who bore a striking resemblance. "Can you inform Carter Nate is conscious?"

The young woman nodded, staring at Nate, wide eyed. She hurried from the room leaving the two of them alone.

What had he done? He just- he only wanted to make sure the Railroad was destroyed.

What had he done?

Damon- had he betrayed him? Had he gotten the SPARTAN killed? After everything Damon had gotten him through, had Nate been the one who got him killed?

After a few minutes, struggling on the verge of a full blown panic, Shaun, Porter, and X6-88 entered the infirmary.

"Father", his son- his 60 year old son- said, "I am glad you are recovering."

A dozen emotions, from anger to loss to apprehension, swirled through the ex-soldier's mind. "Shaun. What happened?"

"As we discussed, X6-88 led a squad of Coursers to support you in case Damon was unable to destroy the Railroad."

That sounded like bullshit. "But they didn't. They didn't attack the Railroad. They attacked Damon and then we left." The church collapsing on his friend flashed again. "The church." He looked at the dark skinned Courser. "Did you do that?"

"That was not our doing", he responded, shaking his head. "It appears the Railroad detonated those charges to cover their retreat."

They didn't go after the Railroad. They killed Damon, and then he said the target was neutralized. Damon was the target.

Nate's mind was whirling. Their target wasn't the Railroad, their target was the SPARTAN. They wanted to kill Damon.

"You lied to me." Rage won out in the tempest of emotions. "You lied to me. You set that up to kill Damon."

His son's expression was it's normal, impassive mask of emotionlessness. "We did not lie to you. Their primary objective was destroying the Railroad. However, Damon was a major threat to our continued existence, and it was the best opportunity we had to remove it."

"What are you talking about?" Disgust joined his fury. "He was helping you. If it weren't for him, the Brotherhood probably would have won already."

"You did not seem to agree with his methods."

Nate scoffed. "I was pissed at him, but the guy knows what he's doing in a fight. What does that have to do with anything, anyway. He put together a battle plan- if he didn't help, you all would be sitting with your thumbs up your asses."

"Nate", Porter said in that placating, smooth voice she'd used around him whenever he was upset. It was really getting on his nerves. "Please don't strain yourself. I understand-"

"No Helen, I'm not in the mood right now." The ex-soldier fixed Shaun in his glare once again. "You killed your best shot at winning this war."

The Institute leader shook his head. "He gave us the groundwork, and educated several of our most experienced people in how to think for this type of war. That, along with your experience, should be sufficient."

Nate gaped. "Is that all he was to you? A book on how to fight?"

A frown cracked the blank expression on Shaun's face. "Father… my primary goal is the continued existence of the Institute. Damon provided the means to do that, but it was also clear he, more than the Brotherhood, represented a threat to my objective. It is unfortunate he was unable to complete his mission, making our actions necessary, but it was what is best for the Institute."

"What the fu-" The ex-soldier was having trouble processing what he was hearing. "Damon was trying to get home. He didn't like the Brotherhood any more than anyone else."

"I appreciate that", Shaun said, weariness creeping into his tone. "You even agreed you were unsure if he was dedicated to assisting us. You understand better than anyone how he viewed us, our goals, and our means. He may have had no love lost for the Brotherhood, but he also did not like us. In fact I would say he was repulsed by us."

"He was willing to do what we needed him to-"

"Clearly not", his son snapped, patience gone. "He did not perform his role and destroy the Railroad."

"So you decided to kill him?!"

"You agreed we must do what is necessary to ensure the Institute endures."

"Which means we kill someone for growing a goddamn conscience?"

And then it hit him. That was it. The SPARTAN had been struggling with it for a while. Then something happened, a switch flipped after Nate… admittedly exploded on him. Was this all really his fault? If he hadn't done that would Damon still be alive?

"A conscience doesn't necessarily mean they have the correct intentions", Shaun continued, almost as if he were now lecturing the ex-soldier. "They are subjective entities."

Nate swallowed. Hard.

The armored titan- despite what happened over the last week, Nate knew under everything that happened to him, he was a good person. If his conscience told him something was wrong, it was probably wrong. And when he decided to listen to it, when he threw away his chance at getting back to his universe, what had Nate done? He betrayed Damon. He got him killed.

The ex-soldier didn't find it difficult to imagine he was probably Damon's first friend since his home was destroyed. In the moment he needed Nate the most, he betrayed him. He left the SPARTAN alone.

Was that what was running through his head as the church collapsed around him?

"He was just a kid", Nate whispered over the lump in his throat. "He was just a kid, trying to figure out what's right."

"And we are just trying to do the same", Shaun said. "But we aren't only soldiers, we don't only kill. We're scientists trying to create a better, more advanced world."

"How do you know that was the right thing to do?"

The Institute leader shook his head. "I am not the correct person to discuss the construction of a moral framework with. As far as the Institute is concerned, he was a threat, and in order to ensure our continued existence, he had to be eliminated once he turned his back on us."

So your 'moral framework' is 'anyone who doesn't fall in line dies'?

"Would you have killed me if I'd gone along with him?" Nate asked, eyes narrowed.

His son blinked. "Do you believe you pose the same threat to us as he did?"

"N- no."

"I believe it is unsafe to paint us with a single brush and one color. We are not antithetical to disagreement, only entities that can threaten the very existence of our organization."

"That could mean a lot of things."

Shaun shrugged. "Which is why it is determined on a case by case basis." He held up a hand to stop any other protests. "I understand you were close with Damon, which is why I wanted to spare you the guilt of helping plan his demise-"

The ex-soldier's anger piqued once again. Plan to kill damon? "I wouldn't have."

"Be that as it may, what's done is done. This is going to be difficult, as many decisions for the greater good are, but I believe some time to think about it will benefit you. Dr. Porter will be available to speak any time you please." The older man's face softened ever so slightly. "All of that being said, believe me when I say I wish your friend had not made this regrettable action necessary. He would have been a boon for us in the upcoming battles."

With that, the older man turned to leave. The conversation's end was so abrupt, Nate almost felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. One moment he was upset and frustrated, the next his son had dismissed him and left. Is that really all this situation is to Shaun? Regrettable?

Even now, only minutes after remembering what happened, Nate felt the yawning absence left by the towering man. The looming, quiet presence that, despite their disagreements, felt like an added layer of security. One that seemed impenetrable.

And a friend who, in the face of everything that's happened, managed to be both a protector, and a confidant.

Porter offered an apologetic smile and placed a hand on the blanket over Nate's leg. "This is a difficult time for Shaun. He does not like the idea you feel exploited. Please take some time to think. Any time you'd like to talk, let me know."

Then he was alone, with nothing but his thoughts keeping him company.

Shaun didn't like the idea he felt exploited? Well he did exploit him. He exploited his, admittedly strained, friendship with the SPARTAN to ambush him. Nate had messed up. He messed up bad, and it cost the only person he'd come to rely on this destroyed facsimile of the world he knew their life.

"Oh Nora", he muttered to himself as he leaned back in the bed, wincing as pain stabbed through his arm, "how did I get into this one? How do I fix it?"

How many times did they have that conversation? How many times had she pointed him in the right direction?

His last deployment- she was struggling, and after the ambush, after he ran, that phone call was… three hours? Four?

"Maybe it's time", she said in that stern voice only she could pull off that didn't feel condescending. It was odd for an attorney. "I- it's been ten years, Nate. You know this isn't what either of us wanted. You've always been sure of what you were doing there. Do you remember what you told me?"

"The moment you start doubting what you're doing", he whispered to himself, "you die."

"Right. You've served your time. More than your time. Come home. Please Nate. If you're having second thoughts, you should stop before you get killed."

He remembered walking out into the middle of the parade ground as she talked, holding the phone so tight to his ear it hurt. The soldier sat on the concrete, still warm from the hot, bloody day.

The soldier sat there and, as the emotions he'd worked so hard to keep tucked away while he was deployed welled up so fast and so hard he had no chance of stopping them, he cried.

Nora- his compass, his conscience, his strength, his voice of reason… his best friend. She stayed silent on the other end of the call, there for him despite being on the other side of the world. She always knew when to talk and what to say. She was so good at it. Maybe that's why she made such a phenomenal lawyer.

His sobs kept coming, but she never said a word. He could see her, standing in the living room of their small house on base, biting her lip, right hand on her hip, left holding the phone to her ear.

After… he never knew how long, the sobs finally subsided, and he cleared his throat. "Nora- Nora, I'm ready. I'm ready to come home. I'm ready to come home for real."

Silence was all that greeted him, but he managed to catch a quiet, shuddering sigh on the other end.

"I'm ready", he whispered.

"Good", Nora said eventually. "It's damn about time."

The two of them shared a choked laugh. She'd always joked about saying that. Instead of sarcasm though, her voice was full of relief.

First thing the next morning, Nate went to his CO. Martin actually smiled when he told him. That was full of relief too. Less than a week later, before the ink on his transfer papers had a chance to dry, he was on a plane heading stateside.

He didn't go straight home, like he usually did. The soldier walked to the base's dog park and sat on a bench, staring off into the horizon. It was over. After all that time… it was finally over. 16 years, his entire adult life, and it was over. The fighting, the killing, the fear.

It was finally over.

At some point, someone walked up behind him and sat beside him. Nate didn't know how long they'd been there for before he noticed.

"How's it goin Cockroach?"

The soldier turned to see one of his former squadmates, Cook, sitting on the bench too. The massive, dark skinned man was an amputee with a prosthetic lower left leg. He lost it to an RPG a few years before.

Mistaking him for compromised was something that got a lot of the DI's trainees' asses kicked.

"It's… it's going. How long have you been here?"

The instructor shrugged. "15 minutes. Came by an hour ago to check on you."

An hour? "What time is it?"

"Around 1630." His friend turned to look out over the small park, the ghost of a smile on his face. "You know, I sat right here, staring off into nothing. I think it was 10 hours." He chuckled. "The hospital sent someone to make sure I hadn't collapsed."

Nate looked at his prosthetic. The man made a point to keep it exposed most of the time. That hadn't been a good day.

"You know that was my rocket."

He shook his head, still gazing into the distance. "If it was yours, it would have hit you."

Cook's piercing brown eyes fell back on Nate. "You're done."

"Yep."

Something crossed the dark skinned man's face. Was it pride? Relief? Satisfaction? A mixture of the three? Nate couldn't tell, but whatever it was, his old battle buddy sat silently for a few heartbeats, letting the emotion prevail.

"Word's going around", he said eventually. "'The cockroach is hanging up his wings.'"

That got a chuckle out of him too. "Fuck you too, Barnabe."

"No one calls me that anymore."

"None of the wet behind the ears greenies you hang out with now. Still the platoon's best nickname."

The large man nodded, but didn't respond. It was almost like he knew what was coming next.

Another lump formed in Nate's throat. Cook was here because Nora was waiting for him. She was still waiting for him.

"Did I fuck this up Cook?", he said, voice thick. "Did I-?" He couldn't finish the question.

His battle buddy shook his head slowly. "Nah man. It took a while to get it through your head, but you didn't fuck it up. Nora's here for you- we're all here for you."

Nate leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "Why did it take me so long? Why did I waste so much time?"

"You weren't ready", Cook said with an understanding that could only come from someone who fought by his side for over a decade. "A lot of people never are. Just be glad you didn't die before you were. And be glad you got Nora."

The soldier lifted his head and met the other man's gaze. "Did she call you?"

He shook his head. "I was waiting at the house. Thought I'd come find you to make sure you hadn't tripped and broken your neck."

Nate smiled. "You're an asshole."

"But I'm your asshole."

The two of them sat for a few more minutes in silence. This wasn't goodbye- they were still neighbors, they were still brothers- but they were both done now. They were both out.

It was a relief.

Almost as if he sensed the moment was over, Cook stood. "Nora's waiting."

Nate followed suit. "I know."

Cook walked with him the two miles to his house. As they rounded the last corner, he caught sight of Nora waiting in the driveway and his heart skipped a beat. His old battle buddy slapped him in the back so hard, his eyes began watering. "You know what happens if you fuck this up now cockroach."

The ex-soldier smiled. "Never gonna happen Cook."

He began forward and, before he was half way to his house, he found himself sprinting with everything he had. He rushed forward to the best thing that had ever happened to a screw up like him. Rushing toward the one thing that had gone right in his life. It wasn't until he was in her arms he realized, at some point, he'd dropped his duffle.

It didn't matter.

What mattered was her warm, loving embrace. What mattered was he was where he belonged.

Before he knew it, tears were rolling down his face, staining her blue t-shirt. He sobbed so hard it hurt.

"I'm sorry I took so long."

"It's okay", Nora whispered, so soft, so caring it was like the words were wrapping themselves around him. "I'm here. I'll always be here."

They stood there, in the middle of the street, in each other's embrace for what seemed like an eternity. It was the best moment of his life.

He was home.

Eventually, they pulled apart and he stared at her, smiling so broadly it felt like his mouth would split in half.

"I'm home."

Her eyes were red and puffy too. But her smile was as wide as his.

"You're home."

Nate didn't know when, but Cook must have put his bag on their front steps before leaving.

There would never be any way for the ex-soldier to repay him for those years of watching his back, just like Cook knew he'd never be able to repay Nate. But those days were over now. This was his life.

And he couldn't wait for it.

Nate found himself crying uncontrollably.

Oh god he missed her. Nora really was the best thing that ever happened to him.

And now she's gone.

As his mind drifted to her body, being embalmed and prepared for a funeral service, it also dragged the memory of what he'd done back up. What he'd said to Damon after the SPARTAN had trudged back and forth across the Commonwealth to bring her back. He didn't need to do that. He didn't need to risk being found for him. Bringing Nora's body back was symbolic, it didn't do anything.

But Nate had wanted it. He'd wanted it more than anything at that moment. To see her again, even if it turned out to be like everything else since he'd woken up here: a dead facsimile of what he'd once known.

That was all Damon needed though. The only reason he had was Nate, a friend, wanted him to, and that had been enough for the giant of a man to not only do it, but ask the ex-soldier to stay back so he'd be safe.

That was where everything started going wrong. That was where he drove the ax into their friendship.

Dammit. Goddammit. Why had he done that? Damon had just been doing his best to help, to be the person Nate believed he was. And what did he do? He threw it in his face.

The armored titan wasn't Cook, but he was the closest anyone would ever come to his old battle buddy. And he'd probably saved Nate's life as many times as Cook had.

And now he was gone. Just like Nora. Just like Cook.

But unlike those first two, this was all his fault. Damon had just been trying to help because, in spite of everything and even if he didn't act like it a lot of the time, that's who he was: he helped people. For his effort, Nate betrayed him- got him killed.

Tears continued rolling down his face.

The ex-soldier couldn't even blame the rest of the world for this one. It was on him.

He didn't want to talk with Porter, he didn't want to talk with Shaun, he didn't want to talk with anyone. Nate wanted to undo what had happened, wanted to undo what he'd said, and what he'd done. It was an instant, that moment seemed so surreal. One moment Damon was there, the next-

How could that happen to someone like the SPARTAN? So suddenly?

Nate knew the answer, he'd seen it countless times. It was one of the reasons why, despite him taking issue with a lot of what Damon did, he understood the armored man's habits.

Thoughts raced back and forth in his mind, searching, fighting for some way to make things better, to make things right.

But there was nothing.

Damon was dead.

Dead.

As much as he hated it, Nate spent the next several hours laying in that damn infirmary, drowning in his self-loathing. He hated what he'd done to Damon. How he'd made Damon choose his conscience or his opportunity to return to his universe. How he'd sided with the Institute over the SPARTAN.

How Damon had been the voice of reason in that moment, when Nate was so ready to wipe out the railroad.

At one point, Porter brought him a tray of food and bottle of water, but it was hours before he touched either.

Why does she do that? Why is she so insistent on being present for everything? Bringing me food, trying to constantly talk with me?

Damon had been wary of the Institute, and it went beyond his normal, universal suspicion. The FEV was one thing, but the titan had concerns that ran far deeper than that. He'd tried to say something about it while they were on house arrest for his little incursion into the FEV lab, but Nate didn't want to hear it at the time. He wished he'd listened now.

Eventually, exhaustion took hold and Nate, reluctantly, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. He wasn't looking forward to the nightmares that awaited him.

X

Running hurt.

Every impact of his feet on the treadmill's track jarred his still healing arm. That was fine, the pain wasn't anywhere near penance for the massive lapse in judgment that caused it. Damon had broken his arm but, even now Nate could feel the encroaching terror picturing the SPARTAN bearing down on him, it could have been a lot worse. If he could snap his arm like that, the ex-soldier's neck would have been no issue.

Despite everything, Nate found himself mesmerized by the Institute's technology. Three days ago he was in bed, arm in a hard cast and immobilized. Now it was soft cast and a sling. He even had limited use of it.

With the multitude of broken bones he's suffered throughout his life, that would have been a welcome development 200 years ago.

The throbbing in his arm was distracting, but not so much so Nate was going to stop. He'd been sitting on his ass wallowing in self pity, and it would drive him insane if it kept up. Besides, Damon had given him a parting gift, one that, had the ex-soldier listened, he may still be there.

Funny enough, it was Helen who flipped the switch in Nate's head: things went beyond not being able to trust the Institute. Something far more insidious seemed to be happening, and Nate was in the middle of it. The SPARTAN had been concerned Nate's relationship with Shaun, and the… difficult position he'd been put in, would compromise him. Fittingly pragmatic for the armored man, but also, now he had a chance to think a little more clearly, probably correct. The question he had to ask now was where the hell does he start?

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

His feet continued pounding on the treadmill, pace matching his thoughts.

Neither of them knew exactly what it was, but Damon suggested it had to do with more than the Brotherhood. The ex-soldier had suspicions of his own now. Sure, the cult was a threat to the Institute, and they'd need combat expertise to get through it. Now he had his head back on straight (sort of), Nate began putting more of the pieces together. That only left more holes though. Shaun had told him he wanted to get to know him, to spend time together before the end, but a few things didn't add up.

How would Shaun have known when the Brotherhood would have shown up? And if he did, waking Nate up a few weeks before they arrived gave them no time to prepare.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

How had he woken back up in the first place? The first time was when the Institute broke into Vault 111 to steal Shaun and- kill Nora.

No one was there when he woke up 60 years later.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Why had the Institute allowed Kellogg to be killed? He had been their agent for at least 60 years, so why would Shaun allow them to track him down so easily.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Last, if Shaun wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, why had he not just made contact? They'd already admitted they were keeping tabs on them. Why play the mysterious shadow organization?

He continued running, arm throbbing in pain with each step.

There were so many questions, and none of them had easy answers. Damon was gone, and that pain was several orders of magnitude worse than the lances shooting through his arm, but he'd left a message for him. The SPARTAN didn't have the answers, but it was up to Nate to put them together.

Even now, he still found himself almost asking Damon something every time a thought occurred to him. The armored giant had been such a constant force over the last few months, and so, seemingly, invincible, the thought he was gone, that he wasn't there was still so… wrong. His absence left a gaping hole Nate didn't know could be filled.

He would never be able to make up for what happened, and never bring Damon back. That hurt in a way he couldn't express. But he could try to figure out what his friend had been trying to tell him when he- betrayed the SPARTAN.

Only one person Damon spoke with hadn't been involved in planning the Railroad's elimination.

After the eighth mile, Nate was heaving hard enough that hurt more than his arm did, so he slowed the treadmill to a fast walk.

Dr. Li was under suspicion of helping him break into the FEV lab. The ex-soldier didn't know the details, but he gleaned enough from listening to the other Division leaders to know she'd been a Brotherhood scientist before coming to the Institute. He knew she'd talked to Damon, specifically, in private. He also wasn't obtuse enough to miss them running interference for each other during the meeting after Damon had broken into the FEV lab.

Maybe saying they were working on something was a stretch, but she was someone the SPARTAN had trusted enough to work with. That was, at this point, the best endorsement of Madison's intentions as someone could get in Nate's eyes. Especially when it comes to the Institute.

He'd have to be careful about how he did it, but she was the best person to talk with if he wanted to dig up the answers he was looking for. She wouldn't know, but she could help, and he'd need every friend he could get at this point. Nate had taken Damon for granted, just how much he could rely on the man to be the only person he needed in his corner.

The ex-soldier wasn't a politician, but he was shrewd. It was time to use that.

Slowing the treadmill to a stop, he stepped off and, after stretching, began back toward his apartment. He'd take a shower and be done around the time Porter would come calling. He needed to be careful, she was smart and observant. If he let on anything, Nate was sure it would get back to Shaun. While he hated being suspicious of his son like that, what other choice did he have? After what happened?

After stripping, Nate stepped into the shower and let hot water crash onto him, washing the sweat away in a soothing torrent. That was one luxury he'd never take for granted again.

As expected, a few minutes after finishing his shower and dressing in a fresh set of khakis and a black t-shirt, a knock on his door signaled Porter's arrival. The former infantryman slipped the sling back around his arm and over his neck before striding to the door and keying it open.

Stay calm and breathe.

"Nate", the young, athletic woman said, smiling, "I hear you aren't going easy."

He shrugged, and regretted it immediately. "Nothing else to do right now", he replied, wincing.

"Carter says you're making a fast recovery, should be 100% in a few more days."

"So I'm told." The bitterness in his voice wasn't entirely manufactured.

Helen's smile faltered. "Do you mind talking? This type of grief isn't healthy to keep locked away."

Nate almost scoffed. "What type of grief? Damon is just one more person around me who has died. There have been plenty, what's one more?"

"You know that's not how you feel, Nate. Damon was… different. You may think I'm patronizing you by saying this, but I don't need to be a psychiatrist to see the relationship you had with him was unique." The shrink frowned. "I've read plenty about how people who go through combat together form a type of bond most people can't understand. On top of that, he was the only person you knew and were comfortable around after waking up in a destroyed version of your world." She broke eye contact and fidgeted with her hands for a moment before continuing. "And I know you feel guilty for what happened to him."

"I am, aren't I?"

Porter shook her head. "You weren't given all of the information. Besides, it wasn't your fault he chose to betray us."

"Betray us", he echoed. "He betrayed us."

She nodded.

"You know, it really doesn't feel like that."

"This was something we needed to ensure our safety, and he sided with the Railroad." The Shrink frowned. "That seems like a betrayal to me."

"He saved those people, Helen. And then we killed him for it. That seems like we betrayed him."

"Only if it was the right thing to do."

Nate grunted. "What are you getting at?"

"This wasn't your fault, Nate. There were plans outside of your control, and Damon made his own choice."

It was… amusing how she openly admitted he was manipulated. The admission was one of those clues he'd probably missed before; these people really do think their ends justify any means, and that anyone else should agree.

"Maybe the next time you decide to use me, you should give me a little more insight into how I'm being used." His eyes narrowed. "Anything else Dr. Porter?"

Her practiced composure faltered for a moment. Despite everything, Nate didn't think Helen was in any way malicious. He'd seen this before talking with some of the Brotherhood soldiers.

"For the Greater Good."

That should have set off alarm bells, it clearly had for Damon.

"No, I'm here to talk with you as you'd like. Don't feel as though you must speak with me."

His face softened. He couldn't really begrudge her that, she was trying. "Thanks Helen."

The Institute psychiatrist hesitated, her expression uncertain, before she nodded and backed away from the door. Nate waited until her footsteps receded into an adjacent hall before closing the door.

Was he being too harsh? It was this attitude that put him at odds with Damon. He had to think this through; if Nate did wear out his welcome with the Institute, he'd have to find somewhere else to go. That isn't what he wanted. He wanted to stay there, stay with Shaun, but Damon had been right: if he did that, and ignored everything the Institute does, he'd be just as much a monster as they are. Things need to change, and if he's going to do that, he needs to figure out what's going on right now.

The ex-soldier walked back to the bedroom and flopped onto the queen sized mattress. Damn. He'd never get a break. It was the military, then the bombs dropped, then Nora was killed, and Shaun taken, then Damon, then the Commonwealth, now the Institute. If he didn't know better he'd think the world enjoyed poking at him to see what would happen.

Except those 'pokes' were life destroying events.

As minutes ticked by, Nate did his best to push those thoughts to the side. He needed to channel a little inner Damon and focus on what he had to do. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Maybe they wouldn't kill him, but a wrong move would make life significantly more difficult.

Alright. Dr. Li. She might not know much, but she's someone I can probably trust. Who else?

That was the problem: he doesn't know many people in the Institute. Going outside of the Institute wouldn't help much since the only two parties that have enough knowledge to help were both actively hostile.

And he was banned from the two largest settlements in the area.

That left Curie and Sanctuary.

Curie probably bugged out when the Railroad had, so she was a no go. Sanctuary… Sturges, apparently, had knowledge about the Institute, and contacts within the Railroad. He might be able to help. If he went that route, he would be involving them in this mess, and that might be a problem. Nate didn't know the people there well enough to say whether they'd want to be involved or not, and it's 20 miles across open, hostile ground.

If he had Damon-

The ex-soldier forced himself to swallow.

One step at a time.

He gathered himself off of the bed, painfully laced his boots, and left the apartment. Dr. Li is a good place to start. I can move on from there once I've figured out how I want to do this.

Nate did his best to stay relaxed as he walked toward the Advanced Research Division. He smiled and nodded at the scientists he passed in the halls, and kept his pace casual. They'd be watching him. There would be enough reason to be suspicious after they saw him talk with Madison, but it would be easy enough to explain. No point in lying, he's going there to talk with her about Damon.

Trudging up the ramp to the ARD wing's front door, the scorch marks and battle scarring from the Brotherhood's opening salvo were still plain to see. The maintenance crew, mostly comprised of Synths, had been working to fix the damage, but it wasn't finished yet. There'd been a battle going on and he was cowering in the back while others fought.

The ex-soldier despised that. Sure, maybe he wouldn't have been all that useful in a battle between super soldiers and power armored Brotherhood members, but he wasn't useless either.

One step at a time.

Continuing through the carnage, Nate stopped the first technician he could find, an older, shorter man with salt and pepper hair, to ask where Dr. Li was.

"You can find her in her office", he replied, pointing down the hall.

"Thank you…"

"Tyler."

Nate smiled. "Thank you, Tyler."

With a nod in response, he continued through the wing, which was bustling with activity, until he reached his desired destination.

The door to Madison's office was shut. Was she working on something sensitive? Should he-

It slid open and he found himself looking into the room, the Advanced Research Division leader standing behind her desk, watching him expectantly.

"Please come in", she said in a carefully neutral tone.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dr. Li shook her head. "Trying to collect my thoughts."

That probably wasn't all she was doing, but it wasn't Nate's concern. Maybe.

He accepted the invitation and walked over to one of the chairs in front of her desk. Before sitting down though, he asked, "is it possible to talk privately? Just between the two of us?"

The slender, stern faced doctor jabbed a button on her desk and the door slid shut again.

She motioned to the chair. "Please take a seat." They sat and Dr. Li clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Dr. Li-" Now that he was here… what did he say? By now, it would be impossible for her to not know about what happened. Would she think he was responsible for the ambush? It would definitely be appropriate. "Dr. Li, you don't trust me. You can't trust me after what happened." She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm assuming you know about how Damon died." She nodded slowly. "Well… I know he trusted you, and you weren't involved in any of the talks planning- the ambush. That's why I'm here."

"He didn't trust me", she said, eyebrow still raised, "but he didn't distrust me as much as the rest of the Institute."

"That's good enough for now." Nate sighed. "What happened- wasn't supposed to happen. I never knew what they were planning, if I had, I never would have gone along with it. It's not enough to hear me say it, I know, but Damon was my friend, and a good kid. I just wish I'd seen what he'd been trying to tell me sooner."

This time both of her eyebrows went up. "Kid?"

Nate waved the question away with his good hand. "We can get to that, but I want to know why you went to him about breaking into the FEV lab."

"... Why?" She didn't try to deny it.

"Because I'm trying to figure out what, exactly, is going on and I don't have anywhere else to start." The ex-soldier locked his gaze on hers. "What did you tell him, and what made you trust him with that information?"

"You still haven't convinced me you aren't here fishing for information."

"Oh I am, but if you're worried I'm doing it for Shaun, don't be. I'm here because I finally realized what had Damon so on edge. The Institute is even shadier than the rumors would suggest, and I don't think I'm here just because Shaun wants to spend some quality time with good ol' dad. He's told me himself: everything he does is for the good of the Institute."

A lance of pain shot through Nate's chest that had nothing to do with his broken arm. It was a lot worse than he thought possible.

"Uh huh", Madison said, expression taking on a more appraising frown. "So what, exactly, do you expect from me? I know nothing about any conspiracy including you."

Nate nodded. "I know, but there's a loose thread here, and I intend to start pulling on it."

The two of them held each other's gazes in silence, Nate's pleading, Dr. Li's curious. She didn't trust him, and that was the right move. If she did, the ex-soldier would be worried, but he didn't know what to do.

"I had a friend here", the ARD leader said slowly, "someone who worked in the FEV lab by the name of Brian Virgil. A few months ago, the security systems in his lab went haywire, killing him. At least that's what I've been told. I was not allowed to involve myself in the investigation. The reasoning Father, or as you know him, Shaun gave me was it was under BioScience, and Holdren's, authority. Any time I broached the subject with him, he would quickly divert to a different topic. I requested Damon search the lab for any clues as to his whereabouts in return for information on the Institute's methods."

The ex-soldier blinked. She asked him about Virgil? And he didn't tell her? He guessed that made sense, the SPARTAN liked holding things close to his chest.

"Dr. Li, I'm sorry but… Dr. Virgil didn't die in his lab. He made it out, hid in the Glowing Sea. The Institute tasked Kellogg with killing him- that's when we ran across him."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're telling me my friend survived, and escaped, and Ayo and Father ordered his execution?" There was something wrong in her voice. It didn't have the right combination of disbelief and anger. He'd just told her a coworker and the leader of the Institute lied to and betrayed her.

"Yes…"

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because we- I don't have a reason to lie." Sirens were going off in his head. There was something wrong here… His mind was racing, trying to figure out the disconnect. She wasn't in the room when they talked about the Brotherhood captured him but hadn't they-

"Wait. Damon mentioned Dr. Virgil once. That 'discussion' after he broke into the FEV lab, he said he got the password to his terminal from Virgil."

"He could have been lying for cover."

Nate scoffed. "He was definitely lying. Damon couldn't lie if his life depended on it. And we never got a password from Virgil, only the info about the Courser chips. That means he got the password from you."

Dr Li. smiled. "That is correct."

Wait… what?

Now it was the ex-soldier's eyes that narrowed. "Were you testing me?"

"A little", she said with a shrug. "I'm not convinced I can trust you, but if you're willing to part with information like the Institute put out an order to kill Brian to keep him quiet, you're either very determined to gather information for Father, or you're telling the truth about Damon and your intentions. If it is the former, I am already compromised, and if it's the latter we share a common interest." Madison took a deep breath. "Yes, he told me the same thing you did about Brian, but as I understand it, he was captured and most likely tortured by the Brotherhood."

"So what did he want in return? What did you want from him?"

"A partnership of sorts. He was looking for more information about the Institute, and I was looking for an outsider I could trust."

An outsider? "Why an outsider?"

The doctor frowned again. "That is information I will give you once you've proved your reputability. You did just have a hand in getting Damon killed, remember."

"That wasn't on-" Nate began to protest, but he stopped himself and took a deep breath. She was right. "You're right. Sorry. It's just- I didn't want that."

"I hope that is the truth."

It is. "Okay, so what if I said I want the same thing. I want more information on how the Institute works. On some of it's more… questionable tendencies. It's the best way for me to figure out what Shaun has in mind for me, and a better idea of why he wanted Damon dead."

Li unclasped her hands and began drumming her fingers on the desk. "I would ask you what you can offer me. We don't trust each other yet, so there must be some form of exchange here."

What can I offer her? Nate leaned back in his chair. "We'll I'm obviously not Damon, but I can try to keep the other division leaders off you back."

"And you would do this how? They're all extremely smart. They'll know when you're trying to divert them."

A small smile crept onto Nate's face. "Who says I'm going to 'divert' them? All I have to do is give them something more important or more dangerous to worry about. Or to be more specific, they already have something more dangerous, I need to make it the only thing they have time to worry about."

Madison returned his smile. "You want to take advantage of the war with the Brotherhood."

"Yes", he said with a nod. "No one here has ever been in a war. I spent my entire adult life fighting one. I know from experience how easy it is to lose track of things when the fighting starts. There's an old saying: 'a plan never survives first contact.'"

"So what are you intending to do?"

"I'm still figuring that out, but I'll come up with something."

She gazed at him, a thoughtful frown on her face now. "I'm interested to see what you manage to think of. I hope I can believe you. I need help with some of my… secondary tasks as well. Prove yourself trustworthy first; considering what you've done, you have a long way to go."

The pit in his stomach knotted even harder. Her declaration was nothing compared to his own self loathing for what had happened.

"I understand."

With that, the ex-soldier stood to leave. There was an objective, a goal now. He just hoped he was doing the right thing. The last decision he made got someone killed. He didn't want that to happen again.

Nate wanted to go straight to Shaun and begin discussing how they would fight this upcoming war. He didn't want to wait. That would be the wrong call though. He needs some peace and quiet to come up with a plan. There was no need for Dr. Li to tell him the division leaders, and Shaun, were incredibly intelligent. More so than him. The only places he had the advantage were combat and survival. Combat lent itself to some of his more… conniving tactics. When you survive 16 years of active combat, you come up with a few tricks.

So instead of looking for his son, Nate walked to the commons to get a tray of food. He did his best thinking while he was working out, but considering he was recovering from a major injury, and had already been on the treadmill for an hour, it was a bad idea. Next best thing was the solitude of his apartment.

X

"You deemed it necessary to call everyone here together", Shaun said as he and the other division leaders gathered in their dedicated conference room. The room Damon had spent the week prior to- the ambush putting together a battle plan. Nate was glad he had been there to watch and study. Despite having been on active duty longer than the SPARTAN, the way his mind worked was truly incredible. From what the ex-soldier could gather, he never fought this type of battle, but the way he absorbed and analyzed everything spoke volumes about how bright he was.

It also spoke volumes about how backasswards his childhood had been. Maybe that was part of the reason whoever turned him into that wanted children. You teach a kid how to fight a war, you make sure that's the only thing they know, you make the best strategic and tactical thinkers out there.

Nate learned more in that week about planning and logistics than he had over the first decade of his military career. Most of it was piggybacking off of Damon's learning. Now he was going to put some of that new thinking to use.

"Yes. I think we need to start thinking about how we'll actually win this war. Damon did a lot of work laying a foundation for the fighting and logistics, but we need to establish our win condition. What do we have to do to beat the Brotherhood." Nate motioned at the map on the conference room table, the smaller table Damon had brought in to lay out technical data, and the computer terminal in the corner. "This is good to start with, we know what we have, what we can do, and how we should fight. We need to implement it now."

"Before we get to that", Justin Ayo said, eyeing the ex-soldier, naked suspicion on his face, "How do we know we can trust you? Dr. Porter has reported you have not been receptive to her attempts at discussing Damon's termination. How do we know you are here to assist us?"

Nate's teeth ground together hard enough to shatter them. He had little doubt Ayo was the one who suggested they target the SPARTAN. One small piece of amusement Damon had offered while they were at the Institute was belittling the SRD leader. Ayo was a pitiable man with a massive inferiority complex.

"Ayo", Nate responded, purposely leaving out his title, "I suggest you watch who you're accusing. You killed a friend of mine and used me to do it." He held up his now healed right arm. "This works now. I'm not Damon, but if the two of us went at it, I'll take me."

The slender man scoffed. "Typical brute. Do all soldiers resort to violence and threats?"

"Just with insecure pricks like you. You love talking about intellectual exercises, but at the end of the day, in a war, you need someone to pull the trigger." Nate smiled. It wasn't a friendly one. "You're too much of a coward to do it yourself, so why don't you listen to people who have?"

The good doctor's face went to its natural color: red. "If we're discussing 'intellectual exercises', why don't we discuss your visit with Dr. Li three days ago?"

"What about it?" He glanced at her. "See unlike any of you, she attempted to reach out to Damon and give him the opportunity to prove himself trustworthy. The rest of you wrote him off as a liability, even though he was your best strategic planner and tactical asset by orders of magnitude." Nate made a point to look around the room at each person there, holding Shaun's gaze for a few beats longer than the rest.

"You want to talk about how you can trust me? I'm the best resource you have for this war now. I'm not Damon, and I'm not a Courser, but I'm now the only person with any significant warfighting experience. How can I trust you? You used me to execute someone whose side I fought by almost every day for two months. Don't think I'm stupid enough to not know what's going on. I'm another Institute resource. I know you're going to use whatever help I provide beyond the Brotherhood. You won't tell me what that is, so let's not pretend you're being transparent here."

This time Nate locked eyes with his 60 year old son and held his gaze. The neutral expression was thoroughly entrenched on the Institute leader's face.

The silence that settled over the room was stilted and uncomfortable, but that's exactly what Nate wanted. He has leverage as long as they need help fighting. Let them make the first move.

Shaun never broke eye contact with the former infantryman, and Nate sure as hell wasn't about to back down. He had too many chips pushed into the middle of the table and he'd be damned if he was going to let this go.

"As you wish", the older man finally said, motioning to the map, "what would you like to discuss?"

Nate smirked. His son had tacitly admitted he was right.

"If we're going to come up with a way to win this, we need intel. That isn't news to anyone here, and Damon established key criteria for scouting and information gathering." The ex-soldier took a deep breath. "We don't have him to do the harder parts, so we need to get creative." He pointed at the large red circle over the airport. "Hitting here won't work, at least not for a while. They're too far entrenched and too well supplied. We need to figure out how to fix that."

"Which is something Damon discussed at length", Holdren said, tone much more measured than Ayo's. "Do you have anything new to add?"

Nate nodded. "Damon intended to gather information through contacts in the Commonwealth's settlements. Contacts he had that I don't. That means we'll need an alternate method. We need to position scouts around farms and settlements to gather intel on who is supplying the Brotherhood and what they're supplying them with."

"That is ridiculous", Ayo said, "Deploying that many forces for information gathering would leave us vulnerable."

"Wow", the ex-soldier said through a mocking laugh. "You figured that out by yourself?"

Before the SRD leader could respond, Filmore nodded thoughtfully. "You would like to limit the number of settlements we post watches to to larger ones that have the capacity to support their supply needs."

Nate nodded. "Infiltrating Goodneighbor and Diamond City will also be important. The Brotherhood got Diamond City to assist in an ambush on Damon and I. That means they've probably got their cooperation too."

"Okay", Dr. Li said, studying the map. "We gather this information not only to determine how to attack, but also to determine how we are to win. We need to know where to hit to weaken the Brotherhood enough to eliminate their main force."

"Exactly. We'll also need to be as active as possible attacking them with hit and run operations to keep them off balance. As long as the Molecular Relay stays secure, we have a huge advantage."

This was where things get tricky though, because the Brotherhood aren't going to sit around and let their strategies go unopposed. They'd be actively looking for infiltrators and countering their attacks. Damon had been dead on when he decided the Institute would lose a heads up battle.

That worked perfect for Nate.

"The Brotherhood is going to adapt as we fight. They made the first move, now they want to see what we do. That means we need to keep the assaults going as often as possible with as much variety as possible. Hit anything and everything, from strongholds to supply lines to individual patrols. We need to make sure they don't know who's going to be attacked, when they're going to be attacked, or how they're going to be attacked."

Li nodded. "And when they hit back?"

"So long as we maintain a perimeter around CIT, and keep the Relay secure, we'll be safe for the time being. Secure production and resource base, and very little risk of a direct attack. We keep a strong guard consolidated here along with intrusion countermeasures. They have two options: wait us out, or find some other way in besides the Molecular Relay. If they do come up with another entry method, it will probably be pretty obvious."

"So you're saying we have a distinct advantage", Shaun said, likewise studying the map.

"That's an understatement. That doesn't mean we can underestimate them though. If they can find a way in, they'll use it."

The Institute leader nodded as well. "Agreed." He looked at Dr. Ayo. "Get Jackson in here, you two will work with Nate on determining priorities for surveillance and we will begin putting together our scouting packages." Nate's son met his gaze. "When would you like to start attacking their positions? What positions would you prioritize first?"

"We need to start hitting them now. As far as positions go…" he glanced at the map. "They started big. I say we return the favor."

Notes:

Well... yes, I did that. I had to think very long and very hard about writing last chapter and this one. It's something that, like I've said, has been planned for a while, but I wanted to make sure the moment felt earned. We're going to learn a lot about Nate (obviously) in upcoming chapters, and there are a lot of questions that need to be answered (both by him and the Institute). Those of you who read The Wounds We Carry were aware SOMETHING was going to happen at some point, but I hope it was satisfactory. Anyway, let me know what you think and I will see everyone next time!

Chapter 33: New Friends, Familiar Foes

Notes:

Salutations and welcome! We've returned with another chapter along this hairbrained journey. For me, Nate's been a character I very well could have written a story of on his own. That wasn't the reason for doing this, but I did enjoy the opportunity it gave me to write from his perspective. He's got his problems, just like Damon and pretty much everyone else in this story, but he's much better adjusted to the world around him, or at least better at hiding the fact he might not be. The next few chapters will also give us an opportunity to better see who/what the Institute is, and the forces at play within it. Aaaanyways, leave a review if you are so inclined, and as always: enjoy!

Nate couldn't get comfortable.

He was laying 20 feet from the treeline of the forest to the north of Cambridge. 15 to either side were Coursers, X6-99 and Z4-19. Another was standing rear guard. The three of them were cloaked, using whatever light bending technology the Institute had come up with to create their ultimate infiltrators. Two of them were armed with the same strange, bulky rifles he'd seen X6-88 with after they'd- after they'd shot Damon.

Whatever those things were, they had enough punch to hurt the SPARTAN, Nate had no doubt they'd be sufficient for T-60.

That wasn't their purpose though; they were there for observation only. If they got action, they'd bug out immediately. It was something the former infantryman had insisted on. Sitting back in the Institute during their first assault was a no go for him. He'd spent almost two decades on the front line. It wasn't the same, being a passive observer, but he wanted to watch how this battle unfolded real time. With his own eyes.

Now they were in position and waiting for the assault to begin, he was regretting it.

Because he was uncomfortable.

It wasn't because of the cool, breezy night, or the fact the dirt he was laying on wasn't soft, smooth, or all dirt. It wasn't because they'd spent the better part of three hours creeping and crawling through the dead forest to avoid detection or the five hours they'd been laying there. It wasn't because he was about to watch a battle.

It was because Damon wasn't there to watch his back.

The armored man was the best fighter Nate had ever seen, and more than that, he knew he could trust Damon to come through in any-

He swallowed.

Almost any fight.

Now he didn't have that security blanket. Sure, he had three Coursers with him, but numbers were no substitute for the SPARTAN's experience and uncanny ability to pick up on any threats in the area. No doubt it was from years of operating on his own.

The ex-soldier glanced at his Pipboy, the bulky wrist mounted computer he'd come to rely on almost as much as Damon. 2227. Three minutes to watch change.

Mind on the mission.

He needed to focus. This wasn't just an Institute assault on the Brotherhood. This was an opportunity. Nate needed answers, answers why they wanted him so desperately. The attack was his first step on that path.

Their attack wouldn't be as simple as he'd originally hoped. The Brotherhood were good, and well drilled. He'd watched their last two rotations, and, unfortunately, they didn't make the rookie mistake of straight swapping their guards.

The crumbling town was far better fortified than it had been the first time around; the prefab emplacements they'd seen at the police station the first time through were spread around the town's borders, armor lookout stations every 30 feet. Several of the less damaged buildings around Cambridge would serve as quality positions by themselves. Most of the roads were still open, but they couldn't risk using those; they would be prime positions for snipers and mines.

On their rotations, they rippled their guard shifts instead of performing all of them at once. On top of that, the relieved soldiers stood guard with the incoming ones for an additional five minutes. All in all, a rotation on the north end of town, between the 15 different positions, took about 20 minutes.

During the deliberation with Jackson and Ayo, they decided they'd hit on the second to last rotation. By then, the number of incoming guards would be minimal, the guards now on station would be getting comfortable, and the last few would be eager to be relieved. From that point on, it would be a matter of a fast, effective first strike to put them off balance, and then the fighting would begin.

The small readout on the Pipboy switched to 2230 and Nate watched the first guard, the easternmost post, shift to allow a second on to their platform.

His mental clock began ticking.

A minute later, the second did the same. Then the third.

At the fifth, the first relieved guard climbed down behind the emplacement, and shortly after, the second followed.

The ex-soldier found himself instinctively practicing his old breathing techniques to calm his heartbeat and loosen his muscles. Can't shoot accurately if you're tense and nervous.

Difference here is he wouldn't be doing any shooting. The laser rifle he brought along for the light weight and relative quiet wouldn't be all that effective from this range, and definitely not against power armor if they showed up.

10th guard shift.

11th.

12th.

Nate checked his rifle anyway. It wasn't just force of habit, battles are wild and unpredictable. If he died, it wouldn't be because of laziness.

It might be because I got Damon killed though, his brain reminded him.

That didn't help.

13th.

One more.

The former infantryman resisted the urge to search the area around them. He wouldn't find any of the hidden Synths.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

In-

The 14th station's new guard appeared in the small, armored box and-

As if the Synths were programmed to synchronize their shots (which they probably were), the 20 muffled reports of laser fire sounded all at once. As Nate watched, he saw 13 of the 20 guards take a red spear of high energy light. 10 of them went down.

Before anyone on guard could respond, and as they'd discussed, a second, smaller volley followed a half second later. This time seven of the ten shots found their mark, and with that, all but two of the guards on the northern portion of Cambridge were down.

And now it was all about timing.

Even from Nate's position almost 600 feet from the town, he could hear the echoes of commotion erupt behind the low lying, weather worn, unmaintained buildings.

Something he'd noticed about the Brotherhood's tactics is they're extremely by the books. While that made them a sound fighting force, it also made them predictable. At this point, they know their guards are in compromised positions; they'll maintain several well hidden watch positions, most likely with sniper overwatch, but the rest would fall back and consolidate forces.

Li had been invaluable for this stage of planning. She wasn't well acquainted with the Brotherhood's military doctrine, but she did know enough to determine how best to hit them. Combine that with Nate's knowledge of Cambridge, having to pass through it for work almost every day for two years, they had an effective kill box.

The ex-soldier began counting seconds off in his head.

30.

29.

28.

Several Synths in their assault force continued to take occasional shots at guards who were no longer there, another 40% would be maintaining position, but remain hidden, and the rest would begin advancing on the town…

20.

Now.

Laser fire speared from several well enclosed positions in the town. Most of them came from deep shadows within half collapsed buildings. As soon as they did, the contingent of Synths they'd kept in hiding began peppering those positions with red streaks of their own. It continued back and forth, but the thing about fighting from a fixed position like a town was you made yourself a target. The enemy knows where you are, and once you fire, it's hard to hide. There are a million places attackers could be, and their freedom of movement was orders of magnitude better.

The sniper fire from the town began dwindling as the Institute forces continued their approach.

5.

Despite everything, Nate couldn't lie to himself; he was excited for what came next.

Suddenly, a dozen blinding flashes lit up the night and a split second later, explosions ripped through the town behind the Brotherhood's fortifications.

He smirked. The Brotherhood just found out the hard way they aren't the only ones who could learn.

Jackson thought it would be a bit of poetic justice to use their own tactics against them. Nate couldn't disagree. The fastest way to defeat any enemy position is to disrupt their defenses. There aren't many things better at that than bombs. A lot of bombs.

It was at this point the ex-soldier wished he had a larger force.

Another round of flashes burst into the night, signaling their dedicated insertion teams. At the same time, the advancing Synths reached the edge of town and took up positions just outside the perimeter.

Gunfire poured from the town, the bombs, and now small groups of Synths sowing chaos.

Unfortunately, this was the endgame for this attack. They didn't have the forces to take the town, not without compromising their own defense force. After talking it through with Shaun, Dr. Li, and Ayo, they decided what would effectively amount to a shot over the bow would be sufficient. Those squads in the town were deemed expendable, and would serve as a stark reminder to the Brotherhood: we can reach out and hit you whenever, wherever we want to.

Despite not being involved in the fighting, watching an operation go off so fluidly was cathartic. It wouldn't happen this way again, but at the very least the warning would make Maxson think twice about the next maneuver he makes.

It also served as a good test run for how a moderate sized Synth force would do against the Brotherhood.

Nate was pleased with the results.

A few minutes later, after ensuring there would be no Brotherhood forces growing adventurous, the forward guard began pulling back. The sounds of fighting from within the town were dying down and it was time to exfil.

Their message was sent, the Brotherhood's aggression would be met with the same. Any time they decided to hit, the Institute would hit back harder.

The ex-soldier's primary goal was also accomplished: he gave the Institute leadership a brief taste of combat victory. Now all he had to do was sprinkle in more, easier targets with more conventional hit and run tactics, and he should be able to keep them occupied. He'd of course be involved with the planning and execution of those assaults, but the busier he kept them, the better.

The better for him, for Dr. Li, and figuring out exactly what the hell Damon wanted to tell him.

Nate reached to his left, feeling for the small radio they'd given him and tapped the 'transmit' button for an instant, the Coursers' signal to exfil.

Subtle rustling came from his right. It was rustling quiet enough that, had he not spent two months with Damon who, despite being the size, and most likely weight, of a small car, moved almost silently, he would have missed.

He glanced over to see the hazy form of X6-88 resolve from the inky darkness.

As soon as the Courser was within a few feet of him, the blinding flash of light signifying the activation of the molecular relay consumed them.

Nate tensed as it did, body still recalling the trip through that landed him in the infirmary. To be fair, the broken arm would have anyways, but it hadn't helped.

This time, as the brilliant white faded into a view of the small, machinery filled room, his stomach stayed in its place, and his head didn't feel like it was trying to turn inside out. Of course, the same thing happened when they teleported out that morning, but that discomfort probably wasn't something that would change with one transit.

Once he and X6-88 moved out of the enclosure, it flashed again and a squad of Synths appeared on the platform, then another.

"Well done", Shaun's voice came from Nate's left. He turned to see the white haired man- his son that was almost 30 years older than him- standing with Jackson, Weller, Ayo, and Brown. "I believe the first stage has been successful."

The ex-soldier nodded, years of military discipline fighting against his exhaustion. One might not expect spending most of the day on your stomach would be tiring. That person had never spent hours on end crawling through a forest before forcing themselves to remain as still as possible, constantly on alert for threats. He wasn't old, but Nate's body wasn't as pliable as it had been in his early enlisted years. The past few months of humping back and forth across the Commonwealth with Damon… helped, but his muscles still ached, his eyes were fighting for rest, and he had to stifle a yawn.

"It was. Now we have to wait to see what happens." Nate noticed a slight shake in his hands that had nothing to do with exhaustion. His heart was still pounding and, despite his fatigue, his body still surged with adrenaline. Why? He hadn't been involved in the fighting. Was it-

He looked around the room as it dawned on him: he might not have been in the fight, but he just returned from a combat zone. It wasn't like his time in the military where, whether it's from a patrol or active gunfight, you had time to unwind. A moment ago he was in the field, watching a battle, and now he's in the safety of the Institute. The ex-soldier's body hadn't known he wouldn't be involved in the fighting, it just knew there was fighting, and two decades of experience told it to be ready.

"Nate?" Jackson's voice broke through his thoughts.

The former infantryman shook his head, trying to clear it of distractions.

"We'll go over this in the debrief. I'll meet you in the conference room in 20."

He needed to get cleaned and give himself some time to come back down.

The SRD trainer nodded.

With the tacit dismissal, Nate trudged toward the elevator that would take him down to the commons.

As he rode it down, his satisfaction began to wither. By the time the doors slid open, it was completely gone. In the few minutes it took to walk through the presently empty halls to get to his room, it had thoroughly been replaced by a sense of discontent. The attack accomplished what they'd intended, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

They'd sent a message, sure, but they hadn't gained anything. The Synths they lost in the attack would be replaced and then some in the next few days, but…

Cambridge had been in perfect position to be captured if they had more resources. Or the right resources.

While the ex-soldier pulled a new shirt over his head, he couldn't help but think they would have had no problem taking the town if Damon had been there. There were so many places the SPARTAN would have been useful. If he'd inserted with the Synth teams they teleported into the middle of town, Nate didn't want to think how much carnage he could have wreaked. How much time he could have bought their main forces to get inside the perimeter. How far he could have weakened their defenses.

The armored g- his friend would have been invaluable, would be invaluable. Not just fighting, but planning those battles.

But he wasn't there now. The ex-soldier stared at the floor, body tense, hands balled into fists. Damon had been a kid for all intents- 20 years old, never allowed to live any sort of life outside of fighting. He was just beginning to figure himself out, beginning to trust people. He trusted Nate and it got him killed.

As much as the former infantryman wanted to lament his absence, it was his fault the SPARTAN was gone. He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, but he was the one who put him in the position a trigger could have been pulled.

Wipe out the Railroad? What had he been thinking? Deacon, Dez, Glory, Jeff, Harlan, Tom… Cass and Thomas. They weren't going to kill the kids, but they were going to kill people they'd grown fond of. Nate was going to make Damon do that for no other reason than Shaun and the Institute wanted it.

"You're no different from the UNSC to me."

His military. The military that turned a vulnerable, traumatized five year old kid into a weapon. Nate was no different than them? After what he'd done, how he tried to use Damon against the SPARTAN's own conscience, he couldn't disagree.

There's nothing I can do, and I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life. I still need to figure this out.

That was true, but it didn't help. It was so simple, one decision: tell Damon the Institute was waiting to ambush the Railroad. He was smart, he would have been able to put two and two together. The SPARTAN might be out for blood after that, but at least he'd still be alive.

But he couldn't do anything about it. Add Damon's death to the shopping list of regrets. He had no doubt more were on their way.

The debrief.

Nate shook his head. He needs to get himself right. They already know he's upset about how they used him, he can't give the Institute any reason to believe he was working behind their backs. The ex-soldier wasn't, strictly speaking, but depending on what happens with Dr. Li, that might change.

Pulling his boots on, the last image of Damon still hung heavy in his mind. The armored titan usually stood ramrod straight, up to his full, impressive height. As he stood in front of Cass and Thomas, almost as if he was standing between The ex-soldier and them, his shoulders were slumped, and his head pointed ever so slightly down. Nate had hurt him. What he'd tried to make the SPARTAN do hurt him. And then Cass and Thomas…

He swallowed, hard, and stood. Nate hadn't just betrayed Damon, he'd betrayed them too.

At this point, nothing he did could be for himself. The former infantryman would never be able to make up for what he did in those few minutes, not if he had 10 more lifetimes to try, but he was going to do everything he could. That starts with figuring out what the Institute wants.

While 'calm' might have been a little generous, Nate's hands weren't shaking, and he was down off the adrenaline high. His mind wasn't in a good place, but he didn't have any more time to fix that.

Five minutes later the ex-soldier was entering the brightly lit, painfully white conference room. Ayo, Jackson, Li, Weller, Brown, and… Shaun were all standing around the large conference table, waiting for him.

"Sorry to keep things waiting", he said in his best attempt to keep the thoughts running through his mind out of his voice. "It's a little strange to go right from the fight to a debrief."

"I understand", Shaun replied. "This is not time sensitive."

Nate nodded. "Right. So let's get things started." He stepped to the table and found a dozen images from the assault already laid out as well as a detailed timeline printed for each of them.

"Where would you like to begin?" Jackson asked.

The ex-soldier skimmed the timeline. It was good, stretching from the initial insertion, to the attack, and the exfil. It wasn't just his activity either, it was the different Synth units, and the resulting effects.

"Who put this together?"

"That would be one of our technicians", Ayo said.

Nate blinked at the small man. "A name would be nice."

"... Isaiah Strong."

"Get him in here."

The SRD leader snorted. "I do not believe that is necessary. We have the information-"

"I'm not playing this game, Ayo. I know you don't like me, you sure as hell didn't like Damon. I'm not putting up with your bullshit any more than he did. This is my operation and my command. I won't repeat myself."

His face adopted it's normal cherry red. "Who do you think you are? Your friend was at least an effective combat unit. You are merely a grunt who happens to have the most combat experience here."

As a brief pause fell over the conference room, Nate had to force himself to stand still. He wanted more than anything to reach across the table and wring the man's narrow neck.

"First", the ex-soldier ground out, "my friend was not just a combat unit. Second, I was a grunt, and I do have the most combat experience. You have none and it was only the efforts of the combat unit you aren't dead. Now. If I have to repeat myself, you will no longer be included in these meetings."

It was odd Shaun hadn't said anything. He'd been quick to shut Ayo down before. When Nate glanced at his son, the older man was watching the two of them with an appraising gaze. It made him feel as though the Institute leader were studying a specimen more than looking at another person. At his father.

"I believe including Mr. Strong in this debrief would be the best course of action", Dr. Li said, driving the uncomfortable, stilted silence away. "These are very succinct, well organized notes. He would certainly be productive in this discussion."

Nate's eyes stayed fixed on Ayo. He didn't like the man, and the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced the SRD leader was the one who originally suggested killing Damon.

After a few more seconds, Shaun cleared his throat. "I find myself in agreement."

As soon as the Institute leader spoke, Ayo relented. "I understand."

While he walked toward an intercom set in the wall, the ex-soldier gave an appreciative nod to the ARD leader. He wasn't in the mood to deal with that.

Over the next few minutes, while they waited for this technician, Nate studied the timeline in more detail. They were, in fact, extremely thorough. He smiled. That meant they could skip his least favorite part of debriefs: fact gathering.

A young man, maybe 25, appeared in the doorway holding a notebook and nervously tapping a pen against it. He was on the shorter side and, as he ceased the tapping for a moment to scratch at his dirty blonde hair, Nate noticed a thick bracelet of some sort around his wrist.

"Did- did you need some clarification on the mission summary?" Strong asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Nate put his copy of the timeline on the table and strode toward the door, a friendly smile drifting on to his face. "Isaiah?"

"Yes sir."

"Nate is fine", the ex-soldier said, sticking his right hand out. "These are some outstanding notes, I just thought you should be here to add any factual information as necessary."

The young man hesitantly took Nate's hand and shook it. "I see."

"Don't worry, everyone's nervous at their first debrief, especially if their work is part of it." He motioned toward the table. "Come on over."

Strong followed him back into the room and stood next to the ex-soldier at the table.

"Can we begin now?" Ayo said, clearly exasperated.

"If you wanted to use that time appropriately, you should have been studying the mission summary", Nate replied, voice cool enough to freeze water. He pointed to the position on the map they'd inserted, five miles north of Cambridge. "I think our teleportation location was good, especially for a larger emplacement. Considering we didn't know their rotation schedules, it wasn't a terrible plan, but the Brotherhood is going to change them now, so maintaining more regular surveillance will be necessary."

"Do you think we will need to make observation a priority for all targets?" Jackson asked.

"That would make sense", Dr. Weller replied, glancing at Nate. "Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this will make them far more careful with everything from their fortified positions to any supply routes."

"Yes", the ex-soldier said with a nod. "We have a lot more learning to do before we commit to any specific strategy."

Dr. Li leaned forward, looking at the images laid out on the table. "Do you think this will give us that opportunity? You're expecting them to change their tactics now we've shown we can hit them just as hard as they hit us."

"Maxson is smart, and a good leader. We may be able to use the same tactics, but he'll have preparations next time. We need to keep them guessing."

"Is that why you're suggesting such a wide variety of targets", Jackson asked.

"Yes. Most won't require this level of coordination, preparation, and execution. That's where I would like to begin with this op. The success rate on the opening shots was 50%. That isn't good enough. Those were stationary targets with clear sightlines. In a full scale engagement, that means we lose."

Brown frowned. "That does seem awfully low. What would be a target number?"

"At least 75%. The second round should be to pick off stragglers, not save the operation."

Jackson and Weller exchanged a glance before looking at Li before the smaller man looked to nate. "We will review the recordings to see what improvements can be made."

Jackson nodded his agreement. "I also think increasing the penetration power of our weapons should be a priority. Three guards were struck but survived. It seems reasonable to think they won't risk lightly armored patrols in the future. That means we'll be fighting against soldiers in their power armor."

"Agreed", Dr. Li said. "I have been experimenting with a few ideas on some of the T60 we recovered from the Brotherhood's assault. I hope to have something reportable shortly."

A small smile crept across Nate's face. Working with intelligent, competent people was always a pleasure. If there's one thing to be said for the Institute, it's they're intelligent, and some are competent.

"Good, I like it. The next phase we need to discuss is the counter-attack response. We need to develop a way for our forces to identify sniper positions before being shot at. Or at least potential positions. When the fighting moves into Boston, we'll get torn to shreds if we rely on responding to ambushes rather than anticipating them."

That's something Damon did better than anyone the ex-soldier had ever met. The SPARTAN had a seemingly supernatural ability to sniff enemy positions out. His type of missions probably beat that into him. It was almost scary.

If only he hadn't been distracted…

There's another reason Nate was responsible for his death; if it hadn't been for him, the SPARTAN would have been paying attention.

"I'm… not sure about that one", Jackson said. "We can program almost anything, but- well we need to know what to look for."

Nate shook the anger and sadness from his head. Now is not the time to lose it. "I'll work with you tomorrow to put a profile together."

"Okay."

From there on, the debrief continued largely on its own. The ex-soldier watched and absorbed information, occasionally redirecting or answering questions, but the scientists, mostly Jackson, Brown, and Li were all very good at identifying key topics.

It was an oddly eerie and comforting experience. He couldn't count how many of these he'd been through over the years. He wasn't in his time anymore, and he wasn't in the military, but some things never change no matter where, or when, you are.

But then as it drew to a close, it hit him. Nate had never been able to escape. He'd spent the majority of his adult life fighting a war. Now he's back. He's right where he left, but this time he had nothing to look forward to afterward. Even when he was in the midst of his military career, not sure when or if he would ever get out, he always had Nora to go back to, to look forward to. She's gone, Shaun is dying, Damon is dead, and the world is destroyed.

His only objective now was finding out why the Institute wanted him, and wanted Damon dead.

After that…?

One step at a time.

It didn't help he was fighting to keep his eyes open.

"We will begin planning our next attack once based on the reactions we see at Cambridge", Jackson's voice broke through his thoughts.

The ex-soldier nodded. "This next one should be a simultaneous strike. We need to throw as many curve balls at them as possible, and we can't let them establish an MO."

"Agreed", Weller said. "I would lean toward hitting a smaller target, like a patrol, outpost, or caravan."

That was where Nate would suggest going. The Brotherhood would be on deaf con 1. Trying to go after one of their fortified positions would be pointless until they can begin weakening their infrastructure.

"We will need to corroborate that target with intel about how they resupply. I think chipping away at their supply base is the best direction we can go. They'll know it, so things will be difficult, hence hitting multiple spots at once."

Brown cleared her throat. "We'll begin putting together… target packages?" Nate nodded. "Target packages once we have enough information."

"Good. Do we have anything else anyone would like to discuss?"

Dr. Li nodded. "I would like to meet with you and Dr. Jackson in the Advance Research Division to discuss some weapon modifications-" she glanced at the ex-soldier. "But that can wait until tomorrow."

His exhaustion must have been showing.

"Works for me."

"I am happy to help", the SRD tech echoed.

Nate looked around the conference table, and no one else spoke up. It was probably because between the slumping postures and slow, lethargic gazes, everyone looked as tired as he was.

"Alright, we all know what we need to do. Latest we should conduct our next assault is a week. We can't give them too long."

With that, everyone, including Nate, began filing out of the conference room. He was hungry, but that could wait. His legs felt leadened as he slogged toward his room. The exhaustion was about to put him on his ass, and he really wanted to be in bed when that happened.

As he neared the small apartment, his mind continued drifting back to the fight, to how the Brotherhood would react. Damon had gotten to see their base first hand when Proctor Ingram had taken him on a tour. There was no way they'd be able to attack the airport any time soon, but maybe he had an idea of how susceptible they would be to supply chain disruptions. If they weren't, they'd need to find a new way of weakening them. That wasn't a type of war he was experienced in fighting. That was, the SPARTAN's area of expertise.

"Hey Damon", he said, turning-

To an empty hallway.

The lump that formed in his throat threatened to block his breath and the ex-soldier's legs sagged in a way that had very little to do with his physical exhaustion. He braced himself against a steel wall and struggled to control his breathing.

Why did it always end up like this?

He felt like he did that night he had to race to the hospital, mom bleeding because that bastard didn't focus on him as usual. Nate couldn't get his attention off her.

Maybe she'd had enough of it too, because she just kept egging it on. The image of dark red blood seeping from her stomach into her yellow shirt, and then into the car's cloth seats. Her quick, labored breathing.

The panic, the fear. The anger as he watched her life spill out.

She'd protected him. And it cost her.

His mom survived, but after that- he couldn't go back. So he left. He ran. Like he always did.

And then he was alone.

Just like now. This time he had no one to blame but himself.

The ex-soldier pounded a fist into the wall.

Running. Always running. He didn't want to face what was in front of him, he tried to block it out, to focus on what he needed to do to help Shaun, help the Institute.

That cost Damon his life, even though the SPARTAN tried everything he could to help until he felt his only choice was to lash back out at Nate. He felt it was his only option to stop something… horrible. It was something, despite all of their arguments, he'd never done.

He wasn't doing this because there was something waiting for him afterward. He was doing it because he owed it to the people he cares about to stop running. Finally. He owed Nora answers about why she had to die. He owed Cass, Thomas, and Julian the safety and security they've never known.

He owes Damon for doing the right thing when Nate was too weak to.

Pushing himself away from the wall, Nate continued hobbling toward his apartment.

There are a lot of people he has debts to pay to, most of them he would never be able to settle.

But he'd be damned if he didn't try.

The former infantryman barely registered reaching his room, slipping his boots off and climbing into bed. His mind was too focused on what he had to do, and body too tired to entertain anything else.

He didn't know when he fell asleep either, but it didn't really matter; he was still thinking about the next move as he dreamed.

At this point, it was the only thing that mattered.

X

When Nate awoke the next morning, it was to a gentle knock at his door.

He craned his head around, stiff muscles protesting the movement, and checked the small clock on his bed stand. 0630.

Who was knocking this early in the morning. Especially after the attack yesterday.

Dragging himself from the soft, warm embrace of the bed, he shuffled to the front door, doing his best to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Keying it open, he found himself looking down at Helen. She was frowning at him

"Good-", the ex-soldier tried, but his voice was so thick it sounded like a grunt. He cleared his throat and gave it another shot. "Good morning."

"Good morning Nate. Can we talk?"

He blinked a few times, waiting for the words to make it to the right information centers in his brain and then waited even longer for it to form the response.

"... Why?"

"Because you've been avoiding discussing what happened last week, throwing yourself at this war and it isn't healthy. I may not officially be your doctor, but I did take the hippocratic oath. It's my responsibility to make sure you're properly cared for."

It's her responsibility to make sure he was properly cared for? Where was that when he was damn near manic after Damon brought Nora's body back? Where was that during the week before they orchestrated that ambush?

"It's a little late for that, Dr. Porter."

The psychiatrist shook her head. "It's never too late to be responsible and take care of yourself."

Never too late? Damon's dead. Nate grunted. "Can you bring someone back from the dead?"

"That isn't the point. You're still alive-"

"I'm still alive because the guy who died kept me alive. You said the bond between people who fight together isn't something you can understand, right?"

Her frown deepened. "Yes, but I'm also well acquainted with grief."

"Ah, right. Well Helen, so am I, and I can tell you talking about it right now isn't going to help." He sighed. Whether there were any ulterior motives, she seemed genuine, and there's something that has to be said for someone who is willing to take that burden on. But these people aren't the right ones to help him with this. It was their fault. "I understand you're trying to help, but what I need is to focus. I've been dealing with grief for a very long time. I know how I react to it."

"That may be true, but just because you've dealt with it however you do up to this point doesn't mean there aren't better ways to."

Ain't that the truth. Nate nodded. "You're right, but I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it considering the circumstances.

Porter's face twisted in confusion before the spark of realization hit.

"You blame us for what happened."

Nate couldn't help the amused smirk. "You think? Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I'll come to you when I'm ready to talk."

She blinked and opened her mouth, but no words came out. The two of them held each other's gaze and the shrink's mouth drifted shut. Eventually she offered a curt nod before turning to leave.

A pang of guilt shot through the ex-soldier as he watched her retreat down the hall. But then he remembered how she helped lead him along, helped push him to the point he was ready to betray the only friends he had in this shithole of a world.

The former infantryman needed to go to the ARD and meet Li. That was his next step, and he needed to continue down this path.

He owes too many people too much to get distracted.

After giving himself a few minutes to wake up all the way, Nate pulled his boots back on and left for the ARD. He stopped by the commons to grab a tray and loaded it with food for the three of them. This probably wouldn't be short, they might as well have something to eat.

The ex-soldier stopped before heading into the halls that would lead him to the Advanced Research division wing, gazing around the cavernous room. It really was a remarkable feat of engineering. With a ceiling so high above him, it almost felt like Nate was outside, and a dozen walkways spanning the open space, he was having trouble imagining just how all of this was constructed. Even with 200 years of time… it was genuinely awe inspiring.

It also meant he hadn't even seen a fraction of the Institute's facilities. So far the only places he'd been were portions of the ARD, BioScience, SRD, and some of the living quarters. What besides the Molecular Relay was in the dozen levels above?

With a mental shrug, the ex-soldier pushed the musings out of mind and headed for his appointment. He'd find out soon enough, one way or another.

Li asked for both him and Jackson, so this probably wouldn't be anything sensitive. That might be a good thing. The ex-soldier hadn't hid his displeasure about what happened, and they all knew there was some conversation between the ARD leader and Damon. No doubt Ayo and Shaun would be suspicious at the very least. Inviting the SRD tech gave them some cover, and they were trying to come up with more effective weapon systems.

The halls were still relatively empty, but a few scientists nodded as he passed in the halls. By now he had no doubt most of the Institute knew who he was and, ostensibly, why he was there.

When he arrived at the doctor's office, he balanced the tray on one hand and knocked on the door. It slid open an instant later to reveal both Jackson and Madison standing at her desk.

The way the technician was gathering himself, and a slight red tinge to his face, if Nate didn't know better, he'd have said the two were arguing.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dr. Li shook her head. "We won't be in here. I'd like to go over a few things in the weapons development lab." She walked around the desk followed by a still miffed Jackson. "Follow me."

Nate stepped aside to allow them to pass. The SRD technician seemed very keen to avoid eye contact.

What's going on?

Following the pair, Li led them through the advanced research wing's branching halls, occasionally passing by a technician or an occupied lab. Without fail each of the scientists stopped and greeted them. It wasn't out of decorum though. The way each of them enthusiastically met their boss, and the energy she returned, it felt genuine.

Eventually they made it to the weapons development lab, a nice codename for what was, essentially, a shooting range with a workspace attached.

As the other two walked toward the firing booths, Nate set the tray of food down, grabbing what looked like a purple apple.

"There are two subjects I would like to address", the doctor said. Her tone suggested there was a bit more… gravity to whatever they were here to talk about than just weapons. "The first", she picked up what looked like a modified version of the Institute's laser rifle, "is this. One of the issues we discussed before the attack, and saw in action during it, was our weapons' lack of penetration. They were originally designed for use against unarmored targets- most opponents encountered by our forces don't have power armor."

The weapon in her hands had a larger body and a strange, pyramid shaped attachment on the front of the barrel. "Right… so I'm guessing that has more power."

Dr. Li nodded. "Correct. The fibers are larger and can carry more energy, and we put more focusing lenses along the laser's path to concentrate it's spot density to-" She frowned. "Testing has shown it will be able to penetrate a little over a quarter inch of steel armor plate with enough energy left to inflict serious injury."

It was Nate's turn to frown. "That's not enough."

"You don't say", Jackson interjected, his deep voice ladened with irritation. Nate squinted at him. The man was normally extremely patient and productive. Whatever had him upset must have been big.

"The other issue is the focusing lenses aren't… the highest quality, so the ones in our new housing", she tapped the odd shape on the front, "burn out after a few dozen discharges."

"So they're limited use and only effective against their standard combatants, not the ones in power armor. What about the other weapons I've seen the Coursers with. Everyone has been pretty quiet about those, and, well, I assume they hit hard since the Coursers used them on Damon."

"Those are magnetic accelerator rifles. Gauss rifles", the SRD tech said. "We only have a dozen of them. They take a lot of production time since the manufacturing tolerances are on the micron level."

Nate didn't speak anything smaller than 1/32 of an inch.

"What level?"

"About one fiftieth of the width of a human hair."

"Oh- oh. Okay. So we're limited on those." That didn't answer his secondary concern. "Why are people keeping them on the DL?"

Jackson grunted. "Ayo wants them to remain a secret, and the fewer people who know what they are, the better, in his eyes."

"He wanted to keep them secret from me."

The other man nodded.

So it was that motherfucker. He had those rifles stashed away for exactly that reason: to use them to ambush Damon.

Oh if he ever got the opportunity, Nate would enjoy wringing his neck.

"Alright, ignoring that for now, we have limited weaponry with which to hit the Brotherhood's primary forces since they use T-60." It's hard to beat an enemy if you can't hurt them. "Have we looked at more conventional weaponry?"

Dr. Li nodded. "We have. Ballistics reports suggest the rifle Damon had, which chambered a high velocity 7.62mm bullet, would be sufficient for any of their non-power armored combatants, and in… special circumstances, their power armor."

It wasn't a 'solution', they'd been all over the Commonwealth and that was the first time Nate had seen that rifle since waking up in this hellhole. The ex-soldier remembered it from his time serving, it fired .300 Winchester Magnum. That was a bad round, but it was rare, expensive, and could be a handful. "What do you mean 'special circumstances'?"

"Several shots to the same, local area, the lenses, or the articulating joints."

"So… it would take an expert marksman to make it work under the best conditions." And someone like the SPARTAN to make it work in combat.

Li nodded again. "Which leaves us with higher powered weaponry, and explosives."

"Most of the heavy weapons will be under the Brotherhood's control…" the ex-soldier mused.

Jackson cleared his throat. "Well, if we know where they are, that's the most difficult part, isn't it?"

The tech was suggesting they raid the Brotherhood for weapons? Nate blinked.

It wasn't a horrible idea… but it would be hard. "Not necessarily…" Wait… Maxson doesn't have the resources to clear the city and track down every piece of hardware out there. If he did, this war was already over. That means if they can scavenge some of the harder to reach areas… they were in business.

And Nate knew where they might find some good hardware.

"Dr. Li, if we had the equipment to make our own weapons, how long would it take to begin production?"

She frowned. "Most conventional firearms are simple to build when compared to direct energy weapons… Our machinery would be more than capable of doing it now, but development would take time."

"We might be able to shortcut that. A while back Damon- Damon and I were supposed to retrieve supplies from a production facility near the coast. As far as I know, it has more than enough equipment to make what we need, and we can reproduce those designs to increase production."

The two Institute scientists exchanged a glance.

"How do you know about it?" Jackson asked.

The former infantryman grunted. "Have you ever heard of Kleo?"

They shared another glance.

"...Yes."

"Well we were supposed to run it for her. We got double crossed and never got within five miles of it. Apparently it's an unknown location in one of the most dangerous parts of the city."

Silence invaded the small 'lab' as Nate's two companions considered his suggestion. It wasn't a total solution to their problem, but it was definitely a start.

"Okay, I think that's something we can act on", Dr Li said with a curt nod. "At the very least it might give us the resources to hit a Brotherhood position and scavenge weapons from them." She set the rifle down. "Now for the second thing I would like to discuss." The ARD leader frowned, looking decidedly unhappy all of a sudden. "This is not something I would normally do this way, but recent events have made things complicated." She looked at Jackson.

"We're really going to do it like this? We can't trust him yet."

Trust me? Trust me with what? He had no doubt it had something to do with what Li wanted from Damon, but there were so many different things that could mean, speculation was pointless.

"No, we can't, but if he's doing this for them, we're already outed. If he isn't, we have a massive opportunity to combine our efforts with the fight against the Brotherhood."

"But we-

Nate waved his hands. "Okay, I think I've had enough of this, I'm standing right here. I'm guessing this is the argument you were having before I arrived."

"That is correct", Dr. Li said. "We… would like your assistance." She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. After a dozen quiet heartbeats, the division leader nodded to herself. "We need you to organize an operation that will occupy the other leadership for at least half an hour. I will not inform you what specifically it is for, but it is a way for you to earn my confidence. I do not know what Shaun has planned for you, but considering what the current state of the Institute is, I am not comfortable waiting to find out. There are two many coincidences and unanswered questions. Our discussion has me spending more time thinking about those unknowns than my normal duties."

"So you need half an hour to do… something you don't want anyone else to see." The ex-soldier frowned. "I'm not a fan of the Institute, but if this is something to help the Brotherhood-"

"Don't insult me. I may have once been Brotherhood, but as I told Damon, their current leadership and I do not see eye to eye. And if I had been acting as a Brotherhood agent, don't you think I would have acted on that before now?"

"I don't know. You're asking me to trust you without giving me anything in return."

Jackson stepped forward. "You don't understand what's at stake for us. The only reason we're asking you for this is because we have no other choice. That should be enough reason for you to believe us."

Nate held the scientist's gaze for a few silent seconds before turning to Li. "I get answers after I do this."

"If everything goes according to plan, that would have happened anyway."

The ex-soldier grunted. "You aren't making this easy."

"You aren't the only one it's difficult for", Jackson said.

If he did this, it would get him another step closer to finding his answers. Nate wasn't sure exactly how, but having allies in high places is invaluable. He also didn't know what those answers might be, but that didn't matter right now. What mattered was he had an opportunity to get closer.

"When do you need this window?"

"As long as it's within the next week, the when is up to you. I understand how rushing an operation can lead to… difficulties."

"Yeah…" A week wasn't much time to set up an operation, especially with as little information as they had, and without knowing how the Brotherhood's strategies and tactics would change. That meant if they wanted it to be successful, which would be essential to selling this as a legitimate operation, it couldn't involve them. No intel on supplies, local farms and suppliers, or supply lines, so those were out.

Unless… "If it needs to be soon, maybe we go after those weapons supplies."

Jackson cocked an eyebrow. "You're trying to avoid the Brotherhood?" He nodded. "I guess that makes sense, we don't want to risk a rush plan into action. Problem is, if they catch wind of us doing this, like a large Synth force in the area, they might figure out what we're up to."

"Can we send a small team of scientists with an escort?" It would be a lot more innocuous if people in the area believed the supplies, if they're still where Kleo told them, were taken by some new group in the area.

To his disappointment, Li shook her head. "Father won't let anyone out of the Institute, especially now with the war happening. I find myself in agreement. If they manage to capture one of our scientists, it would be a massive blow to our security, not to mention one of our people would be subject to tortute."

An image of Julian flashed through the ex-soldier's head.

They wouldn't torture him, he doesn't have any information they needed. If anything, Damon had probably been right: they'd be turning him into a child soldier.

… Like that was any better.

"Coursers can pass for regular people, so long as no one talks with them, right?"

"Any of the gen three Synths can. Many of our non-combat threes can pass for human period." Jackson smiled. "You've probably met plenty of them without noticing. Most of the low level technicians are gen three Synths."

The ex-soldier blinked. "Really?"

Dr. Li nodded. "That's correct, though, with recent escapes, they won't let any threes out of the Institute either."

Of course. "It's never going to be simple."

"Never", the older woman said with a smile.

"Right. I'll put some thought into it, but this isn't charity. I need to figure out what's going on here, so when this is over, you let me in on whatever you aren't telling me."

"Agreed."

"Good." Nate, sensing the conversation was coming to a close, walked over to the mostly untouched tray of food and picked a few fruits from it. "I hope you can help me- I'm not sure where else to go at this point."

Maybe the ex-soldier was being sentimental, but they were trusting him, the least he could do was be open. Li knew why he came to her, and he had no doubts she'd discussed that with Jackson and whoever else was in their circle. Reinforcement was a good way to build trust though, and he- he needed some trust. He needed some after destroying what little he had.

"We know", Li said. "This could be an opportunity for all of us."

This could be an opportunity for all of us? That could mean a hundred different things; if she thought he was an informant, maybe they'd try to play him, if they didn't believe he'd be useful in the long run, betrayal was another opportunity.

Nate shrugged mentally. If they were just using him, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it.

"Yeah. I'll do anything to- at least try to fix what I've done." There was no way he ever could, but it was his responsibility to try.

The ARD leader nodded and Nate took that as his cue to leave the firing range.

As he headed back toward the commons, Nate ran the conversation back through his head. The tail end of it reminded him of something, and considering they were talking about surveillance, he needed to find Shaun. One of the last things both the infantryman and Damon agreed on was focusing what scouting they could on finding Julian. It's been a week and a half since then, not enough time to come up with anything concrete, probably, but Nate still wanted to see what they'd done thus far.

But, oddly enough, he had a new problem: the ex-soldier had no clue where to find his son. He probably should have asked before leaving… Smooth move.

More technicians and scientists were roaming the halls now though. He stopped one, a short, slender woman with almost jet black hair and glasses so large they looked like they might fall off. "Excuse me, do you know where I can find Sh- Father?"

"Yes", she said, nodding. "His office is on the third floor of the Hub." The scientist pointed down the hall toward the Commons. "You can reach it using the same staircase you use to get to the cafeteria. It's just one level above that."

Nate smiled. "Thanks."

"Of course." With that the small woman continued on her way. He had little doubt she knew who he was.

Following her instructions, the ex-soldier weaved through the ARD until he reached the Institute's monumental central hub. The climb toward his son's office was… odd. He didn't know what to expect. Shaun seemed genuine when he told them they would dedicate some of their surveillance to finding Julian.

But he lied before.

Damon promised he'd find the young boy and bring him back. Nate had to before- before he betrayed them. That's another thing he needed to do, not only because he gave his word, but because those kids had already been through enough. It wasn't fair he added onto that, pushing the SPARTAN, someone they were extremely attached to, into almost betraying them to.

Then getting him killed.

Just one more irredeemable mistake on the list.

Nate passed several more Institute members on his way up the well lit, white washed staircase. Most either nodded to him, or offered a polite hello. It was… strange knowing they knew he was their leader's father, yet younger than Shaun. What would that be like for them?

Not important right now. The ex-soldier pushed the thoughts from his mind as he arrived at the top of the staircase. The door to Shaun's office was already open, and he caught a glimpse of his son sitting behind a wide, steel frame, glass topped desk. He was talking with Holdren and another scientist with the green stripe across their otherwise white coveralls signifying they were from the BioScience division.

"-seems to be the best allocation of our resources", his ever calm voice drifted through the door.

"I agree", the unknown man said in a voice that was more than a little nervous. "But Father, if we increase our yield, it would have the same effect long term while improving our efficiency."

"Yes, but we have to consider we do not have time to implement these improvements. That is to mention nothing of the intensive manufacturing requirements while the ARD must focus on this damned war."

Nate stopped at the door as Shaun turned to the BioScience leader. "Do you have the equipment to increase production capacity?"

The blonde haired man nodded. "Some of it, but we will still need more incubators and circulatory pumps."

"I will speak with Dr. Li and see if we can have those made." The Institute leader turned back to the other scientist. "You improvements are a fantastic idea and I commend your efforts, Christian. Please do not stop your work on them. As soon as the ARD has the opportunity to study the designs for manufacturability, we will begin efforts to implement them."

After a heartbeat of silence, the other man nodded. "Thank you, Father. Your approval is much appreciated." His voice was almost… reverent.

As the man spoke, Shaun seemed to notice Nate standing in the doorway. "Father, hello. Please, please come in."

Despite the excited inclination of the words, the older man's tone didn't shift from it's regular, monotonous buzz.

Nate hesitated a moment as the office's other two occupants turned to face him. Whatever was running through their minds stayed well hidden behind poker faces the infantryman would have hated to play against.

"Thanks", he said uncertainly as he trudged through the door. This was his son, and these people were his subordinates, but Shaun was also someone who'd already lived a lifetime he barely knew. On top of that, the Institute leader had already shown a penchant for manipulating people, even him, for whatever reason he saw fit. He has a lot more experience doing it than Nate. What if he tries again? Will the ex-soldier know?

"May we have some privacy?" Shaun said and the other two wordlessly left the room as Nate approached the desk. The large office was mostly bare except for the desk, a few chairs, and a scattering of shelves along the walls. Behind his son was a window that stretched from floor to ceiling and both walls. It overlooked the Commons, with a fantastic view of the multitude of walkways and planters on the bottom floor. For the interior of an underground bunker, it wasn't bad. He hadn't noticed it from the outside though. Was it one way?

"How was the discussion with Dr. Li and Jackson?" he continued, standing to greet Nate.

The ex-soldier shook the thoughts away. He needed to focus.

"It was… enlightening. It, along with what we saw last night… we need another option for combat."

"Do you have any thoughts in mind?"

Nate nodded. "Yes, but that isn't what I came to talk about. I want to put a few heads together before we propose anything." The ex-soldier took a deep breath. He was nervous. He was nervous around his own son.

This wasn't the toddler he remembered though.

"I wanted to talk about Julian, and if there's been any developments on finding him."

Shaun frowned. "Nothing yet, though Ayo has allocated two teams of Coursers to investigate his whereabouts. It will be difficult and slow moving, though. None of our normal processes will work here."

Processes. They really don't think of intelligence gathering and war fighting as what it is. This isn't another math problem.

Giving voice to those thoughts wouldn't be productive though.

"I understand, and I appreciate you're putting resources to finding him."

"Yes…" Shaun's voice trailed off and his gray, emotionless eyes bore into the ex-soldier. He knew Nate wasn't saying everything. "I have heard you are not meeting with Dr. Porter."

"That's right."

"May I ask why?"

So his son was testing him. What was the right approach? Play coy and give excuses? No… The Institute seems like an organization that likes its cloak and dagger. That means anyone at the top of it has ample experience playing that game. Sometimes the best way to beat someone is to bypass their defenses altogether. In this case, that meant not playing the subterfuge game.

"Shaun- tell me what you think happened with Damon?"

"As I said, we eliminated a threat."

Nate blinked. "Come on. I may not be one of your scientists, but I'm not dumb. Let's treat each other like adults."

The ghost of a smirk quirked the corners of the older man's mouth. "Fair enough." He walked around the desk and stood in front of Nate. "We did what was necessary to eliminate Damon. I think we can both agree he was possibly the most dangerous single person in the Commonwealth."

"Not possibly", the ex-soldier said, eyes narrowed. "Don't dress this up Shaun. He was far and away the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth and you were afraid of him. You used me, his trust in me, to ambush him. You didn't know if you'd be able to kill him otherwise."

"That is correct. But I am sure you are aware having to battle on three fronts would not have been tenable, especially with something like your friend running around doing as he pleases."

Something, huh? "Shaun… Damon would have helped us if you'd given him the chance."

"He clearly wouldn't have. He didn't-"

"Attack the Railroad? Yeah, and you know damn well why. Try telling me you didn't do that to lead to this exact outcome."

Shaun paused, studying the ex-soldier with a gaze that looked like he was examining an interesting specimen rather than another human. Than his father.

"Since you seem to have put a lot of thought into this, why don't you make your point?"

"You used me, you alienated me from the only other group I had good standing with, and you killed my best friend who also happened to be the biggest threat to the Institute in your opinion." Nate snorted. "If that isn't efficient I don't know what is. I'm here to help, but I do that with the understanding I will be privy to how I'm helping."

This time the older man's eyes narrowed. "It appears you have quite strong opinions on the matter. What is my guarantee you are here to help?"

"You made sure I don't have another option. And besides…" Nate bit his lower lip and averted his eyes for an instant. "You're my son, Shaun. I wasn't there for you. I want to get to know the man you became. And the Institute seems like the best place to be in this hellhole."

Another moment of silence passed between the two while Shaun studied his father. Nate couldn't tell what was passing through the white haired man's head, but that seemed to be a constant.

"Hmmm", Shaun said eventually. "While that is no guarantee, I believe it is sufficient. Contrary to what you might think, I do want the opportunity to learn who you are, and the best way to do that is to preserve the Institute."

You say that like it's my responsibility to approach this different now. "I think trust is something we'll have to build." The ex-soldier's tone bordered on accusatory.

The older man cocked an eyebrow. "On that we agree. To that end, what is this idea you'd like to plan out?"

X

Nate must be a masochist. There's no other reason he'd keep doing this. He could only imagine what Nora or Damon would think of him insisting on going out himself. Putting himself in the middle of a potential fight, in the center of the destroyed city.

Especially without Damon's ever vigilant presence to sniff out the ambushes that would undoubtedly be waiting for them.

No, Instead of the SPARTAN, Nate would have a dozen Coursers dressed in… well they weren't regular apparel for the Commonwealth citizens which generally consisted of tattered and worn clothes. As with everything in the Institute, the clothes they would be wearing were freshly synthesized and clean. They'd pass at a cursory glance, but anything closer than that would be a dead giveaway.

Luckily, the small recon group they'd sent in to scout the area reported it was largely clear. That didn't necessarily mean they wouldn't run into any resistance, but at the very least it was unlikely.

"Why would you place yourself at risk", Shaun had asked when the ex-soldier suggested he lead the team of Coursers to the factory.

"We need at least one person capable of interacting with people we stumble across up there, and risking a scientist who may have more valuable information on the Institute than me is a bad idea. I was infantry, this is the type of thing I'm used to doing."

"Losing you would set back out efforts against the Brotherhood massively."

Nate couldn't stop his derisive snort. "That didn't stop you from killing Damon."

"I am starting to believe this is a ruse", Ayo said with his usual level of incredulity. "You seem quite upset about the fate of your friend-"

"No shit I'm upset about it", the ex-soldier barked. "He was my friend. It's someone you have a positive relationship with, since I know you don't have those." The shot at the end was petty, but the SRD leader was an insufferable asshole.

"That is not what this is about. You pose a risk to us. Whether you're captured by the Brotherhood, or are working for them, if you leave and end up in their hands, you give them all the information you have on our war efforts."

"And if I don't, this operation is really unlikely to pay off, and if it doesn't we have limited capability to fight them anyway." Nate turned back to his white haired son. "I am the best option we have to go with here."

"I agree", Jackson said. "We discussed this after showing him the progress Dr. Li has made increasing our standard weapons' penetration this morning. Since we have limited use of- other arms, the best short term option will be to utilize high powered conventional firearms. If we can jumpstart our production with these supplies, it's worth the risk."

Shaun turned to Weller and Brown who were standing beside the dark skinned man. "Do you two agree?"

Weller responded with a nod, but Brown hesitated. Her eyes darted between Nate and Ayo, clearly unsure of whether she should disagree with her boss. When they settled on him, he knew her answer.

"I see the reasoning behind it, but I am inclined to agree with Dr. Ayo. You are an extremely important asset to the Institute and it's war effort. Risking your life would leave us without our most experienced combatant."

"There are plenty of ways to minimize the risks", Madison said, "but the repercussions of not doing something to increase our fighting capacity would be dire. We barely survived a small incursion, mostly due to the efforts of a man we no longer have access to." She shot Ayo a glare.

The SRD leader scoffed. "A man you had break into the FEV lab-"

"You are still making spurious claims, Ayo."

"And how do we know you aren't sending him out there to be captured by the Brotherhood?"

Nate cleared his throat. This didn't need to go that direction, the fewer questions they asked, the less time they spent interested in Li, the better. "It was my idea which is one of the reasons I'm volunteering to be the one who takes this risk. Besides, I know this city better than anyone here. Just like with fighting, a physical map is useful, but first hand knowledge will always be better."

"Dr. Ayo", Shaun said, turning to the man who, ostensibly, was in command of their most elite forces, "can you guarantee the safety of this operation? I need to know my father will not be placed in undo danger."

The small man, after a moment, tore his glare from Dr. Li and met Shaun's gaze. "The Coursers are more than capable of doing so. We have, after all, designed them to be the best combat units available."

"Uh huh", Nate muttered under his breath.

Shaun nodded. "Good. As Dr. Li stated, we do not have any evidence to suggest she is responsible for the FEV lab breach, and it does not help our cause to be at each others' throats."

No one else responded, and Madison seemed happy to refocus the conversation on the matter at hand.

"If we've agreed I'm going then", the ex-soldier said before Ayo could make any other accusations, "we need to come up with a plan. The last time I was there with Damon, we were ambushed twice. First thing is a recon team to clear the immediate area and secure an insertion point, preferable near the target and in a secluded location."

"Considering the goal is to maintain secrecy, we also need to ensure if there are any witnesses, they are subdued, be that captured or killed", Dr. Li said.

Killed. They would most likely resort to lethal force.

Nate shook his head. "No killing unless absolutely necessary. On the chance we run into opposition, if we kill them and word gets out, we'll have even more trouble moving and operating, especially in the city."

"Our standing surveillance has also reported an increased presence of Supermutants in the city", Ayo said, the firm, clipped tone suggesting he didn't like what he was saying. "I find myself in agreement with Nate; the less attention we draw the better. The reconnaissance force will be constituted of Coursers. They can use their stealth capabilities to covertly scout the area."

"Okay", the former infantryman said, "get a squad together and we'll come up with a target location."

The SRD leader glared at Nate as he finished the order. Ayo had a massive inferiority complex, and he clearly didn't like taking commands from anyone but Shaun. Tough luck, this is Nate's show, and until something happens to change that, Ayo could get on board or get left behind. He is responsible for planning Damon's death after all, even if it was the ex-soldier who could have changed that. The younger man had every reason to dislike Ayo, but until it became a hindrance, he'd allow the man's continued contribution. He was a soldier.

Nate adopted the tone Martin used to call his 'shifting voice'. The joke was he did it to put someone's ass in gear. "Dr. Ayo, I won't repeat myself."

Silence dragged on for a few more heartbeats before the smaller man sneered. "As you wish, sir."

Half tempted to throttle him as the division leader turned to leave, Nate took a deep, steadying breath. Maybe he'd get his revenge on the man someday. That wasn't today though; he isn't Damon, he needs more resources before doing anything.

Turning back to the table with the large map laid across it, he began studying the segment of the city he remembered Kleo's men circling.

Pointing to it he said, "do we have any preliminary information on this area?"

"Before we go there", Shaun interrupted, "I would like to ask why you are also asking us to coordinate and deploy our reconnaissance teams at the same time. It seems our attention should be on this operation considering its criticality."

Nate couldn't tell him the actual reason, the more moving parts they had, the more space Li and her people would have to move, but there was a strategic one as well.

"If the Brotherhood has a way to tap into the Molecular Relay network, we don't know what else they're capable of. If they can track it, sending only one party out would light up like a flare."

"But they don't", Weller said, "If they did, they would have known where we put our forces before the assault on Cambridge."

The ex-soldier silently cursed and had to resist the urge to glance at Jackson for help. Whatever else could be said about Institute scientists, they're sharp.

"It's possible they don't, but we can't know for sure yet." He held up a hand to head off whatever retort the man had. "We might have been lucky a thousand different ways, but there's no point taking that risk with such an important operation. The more diversions we have up there the better." Nate looked at his son. "Besides, this works in the recon force's favor as well: we're getting them in the field, and giving them the same sort of cover."

Their first round of recon forces were a dozen two man teams of Coursers. It was a significant portion of the SRD's units, but they could be used for more than information gathering. If a team came across a place of interest, and it was vulnerable, they had the ability to engage.

Soon enough they would be putting more conventional units in the field as well, but that will take time. For now the Coursers are already well versed in surveillance and espionage, and they were their best option.

Shaun nodded. "I believe this is something we can handle." The older man turned to Weller, Brown, and Jackson. "Do we have a timetable established for their deployment?"

The dark skinned man nodded. "Yes. After this topic came up in our discussion this morning, I put those together, assuming some leeway for the recovery team."

"Good. Let's prepare those teams to deploy as well."

Jackson nodded a little too eagerly. "On it."

"So", Nate said, "back to this mission."

Two hours of planning, and eight of waiting for the recon force to depart and report back later, Nate was standing in a Molecular Relay bay, butterflies in his stomach. He was nervous. Very nervous. The last time he was in this area of the city, he'd been shot, almost killed. And that was with Damon watching his back. Maybe the Coursers were good enough to keep him safe, but he didn't trust them. At least not the way he trusted Damon.

I've already decided to do this, so focus on what I need to do, forget about the rest.

Nate wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get back in the Zone, not like he did during his years in service. That was broken after watching his sister platoon ambushed.

But his best bet for figuring out exactly what's going on was getting as close as he could.

He owed it to Nora and Damon

Notes:

Ah yes, another double entendre chapter title. There are several important, even key, developments in this chapter and I hope I'm doing the events here justice. Nate is (clearly) having a lot of problems, but like all of us, he's doing his best in the absolutely FUBAR situation he's found himself in. That's all for today, I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 34: The Price of Responsibility

Notes:

I don't have much to ramble about before getting into the chapter this time, but I would like to say, once again, thank you to everyone for taking the time to read this story. It's sort of ballooned into something a lot bigger than I ever originally intended, but I've grown attached to it, and I hope the characters and story have grown on you as well. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined, and as always, enjoy!

The fading light of the teleportation flash was different. It lingered, and wherever he was reflected it back at the former infantryman.

Blinking away the spots swimming through his vision, Nate began studying the target location. It was a large, half collapsed room with crumbling stands, shelves, and counters that made it seem like this was some sort of grocery store about 200 years ago. Some items were still on the shelves- some sort of food maybe? He couldn't tell, the packages were too far degraded. The ceiling a dozen feet above him was intact apart from the light fixtures that were now scattered in pieces across the floor. All in all, it seemed like a good insertion point.

Surrounding him, a half dozen Coursers were gathering their bearings as well, swinging their weapons, those gauss rifles as Jackson called them, around the room. It was odd to see the Institute hunters dressed in anything but their customary long black armored jackets. Each of them was carrying a large backpack and on the ground between them were three three foot square boxes with lifting equipment. Everything they'd need to gather their supplies. Hopefully.

A few seconds later, another Synth appeared in front of them, as if melting out of the long neglected storefront's shadows. How Damon managed to track one of them down when they had that kind of technology was beyond Nate.

"The area is clear for now", the squat, light skinned Courser said. He motioned toward the front of the store, his new brown jacket rustling uncomfortably loud as he did. "Please follow us quickly. We have heard gunshots nearby, and an explosion that may have been one of the Supermutant suicide bombers."

Suicide bombers?

That wasn't the time for wondering and speculation. They needed to be in and out.

"Lead the way."

X6-88, apparently his appointed guardian, stepped to Nate's side as the recon squad member X5-15, he recalled, slipped toward the dark street outside. Night vision wouldn't go amiss here. That and a suit of power armor.

And the SPARTAN.

Focus.

Yes. Focus. The infantryman pulled the laser rifle he was carrying into his shoulder, scanning the street outside, pushing the thoughts of Damon and the ambush from his mind.

"The street is clear", the lead Synth whispered and they stepped through the broken, crumbling face of the store into the night.

It had been a while since he was in this part of the city- before the bombs fell that is. Nate took a moment to orient himself and imagined a map of the area. Looking up at the half collapsed skyline, he tried to position them relative to any landmarks he could recognize…

Okay- this is good.

From the looks of it, they'd inserted about a quarter mile from the factory. Maybe that was a sign of good things to come? Nate almost laughed. A promising start to any op meant a shitstorm was waiting for them down the line.

The ex-soldier glanced back to see the others jumping their gear, following closely behind.

"We're good."

"Understood", the recon squad member replied in that still disconcerting, robotic voice.

He repeated the instructions and, after a moment, waved for them to follow. Their reconnaissance forces would scout ahead of them, unburdened by the packs and containers, to clear the area.

After taking a deep breath of the crisp, unfiltered air, Nate started after the lead Synth. The rest of the Coursers spread out along the west side of the street. It was almost impossible to avoid making any noise with the amount of rubble and debris strewn across the sidewalk, but they all did well enough.

Despite trying the ex-soldier's damndest to push himself back into the insulated sphere that managed to keep him calm through countless firefights, Nate felt his heart begin pounding as the darkness and silence wrapped themselves around the small group like a thick, smothering shroud.

It was nothing new to the ex-soldier. No matter how much he lied to himself, and other people did the same, this was the worst part of any operation. They were sneaking through a dead city, an unclearable number of firing positions in the crumbling buildings around them. Shooters could be watching from any number of those broken windows, and they wouldn't know it until someone got shot.

This is where he missed having the SPARTAN around. Twice during their ill-fated escapade through the city for Kleo, Damon, somehow, sniffed out ambushes. He may not have stopped Nate from being shot at the second one, but it was his sixth sense for finding enemy positions, and his inhumanly fast reactions, that kept the two of them alive.

These Coursers were, supposedly, good, but they didn't have the armored titan's experience or instincts. They also couldn't have cleared half the buildings around them if they had a week.

Distant gunfire sounded somewhere to their south, but it was nowhere near them.

Even so, Nate felt adrenaline tease into his bloodstream. The itchy, restless energy crept its way into his arms and he subtly shook them out dispel the discomfort. He hated being the jumpy one.

Their plodding journey continued into the night. It wasn't a long one, but it felt like the walk dragged on far longer than the five minutes it should to get there. It was nerves and Nate knew it. He was nervous, and uncomfortable, in the middle of hostile territory with no one he trusted. That's what he signed up for though, and he'd need to deal with it.

The dead, decrepit city he had called home his entire life didn't do his discomfort any favors. Walking through a post-apocalyptic facsimile of his city had been hard the first time. It hadn't gotten any easier.

Reaching the corner onto the street where their target lay, the small group came to a stop. They were, undoubtedly waiting for a report from the recon squad. It didn't take more than a few seconds before the lead Synth waved the rest of them forward.

As they crept around the broken structure in front of them, Nate spotted their query: a large machine shop set between a half collapsed tower, and an even larger factory. Kleo had said the processing center was for… fish maybe? The ex-soldier didn't remember, but it didn't matter. For now the only concern was gathering what they could as quickly as possible.

Despite his misgivings, the short journey down the rubble strewn street happened without incident. The non-descript front face of the building was mostly intact, but the entrance hung ajar, edge of the steel door glowing from whatever they'd used to cut through it.

"It's secure", the recon squad member whispered.

Nate nodded. "Let's move."

Entering the machine shop, the ex-soldier found himself thrust into darkness. It wasn't until he heard the door clang shut he pulled one of his chemical light sticks out of a pocket and cracked it into life. It's sickly green illumination spilled across the interior of the factory, and he found himself looking at a collection of workstations that, surprisingly, looked largely untouched.

A spark of excitement flitted through his stomach as he scanned the interior. Everything from a simple, manual lathe to CNC machining equipment and several, larger apparatuses he didn't recognize were set in organized rows throughout the shop. Most of them even had their tools still set on carts or, he assumed, in the rusting toolboxes nearby. They had to cut the lock off the door to get inside, and looking around at the thick, undisturbed layer of dust across everything, they were the first people inside the building in a very long time.

It made an odd sort of sense: most people wouldn't be able to make use of the equipment here, and even if they could, the building hadn't had any markings on the outside. Considering how dangerous this area was supposed to be, it probably wasn't worth it to scavenge.

Unless you had prior knowledge about it.

"Start packing", Nate whispered to the Coursers around him.

The Synths around him exploded into action. He didn't need to direct them; Dr. Li uploaded the items they needed and their schematics before they'd left. Instead, he made himself useful and began helping X6-88 remove tooling from one of the CNC machines. He was no expert, but it looked like the equipment they were working with was used to produce barrels.

Excitement had replaced his discomfort at this point. It seemed like the target was a good one, and with the disassembly of their piece, he and 88 stowed the fixtures and tools in one of the large crates and began packing some of the hand tools into Nate's backpack. The other Synths were similarly occupied, moving equipment or packing their findings. The recon squad was still on watch, so if anything did-

"We have a contact", one of the Coursers said. Nate turned to see the one who had broken off of the recon squad slipping toward him.

The ex-soldier groaned. My thoughts must be cursed now too.

"Details."

Their response was delayed a moment, probably collecting information from the Synths on watch.

"It appears to be several people, they are armed, and heading this way."

Nate's stomach did a flip. "Do we know if they're coming to this building?" If they were, he needed to intercept them before they got there.

"Unclear at this time."

Dammit. "Do we know how long it will be before everything we need is packed?"

"At least five more minutes."

At least that was some good news. Five minutes isn't long to hold a position as defensible as this, especially since they didn't need to go anywhere to extract.

"What would you like to do?" The Courser asked after several seconds of relative silence.

What I came along to do. "Stay hidden and hold your fire."

Still cursing his habit of jinxing missions, (why had he thought about that?) the infantryman stalked toward the front of the factory, X6-88 beside him.

"What is your intention?" the Synth asked.

"Talk."

"I must advise against this course of action. Placing yourself in danger is not the optimal solution for this situation."

Nate glanced at the Courser. "An optimal solution would be to never have been found. I'm not dumb enough to go out into the street if that's your concern."

"It was."

Of course it was. "Good", he said with a nod. "Then there's nothing for you to worry about.

As they reached the front door, Nate turned back to X6-88 and asked. "Where are they now?"

A short conversation with one of the Coursers on watch later, he said, "Nearing the front of the factory."

"So we're sure they're coming here now."

"Affirmative."

The butterflies that had been flitting around the ex-soldier's stomach since landing back in the city were still there. He hated himself for it. 16 years serving, most of the time in urban combat zones, and now he's nervous? What the hell is that?

There was no time to focus on that now. "Give me some space."

88 hesitated a moment before creeping away, staying close enough to maintain sightlines on the door, but far enough they wouldn't both be caught by gunfire.

Deep breath in.

Slowly push out.

Deep breath in.

Slowly push out.

Uneasiness still frayed the edges of his nerves.

Nate banged twice on the door and shouted. "Whoever's outside, we don't want any trouble, we're just here for some supplies."

Under most circumstances, this was a really dumb idea. They were trying to be quiet and maintain as small of a presence as possible. Pounding on metal and shouting is a great way to ring the dinner bell. The difference here is they'd already been spotted, and they were almost done. Maybe if they actually had to leave the factory to get back to the Institute, he would have approached it differently, but being able to teleport had its perks.

Scrambling from the street beyond made its way through the thin steel walls of the shop. The ex-soldier's legs coiled as he prepared to throw himself to the ground. Anything larger than a .22 would go straight through, and for as much as he wanted to help, and wanted to keep anyone who stumbled across them alive, he wasn't trusting them.

And he didn't want to take another bullet.

"Who's in there!" someone yelled back.

"Just some people looking for a few things. We'll be out of your hair in a few minutes."

"Oh yeah? What are you lookin' for?" The voice was scratchy, way too scratchy. It reminded Nate of… what was his name? The 'mayor' of Goodneighbor-

John Hancock.

The ex-soldier smiled. At least someone had a sense of humor. He'd been a Ghoul. One of the regular ones. Is that what this guy was?

"Equipment to make a few things we need, nothing to write home about."

"Is that why you're sneakin' around in the middle of the night to get it?"

Why was this guy so curious? "What's it to you? This place has been around for a while. We aren't here to fight so please just let us gather what we need and go."

"So it isn't just some random odds and ends, which means it's valuable."

…Shit. Whoever this guy was, he's more concerned with money than fighting. Why did he always have to get the fun ones?

"Sir, I said we don't want to fight, not that we can't. I think both of us will be a lot happier if everyone goes back home with the same holes they came here with. Whatever you think you can get from the equipment in here, it isn't worth someone's life."

"If that's the case, why are you willin' to die for it?"

I'm not. That's why a dozen Coursers are here with me. "It's more important to me than something to sell. Plus, you don't even know what's in here."

"I know it's important enough for you to risk your life comin' to a place like this. That's good enough for-"

BANG!

A gunshot exploded into the night and Nate's heart tried to leap from his chest as he dove away from the door.

What felt like an instant later, a barrage of others rained down from somewhere outside, followed by shouts of panic and rage.

Who the hell fired? The ex-soldier turned to X6-88, fury mounting. There was still-

It wasn't one of the Coursers. That had been a conventional firearm. They were all carrying laser weapons or gauss rifles. Whoever was out there shooting, it wasn't them.

"Do we know what that is?" he asked, scrambling toward the back of the factory, and better cover.

"Negative", the Synth shouted over the battle outside. "It is coming from the north, but the units on watch do not have a visual."

They made it back to the main effort where half of the Coursers were collecting the equipment in a pile on the floor, and the other half were taking positions for a potential fight.

"Are we done here?"

"Three more minutes."

Of course.

The ex-soldier retreated toward the rear of the factory, taking cover behind what might have been a CNC mill at one point.

"We're here for this equipment. That's all. Z0-54."

"Yes sir", came the monotonous, emotionless response.

"Have the recon squad stay on watch. I want to know what's attacking them." It wasn't Brotherhood, so who else decided to try their luck? Another group in the area? It seemed unlikely considering the brash approach. These people seemed to think they owned the place. Maybe someone was trying to muscle in on their territory. Awfully bold way of doing it.

"Understood."

Sounds of the gunfight continued reverberating through the factory while the half dozen Coursers who were still collecting material hurried to complete their tasks. They were, by all accounts including Damon's, very good fighters, so he had little doubt they could win whatever battle was happening outside. The last thing they needed right now though was another reason for the people in the Commonwealth to come after them.

As the last of their take was collected, the gunfire began petering out. Nate couldn't tell who was winning, but it was about time for them to bug out.

"Sir", Z0-54 called, "it is Supermutants."

Nate's gut clenched and his hands tightened around his laser rifle.

Supermutants. The last time he'd been face to face with one, he'd lost it and blown the damn thing's head off. He hadn't seen what they'd done in the West Everett Estates where Cass, Thomas, and Julian were, but he'd heard enough.

"Are they going to win?"

"It appears that way."

The ex-soldier chewed on his lower lip. He wanted to order the recon squad to open up on those green skinned motherfuckers, to blow them back to whatever hellhole they came from.

Then he remembered that hellhole, at least for some of them, was the Institute. The FEV lab. The thing where everything started to go wrong.

Where he refused to acknowledge his son was authorizing experiments on innocent people.

Not the time. Nate shook his head. They were here for the equipment, and that's it.

"Are we ready to exfil?"

There was a brief pause before X6-88 called back, "affirmative."

"Let's get the hell out of here then."

An instant later, the blinding flash of the Molecular Relay enveloped him and in the next instant, Nate was crouching in one of the teleportation rooms.

It was a… dizzying experience yet again, to go from being a few feet away from a firefight, to the complete safety of the Institute. Instead of the decrepit remains of a pre-war factory, he was beside his self-appointed escort surrounded by new, glistening machinery. The feeling was the same as when they returned from the assault on Cambridge; his body was expecting a fight, prepared for a fight.

But there was none to be had. No more bullets flying, no more imminent danger, no more threats. His body didn't know that though. Adrenaline was still pumping, his hands still shook ever so slightly, and he could feel his heart beating its way out of his chest. How the hell was he supposed to get used to that.

The two of them rushed from the platform as more flashes of light erupted from the other relays and more Coursers, and equipment, piled in. It wasn't more than 20 seconds before the room was full to the point of discomfort.

Nate weaved his way through the crowd of Coursers depositing their haul before pulling more from the small bays. A dozen technicians were waiting for the last of the supplies to be recovered before they'd whisk it off to the ARD. The ex-soldier would be lying if he said he wasn't excited. They'd, hopefully, gathered the supplies they needed and would have a more effective way to fight the Brotherhood.

That was one step closer to figuring out what the hell is actually going on here. Sure this may help the Institute, but that also meant Nate was staying safe and alive. For now.

Finally extracting himself from the throng of bodies, the infantryman found his way into one of the adjoining halls and took a deep breath. He leaned against one of the steel walls and bent over to grab his knees. The queasy, itchy feeling in his arms was worse than ever, and they were trembling along with his legs. Nate hadn't been that nervous about a gunfight in a long time. One he hadn't even been involved in. His chest felt like it was being crushed, and breathing was labored and tight. His mind flashed back to the Supermutants he and Damon had attacked. How the SPARTAN ripped through them so fast, Nate had barely managed to empty half a magazine before the fight was over. How he completely lost control once he was face to face with one. How-

Stop.

Breathe.

Deep breath in.

Slowly push out.

"What happened?" Jackson's voice came from behind him.

If it had been a decade earlier, Nate might have been embarrassed about someone sneaking up on him in his present state. That type of bravado was for people who didn't have better things to worry about.

"We-" the ex-soldier started, words shaky. He took another deep breath to calm himself. Or at least try. "We were found by a group that lives in the area, but Supermutants attacked them." Another deep breath. "Damon… wasn't the only one that had issues with those giant bastards." He looked at the technician. "What about you?"

Jackson stiffened. "The production facilities are set to receive the equipment you recovered. I'm sure Dr. Li will want to meet with us about the implications once things are sorted." His voice was even more wooden than his posture.

Despite fighting with his own body, Nate couldn't help but roll his eyes. I'm not that stupid.

"We were talking about the weapons, Jackson."

The dark skinned man eyed him suspiciously. "Uh huh."

Whatever they're up to, it must be very sensitive if he's this nervous about it.

Nate pushed himself away from the wall and turned to face the SRD tech. "I'm sure we'll have a conversation about how this turned out tomorrow morning, but for now, I need to take a few minutes to decompress."

"No debrief this time?"

"Not one I'll be involved in", he said, shaking his head. "Feel free to run it in my place."

With that, he stepped past Jackson and began toward the elevator. They'd have to change how these exfils went, this wasn't a habit he wanted to adopt.

The shower wasn't as refreshing this time and, as he collapsed into his bed once again, Nate already knew why. Unease continued tugging at his stomach thinking about the fact Supermutants had moved that far into the city. The ex-soldier hadn't exactly been in a stable state of mind during the interrogation, but that Supermutant Damon tortured said something about them capturing territory. If they did, en masse, that would complicate things on the fighting side, and at the same time… a shiver ran down his spine as he thought about the implications for the citizens living in the ruins of his city.

It would mean more victims, like the kids. He couldn't imagine that, working the fields on their farm one moment, and the next being swarmed by those massive, disfigured monsters. Hearing the screams, breaking bones, and tearing meat as they butchered their victims, waiting for your turn to be slaughtered. Little wonder the three of them attached themselves to the SPARTAN after he saved them from that. Even if he was… not the most inviting character.

Another tidal wave of guilt crashed into him. How had he been so blind? How could he have even considered putting them in harm's way to wipe out the Railroad? How could he have asked Damon to destroy another home of theirs? It was little wonder the titan attacked him instead.

Nate buried his face in his pillow. Goddammit! How could I be so stupid?

Now they were in the wind, and he'd probably never have the opportunity to make things up to them. At least not personally. Hell it wasn't like he deserved that chance anyway.

Rolling on to his back, the ex-soldier stared up at the steel ceiling, untidy mess he once called a mind throwing everything it could at him.

All of it was noise though. The only thing that mattered was doing what he could to figure out what the plan was, and stop it.

But that would never rid him of the guilt rooted deep inside. Just like the opportunity to mend his relationship with Cass and Thomas, he didn't deserve that. What he'd done was unforgivable, and that was going to be with him for however long he had to suffer this hellhole that had once been Earth.

The infantryman's eyes drifted shut as his mental and physical exhaustion took over. Tomorrow would be another chance to get closer to his goal. Whatever Li and Jackson were up to, he'd at least get an introduction to it in the morning. And hey, they might have some weapons they can fight the Brotherhood with soon, so that was a win too.

Those were the types of wins he was good at getting. He made a career out of it after all.

X

The next morning, Nate was awake and out of his room early. He stopped by the Commons to pick up a tray of food once again and began toward Li's office. He wasn't just eager to find out what was going on, it was the only thing he could think about. Whatever they were doing, they were desperate to keep it secret from the rest of the Institute's leadership. That meant they didn't have the same priorities, and those priorities were actively opposed to the others. Considering it would be difficult for them to be any worse than what it seemed his son wanted, that was something that had Nate's interest.

Knocking on the sliding steel door, it whispered open to admit the infantryman to Dr. Li's office. As with the prior visit, Jackson was already there, sitting at the desk waiting for him. This time, however, the SRD technician seemed to be much better controlled. He watched Nate approach with a calculating gaze and, as the ex-soldier set the tray of fruits and rolls on the desk, remained silent.

Once Nate sat in the other chair, Madison cleared her throat. "I believe it is time we provide you with answers, considering what you've done for us." She opened a drawer and pulled a small cartridge out. "This was found in the Molecular Relay's data storage. It has a program specifically created to mimic the encryption codes of a Courser, specifically X6-57, and a pre-programmed set of coordinates. No one thought to look for it until Damon told me about Dr. Virgil's escape."

The ex-soldier remembered something about how the scientist had escaped, how he had to upload a program directly to the servers.

"You didn't use the distraction just for that", Nate said.

"No", the ARD leader replied, shaking her head. "However it is something I am familiar with because I've used it before."

She's used it before? What the hell did that mean? She's had to trick their teleportation system to beam something to the surface?

"You had to fake out the Molecular Relay? Why?"

"Because", Jackson answered for her, "we have had to use it to transport… things without the others knowing."

Nate almost groaned. Why do these types always have to build up dramatic reveals. "I don't like playing these sorts of word games, you had to sneak things out of the Institute. It had to be done in a way no one would be able to track unless they knew exactly what they were looking for. That's why you were able to find Virgil's program. The only things you would need to do that for are supplies or-"

… No way. The ex-soldier's mind began racing and he felt his mouth fall open. The Railroad- their mission, their technology, the knowledge, the only way they would have access to those things is if they had help from inside the Institute. Li clearly isn't the original contact, but if she's an outsider, and the one running it now…

"Synths", Nate breathed. "You're the one who has been smuggling Synths out of the Institute."

The realization hit him like a freight train. Why they wanted Damon's help, why they need windows to move without detection, why they might be willing to trust him now. They've been working with the Railroad to get the Synths out of the Institute.

"Holy shit."

"Yes", Li said with a curt nod. "We are. There are others who share in the sentiment Synths are treated more like slaves than sentient individuals. I am aware you contacted Nick Valentine to track down Kellogg. You know just how… alive Synths can be."

"I am but…" The ex-soldier stared at the division leader, wide eyed. This wasn't what he was expecting. He didn't know what would happen but this… this isn't it. There were so many implications- so many different variables that come into play now. "This is-" A sudden sense of elation hit him and a smile slowly spread across his face. "This means I have a chance to help the Railroad."

Nate saw Jackson eyeing him out of his periphery.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean after what happened, after what I did, I get the chance to help them, to do something good. I've- the two kids with them, I betrayed them too." The night before he'd been thinking he'd never get this chance. The ex-soldier still knew nothing he could do would ever make up for what happened, but that didn't matter. What matters is he can help.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Slow down Nate", Dr. Li said, "this is a very delicate operation that has been carefully planned over decades. This is not something you can dive into. The reason I'm telling you this is because you can offer invaluable assistance, but in an extremely specific way."

"The war. You want me to give you more opportunities with the war."

She nodded. "In part, yes. However, your value extends beyond this war effort. You have Father's ear, even if his consideration of you is tenuous at best. I believe you are in the best position possible to effect change in the long run." The doctor held up a hand before Nate could say anything. "I understand you have questions, and the opportunities here are exciting, but this has to be done correctly. We can't waste the efforts of everyone who has fought, and many died, to establish this network. You know what you're fighting for now, though, and that is a good place to start."

Li was right, Nate did have questions. Dozens of them careening around his mind so quickly he barely had time to grab one before another came barreling to the forefront. There were just so many things he wanted to know, so many possibilities and even more reason to figure out what Shaun's plans are. But she was also right about needing to take this slow. If he tries to dive into their operations without knowing how it all works, he would inevitably screw something up, and burn it all to the ground.

"Right", the ex-soldier said, "you're right." He looked from Li to Jackson and back. "That being said, I'm not going to be a blind partner. Whatever I'm in on, I'm in all the way."

A brief silence filled the office as the two Institute scientists exchanged a glance, something passing between them. It was impossible for Nate to tell what it was, but they'd let him know this much, if he was there to put them in the ground, all he had to do was take what he knew to Shaun.

"You understand how this complicates your position, right", Dr. Li asked. "You'll be working very closely with Ayo and Father on the war effort along with this. You can't slip up."

Nate nodded. "I'll be fine. We all know I'm good at misleading people." That didn't come out how he wanted it to, but it was the truth. He had a lifetime of practice lying to himself anyway. Lying to other people? Well that's easy.

"I don't think that's as comforting as you want it to be", Jackson said.

"Well it's too late now", the ex-soldier responded with a sickly smile, "you've already let the cat out of the bag." His expression went deadly serious. "This isn't about how any of us feel, it's about doing the right thing. That being said, I have a few questions I am going to ask before agreeing to anything."

Madison squinted. "Such as?"

"Well… you want to free Synths from the Institute, but up in the Commonwealth they're the boogieman. I can't tell you how many times I heard someone fear mongering about them. Hell, the first time I was in Diamond City, one woman refused to sell to us because we might be Synths. How is what people want to do to them up there better than how they're treated here?"

"That's-" the ARD leader paused, frowning. "That's a pretty long story."

Mockingly checking the screen on his Pipboy Nate grunted. "My schedule looks pretty free today."

That got a smile out of Li. "Fair enough."

The more the pair talked, the more questions Nate asked, the worse and worse the pit in his stomach opened until it was a yawning chasm.

Damon thought the FEV was bad… that was the beginning of their Synth experiments. They used the third generation constructs like test subjects. From what Li told him, the gen threes were almost identical to humans, outside of a few additions the Institute made. That meant they were prime study material: readily available, customizable, and programmable. The Institute used them for everything from live medical trials, to experimental studies.

Like what different levels of radiation does to the human body.

On top of that, the Institute essentially used them as slave labor. As they said before, many of the techs in the Institute are Synths. They're worked hard, all day every day. They're used without consideration for what happens to them, and for all intents and purposes, according to Jackson who worked with the programming and development team, they're human. The goal was to make them as human-like as possible; they can feel pain, they have emotions- they're scared.

It put how Li treated the people in her division in an entirely new light.

"Yes", Madison said, "they're grown, not born, and many have mechanical components surgically implanted, but they're people all the same. Doesn't matter what is done to them."

"Why are they treated more like things than people then?"

"Because that's how 'we' think of them", Jackson replied, biting off the end of each word. "They're supposed to be objects, tools, means to an end."

"The original goal was to create the next step of mankind's evolution, and in a sense we've succeeded." The older woman cleared her throat. "But somewhere along the way, I think the message got lost."

The ex-soldier… it was difficult to hear. How could someone decide to treat the Synths like that? Hell, he hadn't even know who was Synth and who wasn't. The guards, which were second generation models, apparently, were more obvious, but then his mind flashed back to Valentine. Nick might have looked like a circus horror prop, but he acted like any other human.

"What about the Coursers? They don't seem very… human."

Li didn't answer, instead turning to the SRD technician. He had his eyes on the steel floor between his feet.

"That's because we reprogram them to be that way." Jackson looked up to meet the infantryman's gaze. "They aren't supposed to be human. They're hunters, and weapons, meant to track down escaped Synths and eliminate any obstacles in their way. Now- well now they're going to be more than that I guess."

"And weapons don't need things like emotions."

The dark skinned man shook his head. "They're programmed to make the most logical, expedient decision given a set of circumstances. Getting emotional can hamper that ability."

"Ah."

Quiet settled back over the office as Nate considered the implications of what they'd told him. Why they were so desperate to get the Synths away from the Institute.

How could Shaun let all of this happen? … Or how could he order any of it to happen? His son had been there for 60 years, and at least a significant portion of that was in a leadership position.

"What was Shaun before he became the Institute's leader- before he became Father?"

"He's been the head of the Institute for 15 years now", Jackson replied, "before that he was the Advanced Research Division leader. Prior to that he headed the gen three development project."

"So… he's been involved in the production and use of the Synths for more than 20 years?"

The scientist nodded. "30."

A lump in Nate's throat joined the pit in his stomach. "Does- does that mean he's the one who's responsible for how Synths are used?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Nate. I'm sorry. I'm sure I don't have to tell you there's always pressure from the people around and above you to make sacrifices for the Institute and its goals. That's how we're all brought up, and how we're all educated."

Nate cleared his throat, trying to make some room around the growing boulder trying to suffocate him. "But that means the people who are promoted are the ones who do that the most, who get the best results. If Shaun is as- as ruthless as it seems…" How his own son manipulated him, used him to ambush Damon came to mind. "Did he do all of this on his own?"

"Slow down", Madison said, an apologetic frown spreading across her face. "I know where you're going with this. I wasn't involved in all of them, but there were several discussions about you and your role here over the last few months. And I know Shaun well enough to know he wasn't lying about his feelings for Nora."

"That doesn't matter though, does it?" The ex-soldier's jaw tightened. "If anything it only makes things worse. He decided to do that, to use Nora, and how I reacted to manipulate me into- into betraying Damon." His head fell into his hands. "What has he become? What have I let happen to him?"

Damon's words rang through his head again. "You're in bed with a monster. More of a monster than I've ever been. All because your son is the head of that monster." They SPARTAN had been right. Again. He'd been able to recognize the danger when Nate couldn't. He'd even tried to warn him, in his own infuriating way, despite what the ex-soldier had done and said. Shaun had become a monster and-

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Nate, you can't do this to yourself", Jackson said. "We're giving you the worst perspective possible here, but for as much bad as he does, your son has also done a lot of good. The Institute, and the people here have flourished under his leadership."

"Does that excuse it though?" the father whispered.

"Absolutely not, which is why we're here, doing what we can to mitigate it. You can help us do more though." His head shot out of his hands as he lifted his eyes to meet the SRD technician's. He gave Nate a nod. "You have his ear, and you're in a position he isn't used to. You aren't an authority figure to him, you're an emotional connection. That isn't something, as far as I'm aware, he's ever had. We can make things better, we just have to play things right."

And now Nate's chest twisted into a deep, painful knot. "What do you mean he's never had an emotional connection?"

Jackson blinked slowly, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. It looked incredibly sad. "I don't know everything, but after he was used as the foundation for the third generation Synths, he was groomed from a young age to become a scientist on the project. That's how he became attached to it, and jumped to higher and higher positions. The leadership before him didn't just want his DNA to underpin the project, they wanted him to be its driving force."

How- how could that be? How could someone do that? Rip a toddler from his mother's arms, experiment on him, then- then force him to work on the very project he was kidnapped for? More than that, make it his only reason for living.

And that happened to Shaun. His son.

"So- so he's been alone this entire time? His entire life?" The ex-soldier's eyes were wet with tears. His mind flashed back to just before the bombs fell, standing in the nursery, over his crib spinning the mobile for him. Even that young, the wonder and life in his son's eyes was so… Nate could stare into them for hours, lost in their incredible depth.

"I don't think-"

"Yes", Dr. Li interrupted. "He was. But he has you now."

The ex-soldier turned to the other scientist. The muscles in his neck felt like they were made of stone.

"What do you mean?"

"This is an opportunity for you to change things around here, yes, but it's also a chance for you to give Shaun someone to finally connect with. Even if it's at the end." There was something in her tone- pain. A deep seated pain.

"Do you think I can help him? After all this time?"

She gave a small, sharp shrug. "I don't know, but you have to try. Even if you don't do it for him, changing how we do things will help countless Synths, and maybe even people in the Commonwealth above."

Nate rubbed the tears out of his eyes and cleared his throat. Maybe he owed Shaun too. He hadn't been there for him. Couldn't have been there for him. He was trapped in that goddamn cryogenic chamber while Kellogg took him and killed Nora. He couldn't be the father he'd always wanted to be.

It was too late now. But if he could do something to make the end of his life a little better, and make the change Damon had been so convinced he wouldn't be able to pull off happen-

Just as much as figuring out why Shaun had wanted him at the Institute in the first place, that would be a goal to give everything for.

I guess I have some large shoes to fill, he thought as he pulled his hands down and met Dr. Li's gaze once again.

"I want to help."

She nodded. "I thought you would. It's good to have you on board, officially." The scientist smiled. "Before we go any further, we need to talk a little logistics."

As much as Nate tried to pay attention, the rest of the conversation passed in a blur. It was one thing for them to say he had an opportunity here, but the idea that his son had spent his entire life alone… that he never had a life beyond the Institute and the third generation Synth project… how could he let that happen?

Intellectually, the ex-soldier knew the answer: there was nothing he could have done to save either of them. But that didn't matter. He'd been right there- he'd watched it happen.

And the horrors Shaun had been through, the things he had to do to achieve his goals, what he had to rationalize to do what he did, it turned him into a monster. Is that something what little time they had left could fix? Especially when they'd be fighting a war against the Brotherhood while Nate was essentially stabbing him in the back.

Dammit.

Dammit.

Dammit.

DAMMIT.

Why did this happen? What had he, Nora, or Shaun done to deserve any of this? Hadn't Nate paid his dues? Given up enough?

"Nate, I think you should take some time", Li's voice broke through the torrent of thoughts swirling through his mind. "I should have figured this information would be… difficult for you to process." She stood from her desk and motioned for the two men to do the same. "It was insensitive of me to continue this conversation after forcing this on you. I would recommend not attending the meeting scheduled for this afternoon. We can handle it."

The ex-soldier stood alongside Jackson, bewildered mind still struggling to take in everything he'd been told. "But they'll be suspicious if I don't."

She nodded. "Yes, but suspicion is better than accidentally letting something slip in your current state of mind. If necessary, you can take your time in the labs or firing range. It would make for a reasonable alibi."

"I don't-" he was going to say he didn't need time, but that was a lie. He did, and badly. From coming to the Institute, to seeing Shaun wasn't a toddler, or even a 10 year old boy, but a 60 year old man, to finding out he's dying, and now coming to the realization he's been turned into a monster. Everything was wrong, everything was out of place.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Li shook her head sadly. "I can't help you with that. We've all suffered loss, but what you've been subjected to… I can't imagine what it must be like." She shared a short glance with Jackson before meeting his searching gaze again. "We're here whenever you need us though. I know you haven't had many people to trust recently, so I promise I will never lie to you. For as much as that's worth."

"Agreed", Jackson said with a nod.

Looking back and forth between the two scientists, Nate wasn't sure what to think. They wouldn't lie to him? Everyone lied to him, even his own son. The only ones who didn't were gone.

The only person he could trust in this post-apocalyptic hellhole was dead, and it was his fault. How could he believe what they said?

"You're right", the father said, his voice so thick it was almost unintelligible, even to him, "I need some time."

"Take it. We'll be available any time you need something."

Nate nodded absently and turned to leave the office. As he wandered back through the Advanced Research Division, the only thing he could think about was how easy it would be to pack it in. The only thing he had left was making up mistakes to people who were either dead, dying, or didn't trust him anymore. What kind of life was that? Yes, he was holding on because he owed Nora and Damon answers for why they were dead, but then what?

Help the Synths here. Do what I told Damon I would: make things better, no matter how little I change them, if they're better than they were before I came here, that's a win.

It was a nice thought, but it didn't do much in the face of the horror and pain gnawing at every fiber of his being.

The ex-soldier made his way to the Commons to gather more food. He didn't know what time it was, or how long he'd been in Dr. Li's office, but he was hungry again.

And he couldn't think of anything else to do but eat. Exercise seemed useless, and the last thing he wanted to do was be around other people, especially the people here. Especially people who think so little of anyone not in their exclusive little club.

My son is at the center of that.

After taking another tray of food, Nate was just about to sit down at one of the small tables when the din of the main hub finally punched through the torrent of swirling thoughts. He looked around to find dozens of people meandering through the Commons. None were paying him much attention, but talking with someone, or the risk of someone talking with him- being here was probably not a great idea.

How many of these people are Synths?

He couldn't tell. According to Jackson and Li, there would be no way to tell. Of course there were the guards dressed in their strange, white armor, but the third generation Synths… hell half the people there could be the 'artificial humans'.

Heaving a breath, he began back toward his room once more, a place he felt he spent entirely too much time. What else was there to do at this point? Li was right: going to the planning meeting would be a terrible idea.

So a few minutes later, Nate slid the door to his apartment shut, isolating himself from the already insulated world he found himself in.

It was silent.

The ex-soldier set his tray down on the table and dropped into one of the chairs.

Silence wasn't the problem, he'd grown accustomed to silence since waking up in this hellscape. Aside from regularly traveling through potentially hostile territories, he'd spent most of his time around Damon. The SPARTAN had grown more talkative during their time together, but he was still a horrible conversationalist.

Even so, the armored titan's presence had a weight that seemed to tilt the entire world toward him. It was something that had been missing since the ambush, but it felt pronounced now more than ever. Even more than when he woke up in the infirmary afterward.

What Jackson said about the Coursers came to mind again as Nate began eating: "They aren't supposed to be human. They're hunters, and weapons, meant to track down escaped Synths and eliminate any obstacles in their way."

Aside from the part about hunting Synths, that could describe Damon to a T. Or at least it would to anyone who didn't know him.

It didn't take a genius to see what Nate said and did hurt him, bad. That might be what pained Nate the most.

"WE? WE? Who the fuck is we? All you've ever done is stand to the side while I did the killing- while I was covered in blood. That's all anyone has ever done; sit back and watch me do their killing. I'm done doing it because I'm supposed to be a weapon."

The titan was angry, furious, but it wasn't the only thing in his voice. The words were ladened with pain. More pain than he'd heard from the SPARTAN's before.

Maybe their circumstances weren't identical, but the same thing happened to Shaun. He was stolen from his life, turned into a tool and used until there was nothing left. The question now is whether Nate influenced what happened with Damon, or if that was going to happen regardless. If he did help Damon, could he do the same for Shaun?

Does it matter? He's my son, I have to try. I owe him that much. I owe Nora that much.

I owe myself that much.

He didn't know how long it took him to clear the tray of food, but once he did, the ex-soldier leaned back, staring at the ceiling. It really felt like he couldn't catch a break. If it wasn't one life altering event, it was another

It probably wouldn't stop, but at least there wasn't much more the world could take from him.

That… isn't a good thought.

Ain't that the truth.

The question now is how will he help Li and her people? How does he get from there to figuring out what the long term plan is and how he fits into all of it?

He didn't have the answers, but he needed to do this like his LT kept pounding into his head: solve a problem one brick at a time.

The first brick? That's a much easier question to answer.

X

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Li asked, eyeing the ex-soldier with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. "I understand you want to get involved, but you'll have to run the logic by me again."

They were standing in one of the labs being converted into a production facility for conventional firearms. Apparently the doctor thought it was a good place to have this conversation. Considering she knew the people in the large room working on the equipment and he didn't, he decided he'd trust her judgment. It did provide good cover; if they kept having private conversations in her office, people would get more and more suspicious.

Nate nodded. "I don't think we should do it now, but with Jackson already a part of the SRD, getting someone else in a position of trust will help. Especially with my… unique relationship with Shaun."

"I agree with that, of course, but you're also asking one of my people to not just put themselves at risk, but willingly sacrifice themselves. When Synths are recaptured, it isn't just a punishment, they're reprogrammed and repurposed." Her jaw tightened. "Pretending to escape, just to be captured again- I understand the tactic, but it comes at such a high cost."

"I know", the ex-soldier sighed. "Not about the… repercussions, but the sacrifice. This isn't something I'm asking lightly. I get it-" he paused as he thought about what he was going to say. Did he have any right to make this statement? To suggest someone else throw themselves on the altar of his objectives?

"I understand what I'm asking, Li, which is why this should be a decision left up to them. I'm done making those calls for other people. Something Damon said near the end… well he told me I used everyone along the way to get here." The ex-soldier looked around the cavernous room at the people buzzing around equipment. Most were working with things he recognized: mills, lathes, 3D printers, presses, but there were plenty of things he didn't. Some of them were undoubtedly Synths, one of them might be who would volunteer for this if they could come up with a workable plan. And Madison agreed.

"He was right. I'm done doing that; I owe the kid a lot, this is the least I could start with."

The ARD leader frowned. "You called him kid before. Why?"

Would the SPARTAN be alright with Nate saying? His age was one of the things he wasn't very secretive about, and it isn't like it would hurt anyone. But did the ex-soldier have the right to say anything on his behalf?

Li was still watching him. "If you don't-"

"He was 19."

A short silence fell over their small corner of the facility as she blinked at him. She looked exactly how Nate felt when Damon told him the first time.

"19…?"

"Yes. I can't tell you any more. I'm sorry."

The doctor looked dissatisfied, but she didn't push any further.

"This idea is a good one for logistics, Justin and Father would be desperate to retrieve any newly escaped Synths, and your assistance would be viewed as a boon. However you're asking me to look for a volunteer that would essentially throw their life away."

Nate nodded solemnly. "It's just a suggestion. I'm not going to push you to do it. You know the situation and these people better than I do."

A frown spreading across the doctor's face, she turned to study the people working on putting together their makeshift assembly line. Nate could practically see the questions running through her mind: how she would ask, who she would ask, the risk- the sacrifice vs. the reward. It's a call countless commanders have had to make, but no one likes being voluntold for a suicide mission, the same way no one likes signing them up for it. "I'll have to think about it."

"Of course. I didn't expect you to make a decision on the spot. This is your show." Maybe it was because he wasn't as invested in the efforts to help the Synths escape, maybe he really was a ruthless bastard, but not thinking of this before was… a little surprising. The infantryman couldn't blame them though. Li was right, they were asking someone to escape knowing they'd be captured and reprogrammed.

They aren't military, and they don't think the same way. In war, lives are a resource, and as sacred as that resource is, it's expected to be spent.

But he wasn't about to spend it without the consent of the person they were sending to their effective death.

Nate's brow furrowed. He was back here again, thinking about this shit. He'd barely spent two years out, barely enough time to break the habits, and now he's reforming them. Luckily he never had the responsibility of sending anyone else to their death.

He does now, and he didn't need the knot in his stomach and the heavy pounding in his chest to tell him he didn't like it.

"I'm sorry Dr. Li. These are your people and what I'm asking is-" Nate looked at the ground. "It isn't easy."

"I appreciate your concern, but we dedicated ourselves to this. If it will help, and I believe it will, I have no qualms about posing the question. It is up to them whether or not to accept." When the infantryman met her gaze, her face was set in stone. "I just need some time to process it. I've never asked someone to do this sort of thing before."

He offered a small, sad smile. "Neither have I." I've been asked, and volunteered for it plenty of times though. That was easier than this is. "It's always easier when you're the one making the sacrifice."

A hint of curiosity snuck into the ARD leader's eyes. "I take it you have experience doing so."

The ex-soldier nodded. "Suicide missions were just Tuesdays for us."

"Well hopefully we all live to see Wednesday."

Nate's smile turned more genuine. "I second that."

As much as he didn't want to, the infantryman began walking toward the lab's exit. They had a planning meeting for a number of supply chain raids he needed to help set up. If he was going to keep his promise to Li and Jackson, he needed to keep the rest of the leadership busy. Plus, the more experience they had doing these smaller scale, low risk operations, the better their chances would be. The Institute needed to do as much damage as it could while they still had the advantage of isolation over the Brotherhood.

Leaving the makeshift production center, Nate gazed around the room at the few dozen people deep into their tasks, working toward the war effort. Goddamn, the war effort. As if Nate hadn't fought enough wars. As if the world hadn't seen enough wars.

When he got to the conference room, Weller, Brown, Jackson, and Ayo were already there, waiting.

"How are the manufacturing advancements coming along?" Jackson asked.

And now he's here. The ex-soldier at least had an ally in the room, and he opened up by insinuating that's what the two of them were talking about. The SRD leader seemed to trust him, he raised no concerns with the three of them meeting after all, in fact he'd been downright eager to have the tech with them. Maybe that was just as carefully constructed as the rest of their operation, or maybe it was just luck…

No, you don't get lucky like that when you're walking such a fine line with an enemy like the Institute. You're good, or you lose.

Thinking about the Institute as 'the enemy' wasn't a good idea though. Nate isn't here to destroy it, he's here to find out what their plans are, and change it. This isn't where the fighting needs to be. That's with the Brotherhood.

"Good. Most of the equipment is set up, they're working on retrofitting the tooling now. Dr. Li didn't give me any commitments yet, but it looks like we'll be able to start testing the new equipment in the next few days."

Ayo nodded sharply. "I'm glad. After looking at the ballistic test results, I believe your suggestion was warranted, so this is good news."

Getting more consistent agreements from the infuriating man felt… odd. "Do you know what changes you'll have to make to our forces' programming to use regular weapons?"

Brown cleared her throat. "We're still working with the simulations, but we think they will be ready before any conventional firearms are deployed in the fields."

Hand wavy statements like that never did Nate's nerves any good. "Which is how long…?"

"Judging by our trials so far, we are at about 65% success rate, including the improvements we discussed after our assault on Cambridge. If our rate of progress continues, we will be finished within the week."

"Okay, so they'll be ready for uploading into the next batch of Synths?"

This time Weller spoke up. "Yes, they should be. It would be better this way as well. We will be able to start from scratch instead of modifying the programming currently loaded into our combat units. Easier to test and debug."

Nate nodded. "If we're still waiting on that, then I'd like to limit our raids to Coursers exclusively until we know the conventional units will be effective."

"Very well", Ayo said, "then we need to choose our targets very carefully."

They all turned to the map and began their planning.

Just like with the rest of their sessions, this one seemed to drag and soar past at the same time. The ex-soldier couldn't count the number of these he'd been on the receiving end of, now he was the one giving the orders. It really did feel odd.

By the time they were done, Nate's stomach was running on empty and he was just about ready to hit the sack. It had been a long day and, if he was being honest with himself, the infantryman didn't want to do anything else. He already spent most of his time working with and learning about the Institute (a lot of which he didn't like), so the thought of wandering around the place just didn't appeal to him.

Instead, once they were finished, Nate grabbed a tray with some sort of beef dish on it from the commons and stalked back to his room.

The tray sat on the small table untouched as the ex-soldier stood there, mind racing as he thought about everything that had happened. Like he did almost every moment he wasn't working on strategies and planning.

Nora, Shaun, Li, Cass, Thomas, Julian, Sanctuary, the Brotherhood, the Synths.

Damon.

How had all of this happened to him? Nate didn't know if reincarnation existed, but if it did, the universe owed him a cushy life on the next go around.

He sat and began eating. Whatever it was, the food was good, as always.

And as always eating it made him feel… dirty.

It did give him some motivation though. Holdren all but admitted the way they produce their food is scalable. If that's the case, they should have no problem producing enough for citizens in the Commonwealth above. After seeing what most people up there eat on a day to day basis, food like this alone would probably improve conditions by an order of magnitude.

The ex-soldier allowed himself a small smile. It's like his old CO used to say: an army runs on its stomach. He found very quickly it wasn't just armies, morale in regular populations did too.

Maybe if-

A knock on his door drew Nate's attention away from his dinner. Not many people bothered him outside of their meetings. Porter hadn't come by in several days so who…

He stood and strode to the door. When it slid open, he found himself standing face to face with a solemn looking Isaiah.

"Do you have some time?"

That's never a good question to hear. "What's going on?"

"I just wanted to talk about our missions", the young man replied, motioning his head down the hall.

Nate's eyes narrowed. What was he here for? Isaiah wasn't someone he'd expect to come find him for a meeting or brief.

"Okay, anything in particular?"

He nodded. "Come on, we've got a few people waiting."

A few people waiting?

The ex-soldier followed him down the hall back toward the Commons. Instead of heading for the conference room though, Isaiah led him across the cavernous room toward the BioScience entrance.

Now suspicions were beginning to swirl in Nate's head. Was Strong a part of this little smuggling ring?

As they entered the absolutely massive hydroponics farm, walking through the orderly rows of crops, Isaiah turned his head toward the infantryman.

"You don't seem surprised."

"About?"

The young man smiled. "At least you're smart enough not to fall for that. Dr. Li told me about your idea. We had more than a few volunteers. She settled on one and said you'd probably want to meet them."

I'd want to meet them… She was right, he did, but Nate was sure the division leader had her own reasons. If he had to guess, it would be to make sure he appreciated what, exactly, he was asking. Li wanted him to appreciate the sacrifice he was asking for. She wanted him to see the Synth who would essentially be giving up their life was a person.

The pit that settled in his stomach wasn't the same as usual. He knew this is what would happen, and he had no right to feel guilty about the situation. Whoever it was that volunteered did so to give the other Synths a better chance at escaping. It's their responsibility to make sure that decision isn't made in vain.

They arrived at the rear of the hydroponics farm and Isaiah led him into another large room illuminated with cool, blue indirect lighting behind it. Whatever the place was, it looked like a processing center of some sort. A track system carried harvested plants through several large machines around the room. They were trimming, shucking, cutting, or whatever the various crops needed to be processed before sealing them in large bags. And it was anything but quiet.

At the far end were a half dozen people grouped together and talking. Nate couldn't hear them over the whirring of tracks, clatter of machinery, and the loud HVAC system that kept the room uncomfortably cool in his t-shirt and cargo pants.

"Everyone", Isaiah called as they approached, "this is our newest member."

Most of the gazes cast in his direction were dubious, but one, a taller, well built woman, stepped forward and held out a hand.

"Glad to have you on board Nate. I'm Samantha", her voice was rich and bright with an easy smile that almost seemed to radiate from her. Between that, her thick brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, and soft face, the ex-soldier almost found himself transfixed as he shook her hand.

"It's nice to meet you", he said, looking around at the others assembled there. He didn't recognize any of them. Each was dressed in the same, white, anti-static, clean coveralls. "All of you."

Isaiah stepped forward. "Sam is the one who has volunteered for this mission."

It took every ounce of Nate's will to fend off the shudder that crawled up his spine.

This was her choice. I have to make sure I don't waste it.

"Thank you Sam."

The woman's smile never faltered as she nodded. "This isn't just about me." She looked at her companions. "We're all in this together and the more we can do for each other, the better things will be in the long run." Her piercing blue eyes met his again. "I know I'm not the only one who volunteered to do this, but I'm glad I'm the one Madison chose."

She's glad Li chose her? Nate could understand the sentiment, at least from a soldier's perspective, but he had no clue what it would be like in their situation. Curiosity got the better of him

"Why's that?"

"So no one else would have to do it." The way she said it, Nate felt as though he should be berating himself, like it was the most obvious question he could have asked.

Nate returned her smile. "That's exactly what I would have said."

"Then I think we have the right person for the job", Sam said with a nod. "But, before this goes down, can I get a favor?"

"Yes."

"If something goes wrong, and my mind isn't wiped before you and the Coursers capture me, shoot me."

For a moment, the only sounds were from the facilities around them as the ex-soldier stared at her. When he finally broke his gaze away from the woman, the others behind her were looking at him with the same sort of grim determination Sam had in her voice. They all knew the risks, and as much as they, clearly, didn't like this, they all knew what she was asking was the right call.

If that's what it takes to be in this position.

"On my life."

"Great!" she beamed with the confidence that could only come from someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The woman's smile faded ever so slightly and her piercing eyes grew hard. "And before you try to take any responsibility for this, it may have been your idea, but I made this decision. You just need to make sure you make it count."

The ex-soldier held her gaze. "That's my only concern."

Samantha stepped back in line with the others, apparently satisfied. "I'm glad to hear it."

"Dr. Li is working with a few others to iron out the details", Isaiah said. "They said they should have things sorted out by the end of tomorrow."

They would have to coordinate with other operations, but that could come next. For now, they had someone for this mission- his mission. The ex-soldier wasn't sure he liked that, but they were dedicated to this now. He'd be damned if he didn't make this work.

As the SRD technician turned to lead him out of the packaging center and into the absolutely cavernous hydroponics farm, something else occurred to Nate. Over the last few days, the only people involved in this he'd interacted with were Li and Jackson. Now he knew at least a half dozen other faces. He smiled. They were starting to trust him. Whether that was out of necessity, or opportunity, he didn't know, but it didn't matter either. Not to him.

But just like agreeing to help the Institute in their fight against the Brotherhood, he felt himself slipping backward. Nate felt himself being pushed back to battle, despite a decade of work on both his and Nora's part to pull him out.

Is this what he was running from? The knowledge that, no matter what he did, the fighting would always find him? From home, to the military, to waking up here, it was a non-stop battle.

The setting might move, the circumstances might be different.

But war… war never changes.

Notes:

You knew it was going to happen eventually. Hopefully that isn't just because this is a FO story and it's compulsory; I think one of the themes I've been pretty consistent on throughout this story is that very idea: war doesn't change, no matter how much people try. This is something that has been and is going to continue to develop as we progress, but it's something that pretty much every character in this story shares. And as for the 'twist' here, I hope it didn't come as too much a surprise, I wanted Li's involvement to be one of those things that, looking back on it, makes sense. This is something I felt Bethesda could have taken advantage of but never did, and it works for me considering Li's past, and the circumstances in the Institute. Aaaaaaaaanyway, we've still got a long way to go, and plenty of time to get there. I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see you next time!

Chapter 35: (Not) According to Plan

Notes:

We're back yet again! Welcome to another episode of how do you completely ruin Fallout! So this has obviously gone in a very new direction in the last few chapters. It was something I had planned for a while and there's a reason behind that. I think Fallout did a major disservice to the Institute, and to Shaun, who I think had the opportunity to be extremely interesting story elements. Bethesda kinda wasted them. On top of that, I've (obviously) changed a ton of story elements. More important than any of those, I think the other characters deserve their time too. Don't get me wrong, there's a reason the vast majority of the story has been told, to this point, through Damon's eyes, and I know a lot of people read the story for that, but, if I may ask, allow the story to develop, and allow the other characters to take you through their parts of the story. Anyway, I think that's enough rambling. Please leave a review if you are so inclined, even if it's (constructive) criticism, and like always, enjoy!

It pained the ex-soldier to have to wait.

For as much as he poked Damon for the SPARTAN's constant impatience, Nate wasn't much better.

Putting their plan into action immediately would be too suspicious though. They needed to time this right. Shaun and the rest of the Institute's leadership were clearly aware they had someone in their midst working with the Railroad to get Synths out. They were also smart enough to know anyone trying to smuggle their creations out of the Institute would love to use the excuse of a war as cover.

That was something they both needed to be wary of, and take advantage of. An escaped Synth, especially during the beginnings of this fight, would be a huge security risk. A security risk like that necessitates a large-scale response and, while Shaun would be resistant to sending the ex-soldier out again, it would provide good justification for attaching him to the mission.

So it was a waiting game, until the right moment. Too long, and they'd grow suspicious. Too quickly and they'd suspect Nate's involvement.

In the meantime, the ex-soldier occupied himself by going through his regular duties as the de facto armed forces commander. That involved a lot more time spent in the damned conference room than he wanted. Considering Damon's particular disposition, he had no clue how the armored titan managed to suffer through almost a week of that.

Hours on end of going through intel reports from their Courser field teams, compiling the mission critical data, and drafting plans on it. Isaiah was there every step of the way, and Nate couldn't deny the kid's brilliance. He wasn't usually the one to speak up, but how he recorded, organized, and disseminated information was… lifesaving, so to speak. Hell, the ex-soldier was convinced the younger man didn't even need to write the information down, he could call it on demand at a moment's notice.

It also gave him an idea what his role in the Synth smuggling ring was. The infantryman was happy he'd insisted on his presence.

Jackson, Weller, Brown, and two other SRD technicians, Jacob Walsh, and Sarah Hanson were there as much as he was too. For newbies, they were a fantastic support staff. They'd picked up at least as much in the few days they'd spent with Damon as he had, and they learned more every day.

After a few days spent pouring over what information they could gather, Nate felt they had two very promising targets for their first raids. The first, a regular caravan running from a large group of farms in the northeast down to the airport, would be… difficult. They ran it along the remains of the 107 with heavy guard. Once they were in the city, any Vertibird support would only be a few minutes away. That meant hitting them early and hard.

The second would be a lot easier. It was a small outpost the Brotherhood decided to establish near several smaller settlements to the west of Cambridge. Nate liked that assault; it would be a good warning to the Brotherhood, and deter them from trying to set up shop with the citizenry. They might not like the Institute, but the less Maxson had control over them, the better.

As much as the work could be interesting at times for the most part it was… boring. He was used to being the one in the shit, not sitting comfortably in a bunker.

The few reprieves he got were when he left to check in on the ARD, both to see the progress made on their weapons production line, and to pin down the specific details of their pho-escape attempt.

Nate was genuinely impressed with how quickly Dr. Li's people got a working prototype for their new conventional firearms. Three days after recovering the equipment from their escapade into Boston, they were assembling the components into an AR-15. It helped they had the weapon designs, but that was some remarkably fast work.

Despite the difficulties they'd faced during initial development, the ARD kept working to improve the laser weapons too. Those didn't have as much success, but they fixed their focusing lens issue, which meant they could get more than a few dozen shots off before needing to rebuild the weapons.

That's good at least.

It was that night they decided on the day of the raids. By extension, that meant the day of Samantha's escape.

"Two days, huh?" Jacksons said as the two of them sat in the Commons, late that night, eating. No one besides the night crew was still awake, and they never came to this part of the facility.

Nate nodded. "Yeah. Two days. How quickly will they send out a recovery team?"

"Immediately." The SRD tech took another bite of his Chicken Cordon Bleu. "You know what you're going to say yet?"

"I have a few ideas, but I don't want to get too focused on one approach." Nate shrugged. "None of us know how they're going to react."

Jackson smirked. "True. You wanna run me through your lines?"

"No", the ex-soldier said through a chuckle. "You'll give me stage fright."

"Wouldn't want to make you nervous before your big day."

Silence settled back over their little section of the enormous main hub of the Institute. Nate noticed a while ago the indirect lights set in the walls dimmed at night to give the cavernous space a more… natural feel. It was large enough he really did feel like he was sitting above ground with the darkened sky outside.

As they ate in silence, the infantryman's mind drifted to Samantha. He'd learned more about her over the preceding few days. She was one of the older third generation Synths, apparently. The striking, fiery woman was a little over 10 years old, and spent that entire time in the processing facility behind the hydroponics farm. That was an existence he couldn't imagine: being delegated to work in a position like that from the moment you're born- or grown- without consideration for whether you want that. He'd tried to figure out who were Synths and who were humans, but Nate couldn't tell a damn bit of difference.

And Shaun treats them like tools.

The question was, is Nate doing the same thing?

"You used me too, someone you think is a monster."

That's what Damon said. He was right before. Is he right now?

"Hey, Jackson?" Nate asked quietly. The other man looked up from his food. "Is this the right thing to do?"

Leaning back in his chair, Jackson hummed. "What do you mean?"

"I know everyone agreed to do this but- is this the right way to go about this?"

Jackson set his cup down and cleared his throat. "Sam knows what she's doing, we all do. We all want to do everything we can to get as many Synths free as possible. Don't take that from her."

He wasn't. Even if the idea may have been his, she'd made it clear from when Isaiah introduced them, she was doing this willingly. That doesn't mean he doesn't share some responsibility though.

Of course, when he was the one on the front lines, he probably felt the same way she does now. It didn't matter if someone gave the order to charge into an ambush, Nate decided whether he would do it or not. Maybe it's just that he wasn't the one putting his life on the line. He'd be on the recovery team, but barring some unforeseen complication, there was no risk to him.

There was one difference though: he hadn't ordered anyone to do anything.

"Sorry", the infantryman said eventually. "I'm used to being the one who's ass is over the fire. Doesn't feel right to ask someone else to."

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, I get that. But we know what we need to do now, so let's do it."

"Right." Nate huffed a short laugh. "You sound like my old lieutenant."

"Sometimes, everyone needs a reality check."

"Ain't that the truth."

The two of them finished eating in silence. Despite the conversation, they were both exhausted from several late nights.

One more. The next day would be just as long, but he needed to get something resembling a good night's sleep afterward. The last thing he wanted to do was screw the mission because he was tired.

"I'll be by Li's office tomorrow morning", Nate said as he stood to take his tray back to the small counter that served as the receptacle. "We need to make sure we're squared away."

The SRD technician nodded tiredly. "Sounds good. I'm going to enjoy the three or four hours of sleep between now and then."

With a chuckle, Nate left the landing that served as the Common's cafeteria. The display on his Pipboy said 0130. Damn he needed some shut eye. Before he did though, the ex-soldier stripped and showered. The thoughts racing through his mind wouldn't disperse on their own, and the steaming hot water helped wash away more than sweat.

Even after the water had trickled to a stop, he was dry, and pulling a pair of loose fitting sweats on, one thing stuck in his head. The same thought that had kept him pushing so hard over the last week.

If the SPARTAN was here, most of what they were struggling with would be a fart in the wind. Damon's presence alone was a field tilting asset. Reconnaissance, raids, diversions- all of it would be as simple and easy as coming up with a plan, and watching it happen. Of course, there was a bit of exaggeration involved- the Institute was clearly smart enough to deal with the armored man- but all the same it would make things a lot easier.

Nate collapsed into his bed, not taking the time to pull the covers back before he did.

And Damon would be there to share this burden. His experience and expertise. His ability- Maybe the ex-soldier wouldn't be asking Sam to sacrifice herself. Maybe the SPARTAN would have come up with a better idea, or made it unnecessary in the first place.

Yes, Samantha had made the decision to do this, and it truly was her choice- Nate had no authority to order it- but he still came up with the idea. He was still the person this focused on, there were a lot of other people involved, but everything they did was to get him in good graces with Shaun and Ayo. The pit in his stomach was edging toward a yawning chasm.

Maybe he was just trying to run again.

Like Jackson said: they were all doing what they could to make this work.

A small smile split Nate's face as his tired, stinging eyes drifted shut.

Damon wasn't the only person who had difficulty trusting people. Was the ex-soldier trying to take responsibility for this because he didn't think anyone else could? He could almost see Nora glaring at him, disapprovingly. Or Cook throwing another water bottle at his head.

Maybe that's why he and Damon ended up working so well together before everything fell apart. They didn't trust other people.

That's going to have to change. Maybe that's why I've spent so long running.

Nate's eyes drifted open again and he rolled over.

Is it?

He trusted his platoon all those years. He trusted Cook, and Nora, and Damon. Eventually.

How long did that take? How many times did I have to think my way through it?

Taking responsibility for everything he's involved in… that's a lot to carry.

He glanced at the clock beside his bed-

0550.

Oh come on…

He felt like he'd barely blinked, was it really a half hour until he was leaving for the ARD? This was all starting to feel like one long, very long, day.

The ex-soldier laid back in the bed and grimaced. Things were getting very complicated, way more complicated than he'd ever wanted or feared.

After another twenty minutes of laying there, staring at the ceiling, cursing his luck, Nate roused himself and got dressed. The pit in his stomach hadn't closed at all. That didn't surprise him. If anything, he knew it would only grow over the course of the day. He wasn't happy about it, but at this point things were in motion. Turning around now would only make it worse.

His journey back to Li's office passed in a fog. The ex-soldier vaguely remembered greeting a few Institute members once he was at her door, but he almost felt like he'd sleep walked there. Hell, maybe he had.

"Come in", the ARD leader's voice beckoned from inside the open door. He did and keyed it shut behind him. Jackson was there, as well, one of the prototype rifles sitting on the desk between them.

"Uh…" Nate said as he dropped into the other open seat beside the SRD tech. "I feel like I just got done talking with you."

Jackson grunted. "Same here, don't know why you're complaining when I'm the one who had to talk to you though."

"Yes", Li interrupted, "because I want to hear you two bitch and moan this early in the morning."

The ex-soldier cracked a smile. "Okay, so how'd the test go?"

Instead of answering, the doctor picked the rifle in front of her up and offered it to the infantryman. He took it, studying the new weapon. The bolt carrier definitely had lost its glossy sheen, sporting a nice layer of soot. It had been fired, and more than a few times. Pulling the charging handle, the chamber told the same story, and both the bolt and the barrel were intact.

"Looks like it held up just fine."

Both scientists nodded.

"This was a pretty small caliber though", Jackson mused, "nothing that will get through their armor. Not even the regular plate carriers. We were just discussing going to something larger."

"Larger like…?"

"7.62X51", Li said. "Big enough to be effective, at least with the Brotherhood out of armor, but small enough we're comfortable the chamber pressure won't significantly exceed what we saw with this test. That will be happening this afternoon."

.308 wouldn't be enough to hurt T60, even with armor piercing rounds, but it was a start.

Setting the rifle back on the desk, Nate nodded. "Good, we're getting somewhere. Now we just need an army to use the guns we make and we'll be somebody."

"Yeah…" Jackson looked back and forth between the two of them. "I was thinking- it might be a good idea to get some of us in the field."

Get more people in the field? People who would be planning these operations? "I agree with that. The more exposure the leadership team has to the combat we'll be engaging in, the better. Makes things easier to plan when you see how things happen on a battlefield." The ex-soldier glanced at Jackson. "Don't know how many people down here will want to stick their heads in a firefight, but it's a good idea."

The other man smirked. "I think everyone will, at least the first time. A lot of us want to see the Commonwealth with our own eyes. Maybe this is our chance to do it."

"I also agree with the "at least the first time" part."

"I'll take a pass", Li said. "I've been in more than my share of fights."

It wasn't the first time the doctor hinted at her past with the Brotherhood. He had to admit, for as much as he liked her, there was very little he knew about the woman.

"Care to share with the rest of the class."

She turned to him with an odd guardedness in her dark eyes, but after a moment, her expression softened.

"This isn't the first war I've been in. That time, the Brotherhood was fighting to complete the project I and- someone important were working on. It was called Project Purity. We wanted to create a method to purify water for the Capital Wasteland. You would know it as Washington D.C."

Nate's eyes widened. "For the entire area?" She nodded. "Did it work?"

"Yes", Madison said with no small amount of pride in her voice. "We provided thousands of people with a luxury they haven't known for 200 years: potable water from almost any source."

A few months ago… or a few hundred years ago for the rest of the world, the idea that would be a luxury was… laughable. Now? Thinking about walking down to any of the various rivers in the area, scooping some water out and drinking it without dying of radiation poisoning was- wow.

"Dr. Li, I'm not saying this to get on your good side, but that is absolutely incredible. I- I am genuinely awestruck."

She nodded, but the scientist's brow furrowed, and a deep frown creased her face. "It cost a lot of good people their lives and, well, the losses the Brotherhood took to make it happen may well be why they are what they are."

Nate wanted to ask what she meant, but he already knew: sometimes, completing an objective doesn't matter if the price is too high. Changes in leadership, disillusion with their cause, outright rebellion. It could all contribute to ruining an otherwise positive accomplishment. Li wasn't that old- this couldn't have been very long ago.

"When did that happen?"

"Ten years ago." Her voice was solemn, almost sad. "Feels like a lot longer."

"So Maxson was around when this all went down. Who did you have to fight?"

"You name it. Supermutants, Raiders, the Gunners, the Enclave." She shook her head. "Sorry, you wouldn't know who they are. The Enclave were possibly the worst thing the wastes have ever produced, obsessed with purity of genes and superiority of their group and their cause. They burned everything in their way to get what they wanted. It was possibly the most challenging obstacle the Brotherhood has ever faced. And it broke them." The woman paused again, looking down at her hands clasped in front of her. "That's a story for another time though."

A pang of guilt stabbed at the back of Nate's mind. Whatever happened back then, it wasn't something she enjoyed thinking about. Since it seemed to be coming back to haunt her in the worst way possible now, this was probably the last topic she wanted to discuss.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

Li shook her head again. "Don't worry about it. What happened isn't a secret. It's just something that's been on my mind lately." The doctor met his gaze. "I'd be happy to talk about it another time, but for now we have a few details to discuss."

Their fake escape. The ex-soldier nodded.

"We've got most of it ironed out and our pieces in place", Jackson said, "but this is going to be the trickiest teleport we've ever done. With the two squads leaving right before we do, the timing is going to be critical, along with where some people are when it happens."

"Who, exactly?" Nate asked.

"You."

The ex-soldier blinked. "You need me somewhere?"

"Yes", Jackson replied with a nod. "You have to be in a position where it wouldn't be suspicious if you were to do nothing in the short term."

"And I'm guessing you have a place in mind."

The SRD technician gazed at him with a worried glint in his eyes. "I know you haven't been… happy with Dr. Porter, but do you think you could have a session with her during deployment?"

Talk with Porter? It wasn't that he disliked her, or that she was lying to him- in fact the shrink was surprisingly honest and straightforward. And that was what bothered him. She not only openly admitted they'd manipulated him to ambush Damon, but did so in a way that suggested there was nothing wrong with that. It was almost like she was brainwashed to believe everything and anything done in the name of the Institute was justified.

"Why that, specifically?"

"It's something Father has been suggesting", Dr. Li said. "That conversation is something they expect to happen eventually. Many in the Institute believe in their assumptions, and while your son is careful and calculating, he is no different. They trust they can predict human behavior. We need to play into that."

Meeting with Helen didn't worry him. He'd been around enough psychiatrists to know how to play their game. Not as well as they did, but he was conversant in shrink language. All he needed to do was tell her what she expected to hear, while sprinkling in just enough resistance to make it seem genuine.

"Okay", the ex-soldier said, "that works for me."

Li nodded. "Good, glad to hear it. If you don't mind, I'd like to keep when the escape will be a secret."

It took a moment for the request to click in Nate's head, but once it did, the idea made sense. The less he knew about the plan, the more genuine his response would be to it. They wanted to make this believable afterall.

"You've put a lot of thought into this."

The doctor nodded again. "We have. There's no other choice; if we don't plan every move carefully, we'll be caught."

"So no pressure."

"There's always pressure, Nate. It's what we do with it that matters."

Uh huh. "You're right, sorry." He leaned back in his chair. "Is everything else squared away then?"

"Yes", Jackson said. "Just make sure your reaction is believable."

Concern and anger. Those were the emotions he needed to pull on when he stormed into the conference room. They'd just allowed a Synth to escape in the middle of a war; that's bad news if Sam is captured by the Brotherhood.

Push hard and don't stop until I get what I want. Considering the circumstances, he had plenty of those emotions to pull on.

"Don't worry about that. I already want to level your boss, all I have to do is add in a little shouting."

The other man smiled. "Please don't. He already complains about you enough."

Good. "That just means I'm doing my job."

"You aren't the first person who's said that."

"Alright", Nate said, standing. "So it's talk with Helen, storm in like a hurricane, make them send me out with a recovery team ASAP, get Sam back before anything bad can happen to her. Sounds simple."

"Simple doesn't mean easy", Li replied.

"Yeah, I got that." The ex-soldier looked at Jackson. "For now we have another fun-filled day of planning a war."

The SRD tech grunted. "You're having fun?"

"Absolutely not", Nate said, chuckling.

X

Despite running the conversation through his head a thousand times, Nate was still nervous as he approached Dr. Porter's room. Or maybe it was because he imagined it so many different ways, going wrong in so many different ways. Normally, the more he went over a plan, the more confident he was in it. Then again, most of the plans he's seen or created have involved shooting. While he was good at talking, he wasn't a professional (something Nora, Cook, and Damon would probably all disagree with).

There really were countless ways Nate could slip up and let Helen in on something she shouldn't be. His feelings about the Institute, what he knows about Shaun, his involvement with Dr. Li's group, their plan- the goals of the plan. For as young as the shrink seemed, Nate had to give her credit: she was excellent at digging through the 'noise' to find whatever she was looking for. A subtle push here, a benign suggestion there, constantly insinuating how much the Institute could mean to him, how much Shaun wanted him, how the best thing he could do was help the Institute.

Repetition is the king of propaganda, and whether the woman knew it or not, she was very good at it. Was that why his son stuck her with him? He wanted to bring the ex-soldier to his side, even if that meant trying to indoctrinate him?

Nate's heart was pounding in his chest as he stopped in front of the silver and yellow painted door back in the regular living quarters. He'd been confident the day before when Jackson originally suggested this. Now though… now their plan was irrevocably in action, and he had one shot to get this right or risk a lot of people's lives, he was uneasy. Now he was standing at Helen's door, the certainty he felt about being able to play her wasn't there.

He needed to push that away. This isn't the time to doubt, it's the time to act, and-

"The moment you doubt what you're doing is the moment you die."

After a deep breath, the ex-soldier buzzed the room.

Footsteps drifted out from behind the door and, a few moments later, it slid open to reveal a slender, dark haired man with pale skin, narrow features, and an uncertain frown on his face.

"Can I help you?" he asked in a low, slightly nasally voice.

"Yeah, Dr. Porter has been asking me to talk with her about what happened last week. I think I'm ready to, if she's available."

The man, a few inches taller than Nate, stared him down for a few seconds, seemingly considering his request. While he'd never seen this guy before, it was probably her husband.

"Sure", he said eventually. "Wait here a moment please."

With the door sliding shut again, the ex-soldier heard his footsteps recede from the entrance. Muffled voices made it through the thin steel. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but one of them was clearly the psychiatrist. Nate began chewing on his lower lip. He really didn't dislike her. She just thought she was doing her job the best she could.

Is that what Shaun is doing? Doing the best he can?

No more than a dozen seconds later, the door whispered open once again to admit the woman. She was dressed in her normal white coveralls with her shoulder length hair pulled back into a ponytail. Dr. Porter was smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. There was more than a little uncertainty in them.

"You aren't going to be present for the mission?" she asked.

Nate shook his head. "They're at the operational stage. Nothing I can do for now." He paused long enough to give the impression of hesitation, a frown on his face. "I told you I know how I deal with grief. I think I've gotten to the point I need to run a few things by someone else. This situation is just so… different from anything else I've been in."

"Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset the last time I asked."

The ex-soldier's frown deepened. "I am still upset. I don't think you appreciate how it feels to be used to kill a friend." He offered a defeated shrug. "What am I going to do at this point though? He's gone."

"No, Nate", Dr. Porter replied, shaking her head. "This isn't about being stuck-"

She glanced back into her apartment where her husband was sitting at the table with a toddler.

An unexpected twinge in Nate's chest pulled an involuntary wince out of him.

Porter noticed.

"Let's go to the Commons. We'll have a bit more privacy there."

Nate found himself nodding in agreement.

A few minutes later they were sitting beside several large planters and a fountain that looked like it would have been more at home in a baroque style city than the Institute.

"I'm just here to follow along", she said, voice mellow and agreeable in that aggravating fashion the ex-soldier had heard so many times before. "Go wherever you want."

The best way to do this would be to stay as honest as possible, or if he was going to lie, keep it close to the truth.

"You admitted I was being manipulated." She nodded, a small frown on her lips. "How long was I being manipulated for?"

"Shaun wanted to bring both you and Damon onboard", the shrink replied. "He knew you and Damon trusted each other, but once your friend proved he was a danger to us and our cause, your son thought it would be best to keep things as simple as possible."

"Are you saying it was since he broke into the FEV lab?"

"More or less."

Nate shook his head. "That isn't an answer."

Her frown deepened. "It is the best I am aware of. I didn't know of any contingencies regarding Damon prior to that."

Good enough for now. "Fine. So he decided to strain our relationship to the point he could take advantage of it. I'm guessing that's why he requested Damon bring Nora's body back, and why he had several conversations with me between that and the Brotherhood attack. That's why he had more after the attack, mostly about what we needed to do to secure the Institute."

"In part, but you must understand none of those things are unique to his relationship with you, Nate. All of us want to do everything we can to keep the Institute safe."

The ex-soldier nodded. "Yes, which is why you can justify manipulating people and feeling it isn't wrong."

Silence settled over the two of them again as the shrink eyed him suspiciously. Had he gone too far? Was he letting a little too much of his irritation come through?

"What's your intention here?" she asked eventually.

"Are you asking about this conversation, or what I'm doing at the Institute?"

"Let's start with this conversation."

Nate threw up his hands. "I just want to understand why my own son thought he had to kill Damon- why he decided to use me to do it."

Porter eyed him with something akin to pity. "You feel betrayed."

"Obviously."

"I understand. It isn't something anyone would be comfortable with, especially given the circumstances."

Really? No one would be comfortable with being used to kill their best friend? You don't say.

The ex-soldier may just be here as an act, but the patronizing was bringing out some very real anger.

"But", she continued, "if you truly do want to understand it would help if you knew why we are willing to do almost anything to ensure the prosperity of the Institute."

Oh? Even kidnap families and experiment on them?

He motioned for her to continue, expression as impassive as he could manage.

"Everyone here is aware the things we do could be considered unsavory." The shrink frowned. "Without compromising the privacy of my patients, I'm privy to a lot of them. Many of our people have trouble dealing with them, which is why Father employs a robust psychiatry department. We suffer these things because the fate of humanity rests is resting on our ability to create and advance new technologies, while also learning how to deal with the problems we see in the Commonwealth above."

Porter paused again to glance around them. "The FEV experiments are truly awful, and you won't hear me or anyone else say otherwise, but the Supermutants are an existential threat to humanity. They may be dumb, but they're incredibly resilient. In addition, the Forced Evolutionary Virus causes unchecked mutations in other flora and fauna, as was stated when Damon first broke into our labs."

Her expression changed again, eyes searching his face, maybe for understanding, or acceptance- he didn't know. The ex-soldier gave her as little as possible. Mentioning the SPARTAN wasn't a coincidence; he'd realized that, for her youth and perceived geniality, she was calculating. Is that why Shaun had her working with him?

"I'm sure you remember my personal mantra for what we do here."

A short quiet fell over them. Of course he remembered it. Even in the state he'd been in when she said it the first time, the words rung ominous in his emotionally beleaguered mind: For the Greater Good.

It was obvious she was waiting for him to say something. A part of him, his ego, wanted to wait, let her say it. She was trying to get him to engage, but he really didn't want to.

I have to. This is the entire reason I'm here.

"For the Greater Good", Nate bit out, the edge on his voice more involuntary than not. Porter didn't seem fazed.

"Yes. For the Greater Good", she replied with a nod. "We do things because we are in a position to best benefit humanity."

"Then how do you justify it? Kidnapping people, putting the fear and suspicion you do into the people above ground?" He waved a hand around them at the cavernous chamber that must have taken more engineering and materials than all the settlements and towns he and Damon had been to combined. "Why haven't you shared any of it with them?"

"You said it yourself: they're afraid of us."

The ex-soldier squinted at her. "That's your fault. What, you're going to wait until people decide you're okay? That isn't how this works. I know I don't need to tell you that."

"I believe that is part of the reason Father wanted to recruit you, to install you in a leadership position."

What? That didn't make any sense?

"What do you mean?"

"We've all been living in the Institute our entire lives. More than that, the vast majority of the families here, outside of Father and Dr. Li, have spent generations in the Institute. You- even if most of your social experience has been from before the war- haven't."

Nate blinked, watching the slender woman's impassive expression, looking for a clue about what she meant. He wasn't there to teach them how to fight a war? The ex-soldier was there for… public relations? That- how does that make sense? Aren't there a thousand better ways to improve their relationship with the people of the Commonwealth than him? Than a damaged, 250 year old soldier?

But the possibility Shaun hadn't been exploiting him solely for his combat experience, that he wanted him there to make a difference was… relieving. Damon hadn't been wrong, but he hadn't been entirely right either. Yes, they needed to win a war against the Brotherhood, but they also wanted to change, to get more involved with the survivors in the ruined city and wilderness above.

Despite himself, the infantryman felt a spark of excitement shoot through his chest. He did have the opportunity to make things better. He had an opportunity to help, to maybe make up for some small modicum of the damage he'd done. And… it put Shaun's decision to kill Damon into perspective. A horrible, sickening, but now understandable perspective.

They didn't want to become a military power, they just wanted to win this war. To them, the armored titan was nothing more than a weapon. That's something they not only didn't necessarily need, but they didn't want.

The ex-soldier wanted to puke. Damon may not have always acted like it, hell, the SPARTAN might not have even thought so himself. But dammit he was more than that, and it was another searing knife in his side that misunderstanding is what led to his death.

"You- Shaun wants me to help bridge the gap between the Institute and the people above?" the ex-soldier asked, unable to keep the surprise, and hope, out of his voice.

Porter nodded slowly. "More than that, he wants you to help guide some of our goals, to align them with ones that may more readily assist the Commonwealth."

Help guide the Institute? Nate leaned back in his chair, staring at the shrink who had a slim, gentle smile on her face.

"Why keep that a secret? Why play this cloak and dagger game then?"

"Because-"

An alarm blared before Porter could continue. Fear flashed in her suddenly dinner plate sized eyes as she hurriedly stood from her chair, knocking or over backward. That alarm- it was the same as the one before the Brotherhood attack. But they said they'd secured the molecular relay. How did-

The plan. Sam. She escaped.

"Unscheduled departure", the droning voice sounded through the facility's PA system. "Recovery team, report to SRD."

That's right. They needed him here to give him an alibi during the escape. After that, he needed to attach himself to the recovery effort and make sure Sam was captured after her memory was erased. Otherwise he needed to go through with that favor.

But if Shaun wants him involved in the leadership efforts anyway, isn't this undermining that? If he went along with this-

I have to. If I don't the entire group gets found out. They're just trying to do what's right, and considering what the Institute does, I have to agree. Besides, as long as we do this right, it doesn't hurt anything.

Shaun wants him to be there, to help change the Institute, to help them give their technology and help to the people of the Commonwealth. It was- well it was an incredible revelation, one that made Nate… genuinely excited.

One thing at a time. If I need to change plans after this, I'll do that.

"I need to go", he said to the frightened looking doctor. "If that's what I think it is, I need to be involved in this."

Porter looked at him, eyes still wide, but some of the fear had drained away when she realized they weren't under attack.

"What do you think this is?"

"An unscheduled departure? Right now? I know there's been an issue with escaping Synths, right? Unless something else is going on, the deployment of our raid parties would provide the perfect cover for one getting away." He stood from his chair. "If I'm right, we can't risk them being captured by the Brotherhood. We need to get them back now."

The ex-soldier began toward the staircase with a certainty he didn't feel.

It didn't do his conscience any good, especially considering the circumstance, but Damon had been wrong.

"Better get used to being a monster, Nate. You'll have to if you want to stay with the Institute. You won't change what happens here, and you won't fix anything in the Commonwealth."

He didn't have to become a monster to help his son. If it was the truth, if Porter was being honest with him, he could change things, he could make things better.

I can do this, Damon. It won't make up for what I did, but it's a start.

Weaving his way back through the facility to the Synth Retention Division, the ex-soldier entered the main entrance that also doubled as a prep area. It wasn't large, but the steel walled room had enough space for a dozen people along with a wall dedicated to equipment and an alcove with five terminals currently being manned by SRD techs. He found a half dozen Coursers, including X6-88 standing in front of Ayo, Brown, Jackson and two other SRD technicians he'd only seen a few times.

"-finds out how this happened. Especially now of all times", the SRD leader said, furiously pacing back and forth. His eyes shot to the infantryman as he came to a stop just inside the room. "And to what do I owe the pleasure, Nate."

With some difficulty, the ex-soldier pushed the thoughts of his conversation with Porter to the side. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say a Synth escaped."

The SRD leader's face was its customary red, eyes wide, but unlike Porter, it was in anger. "I do not see-"

"It's my business because I'm leading the war effort against the Brotherhood", he interrupted, trying to inject as much fire into his voice as he could muster. "If you lose a Synth now, and they capture it-" Her- "-that's a massive security breakdown. They'll be able to gather information from h- the Synth we can't afford to give them." The ex-soldier caught himself at the last moment, making the mistake sound more like exasperation than a misstep. Ayo didn't seem to notice. Maybe he was too angry.

"That is something I am fully aware of. I do not need you telling me what constitutes security risks when that is my job."

"And yet you let one escape." Nate stole a glance at Jackson. The dark skinned man seemed both appropriately alarmed and uncertain. The ex-soldier had to remind himself this was probably the 20th time he'd been through something like this, while it was Nate's first. "I want to be attached to the recovery team. This needs to go off perfectly."

Ayo scoffed. "My Coursers are more than capable of finding the subject before anything happens. You would only slow them down."

"I doubt that", Nate said, "we both know what Damon did to one of your Coursers, and I kept up with him for two months." That wasn't strictly true, but right now the truth wasn't what mattered, it was selling himself. "We can't do this like your normal investigations; we have to hit the ground running and get this done now. That may involve contact with people up there." The ex-soldier motioned at the Coursers, dressed in their customary full length black leather jackets. "They can't go out looking like that, and they need someone who can make things work if we need to change tactics."

A few new sets of footsteps preceded another group approaching the room and Nate turned just in time to see Shaun entering. Madison was behind him, a grim determination set on her face. It was probably because of what they had to do, what Sam was sacrificing, but it worked well for the situation.

"We know where the relay signal terminated", Li said, "we need to get moving before the Railroad or the Brotherhood gets there."

Nate turned back to Ayo. "Have your team change into something more inconspicuous. I'll meet them upstairs."

Shaun cleared his throat, stepping up next to the ex-soldier. "What are you saying? You want to go with them?"

"Yes", the infantryman said, meeting his son's impassive gaze. "This can't be a normal recovery operation. We need to move fast and be flexible. The Coursers are good at hunting the way they're programmed, but we don't have time to do that right now."

When the older man didn't respond, Nate glanced at Li and gave her a nod. "We'll get her back before anything happens."

"I have not agreed to this", Ayo spat. "You may be in charge of the war effort, but the SRD is still my division to run as I see fit."

"We don't have time for this." Nate's urgency wasn't entirely manufactured; despite the teleportation spot being cleared by a reconnaissance team two days ago, there was always a risk something unexpected were to happen. "Until you can come up with a way to create more adaptable programming for the Coursers, we need to do things differently." The ex-soldier looked at Shaun again. "We need to change how we operate- you know that."

"Yes…" the white haired man replied, voice and expression still as robotic as the Coursers'. "I believe we do, but we cannot continue putting you at risk."

That wasn't promising… He had to head this off before Shaun could come up with anything else. But how? What could he offer to keep himself on this mission. He couldn't risk someone else being sent in his place. If he did, they might send someone he can't trust. They might-

Jackson said they needed other people getting field experience. This would be the best opportunity they got; heavy Courser guard, an operation that, ostensibly, doesn't involve the Brotherhood.

"Send Jackson and I", Nate said. "Jackson is as familiar with the Coursers and how they operate as anyone else, and you're right, we need other people with time out in the Commonwealth. I can't be the only one with time above ground, and we'll need as much as possible."

The SRD tech stepped forward a little too quickly. "I agree. This is a mission I can gain experience on with minimal risk, and I am well acquainted with recovery operations."

A general sense of agreement pervaded from the other assembled SRD personnel as they nodded their assent.

All except for Ayo.

"So you are not only asking me to send someone with no recovery experience, but also one of my best people", he said, voice so cool it could have frozen air.

"You know it's the right move", Nate replied, frustration mounting. "We don't have time for this. We all know what the correct decision is, your obstinance isn't helpful."

"I am dubious as well, Justin", Shaun said before the SRD leader could respond, "but he is correct: we need to do this quickly, and the more options available to our recovery efforts in the future, the better."

Silence settled over the crowded prep room, the Coursers still standing stoically at attention while every other eye was glued on Ayo. His face was cherry red, but the small man's glare was locked on Shaun. It seemed like an eternity, though the pause couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but eventually he nodded.

Jackson stepped forward. "The target is C2-61, designation Samantha. She worked in the hydroponics processing center. It is unknown how she obtained the knowledge and resources necessary to escape. If we are able to capture her before the Railroad, we may have the opportunity to examine her memories for more information on the ring she worked with."

The SRD technician marched over to a large screen set in the wall behind Ayo. It flickered into life, displaying an area map of Boston.

"This is the position she teleported to", he said pointing at an area near the north west corner of downtown. It was well out of the way of the zone they deemed 'dangerous', especially after their last mission. Hopefully, the position would provide enough difficulty tracking her the ruse would be believable. "If we deploy within fifteen minutes", he drew a circle on the screen, "this is the are she may have been able to reach safely." Most of it was the largely destroyed suburbs of the city. Of course, Nate already knew they would find her hiding in a partially collapsed tower about 250 meters south of where she teleported, but he needed to give them something.

"She wouldn't head north, too exposed and too much risk with the Brotherhood around."

"Agreed. Normally, the Railroad operates underground, but there are no subways in this area, the nearest one is here." Jackson pointed to another spot on the screen, at least a mile and a half to the east. "She wouldn't risk that journey, not without an escort."

Ayo grunted. "We can assume the Railroad will be hesitant to expose themselves again. This must have been a mistake- there is no way to get to that area quickly without risk of being seen. They may think C2-61 can hide until nightfall when they are able to move."

"I believe so", Jackson replied, "but I don't think we can assume this was a mistake. Considering how difficult they've been to pin down recently, we have to approach this with caution."

Nate nodded. "We can probably limit our searches to the south. Outside the city proper is too risky, and the area east would be considered high risk. Plus, we have teams operating in those sectors- whoever organized this would know that."

"This area was cleared by our reconnaissance teams two days ago", Brown said, eyeing the map suspiciously, "but with the increased Supermutant activity, we can't assume we won't run into them either."

"So we need to approach this with caution", the ex-soldier echoed. "Come prepared for anything from the Railroad to the Brotherhood, move quick and quiet, and be careful to stay away from ambush sights or potential traps." He glanced at the Coursers who were still standing in silence, staring unblinkingly at the screen. It really was an eerie sight. "We know what kind of traps the Railroad likes using."

They didn't actually have any Railroad threat to worry about, but this was still a useful exercise; there were a dozen other threats they might run into. The Brotherhood was chief among them, but besides Supermutants, they also had Raiders, Gunners, random, roving bands like the one they ran into at the factory, feral Ghouls, and plenty more.

"We'll have three groups: two Coursers on point, two more with Jackson and I, two more as rear guard. Move fast and keep each other covered."

The ex-soldier got a nod from Jackson, nothing from the Synths, a still rage tinged stare from Ayo, and a blank expression from Shaun.

With no further suggestions, or objections, Nate turned and marched from the room. He had equipment to gather, and a head to get on straight. As much as he shoved the conversation with Porter aside, he could still feel it swirling at the back of his mind. The implications about his future role, their reason for wanting to kill Damon, and what the Institute's goals might be. Maybe if this mission was successful, he'd discuss it with Li. She would have a better insight into what might be going on.

For now he needed to focus.

A few minutes later, the ex-soldier was gathering his equipment, pulling his satchel on, slinging his rifle, the same rifle he'd gotten from the Brotherhood what felt like a lifetime ago, and checking his magazines. His heart was pounding again, and he could feel adrenaline begin teasing into his veins. As he left his room and headed for the elevator that would take him to the Molecular relay, he felt the same nervous energy as every time he left the Institute since the ambush wash into his arms.

Had the SPARTAN really been that much a comfort when they fought?

Nate almost laughed at himself as he began through the Commons. Of course he had. Damon was someone he trusted, not just because of his inhuman combat prowess, but because he knew the young man. He trusted the armored titan would do everything in his power to keep Nate alive, even from early on in their time traveling together. The memory of searing pain exploding in his chest flashed through his mind. The next thing he knew, the SPARTAN was over him, holding gauze to the wound, somehow surviving the ambush and bringing him along.

A deep breath rattled through the infantryman as he saw Jackson approach the elevator from the opposite direction. The dark skinned man was dressed similarly to Nate: khakis, a dark jacket, and MOLLE belt with several pouches arranged on it. Unlike the ex-soldier, Jackson was cradling one of the Institute's laser rifles.

He couldn't hide the slight tremor in his hands.

Even if the SRD technician wanted to go to the surface, wanted to gain field experience, he was scared. It occurred to Nate the man had never been out of the Institute before- none of the scientists beside Shaun and Madison had. Jackson wouldn't know what to expect. That was the worst thing for Nate after he'd first woken up in this destroyed version of his home: he had no clue what was waiting for him.

The difference was, Damon was there. Even though he knew nothing about the man who would become his protector, he'd seen what the SPARTAN had done to the Raiders who attacked Sanctuary that first night.

It's my turn now. Nate wasn't Damon- he wasn't superhuman. But he'd be damned if he let Jackson down here. They'd get Sam and come back safe.

"Jackson", he said, steadying his own voice as they stepped into the elevator that would take them to the top of the Institute, "when we get out there, stick by me." The ex-soldier flashed a smile. "We'll be fine. Just keep taking deep breaths, watch your step, and take things slow and steady. Don't expect yourself to know what to do the first time out. If you need something, let me know. You may think you're being a burden, but the way we both get back safe is if you're honest with yourself. You're scared, that's normal. Accept it and move forward knowing that will affect you. You got me?"

The other man met Nate's gaze and, after a moment of silence, the only sound the elevator being whisked up to the Molecular Relay, he nodded.

"Good. Remember, adrenaline can make it difficult to pay attention to detail, you might not be able to read, you'll act without thinking. Make sure you keep that in mind at all times."

"Anything I can do about it", Jackson said, struggling to control his voice.

"A few." The elevator lurched to a stop. "Shake your arms and legs out before we teleport, stay relaxed, and take slow deep breaths. It's a message to your body everything is okay. After the initial shock, you'll start calming down."

As the doors slid open and admitted them to the hall leading toward the teleportation bays, Jackson grunted. "Hopefully we get a little time at the start then."

Nate offered another small smile. "We can take some to get everyone settled." He held out his hand, trembling ever so slightly. "You aren't the only one. I'm so used to having someone watch my back it's… been hard the last few times."

Lowering his arm, the ex-soldier shrugged and understanding flashed across Jackson's face.

The two of them stepped out of the elevator and headed toward the teleporters. Their Coursers were already waiting, each now dressed in some variety of what they thought was the garb most people in the Commonwealth wear. It largely consisted of well worn looking combat bottoms, boots, and various jackets over their equipment carriers. Two had the gauss rifles they were, supposedly, keeping secret, while the others had Li's improved design of laser rifle. It was a good call, they could only get through a few dozen shots before needing to be rebuilt, but if they were in a gunfight any longer than that, they were in trouble.

"Let's get going", Nate said and marched toward the nearest Molecular Relay bay. The butterflies in his stomach only grew stronger as he stepped inside, followed by Jackson, X6-88, and X2-17. They weren't Damon, but they were the two Coursers the ex-soldier was most comfortable with. It would have to work.

"Deep breath, relax", he muttered. Nate said it to himself, but when he glanced at the other man, Jackson nodded at him. It must have been loud enough for him to hear.

An instant later, the teleporter energized and they disappeared in the customary blinding light.

X

The initial nausea of teleporting (however it works) hit Jackson the same way it had Nate. As the brilliance of their transition faded, the SRD tech staggered before dropping to his knees. An instant later, the dilapidated tile floor of the lobby they were transported to was covered in his breakfast.

Something very similar happened when Nate and Damon first entered the Institute.

While the other man gathered himself, the ex-soldier began scanning the room as the team of Coursers fanned out around them. It was large, with a ceiling maybe 20 feet above them, and what looked like it had been very nice furniture around 200 years ago arranged around the now crumbling space.

Afternoon light was streaming in from the shattered windows which gave way to the decrepit cityscape beyond. Even after months wandering around the city, it was still jarring to see. It still didn't make any sense to the ex-soldier.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he glanced back at Jackson who was gathering himself off of the rubble strewn floor. With a grimace, the dark skinned man wiped his mouth and nodded. The determination in his eyes was admirable- he wanted to get Sam back. Nate did too, but the unease of what they asked her to do- no, what she volunteered for still gnawed at the back of his mind.

"Move out", Nate whispered, and the first two Coursers slipped out into the street. Normally, this type of mission would take significantly more manpower, and time. The ex-soldier had been involved in plenty of grid searches before, and to say they were tedious would be an understatement. A big one.

Working in their favor, though, was the limited area Sam could have used safely, and the fact that almost every inch of street and sidewalk was covered in rubble. He didn't have to be an experienced tracker to pick up a trail, especially considering their 'mark' wasn't exactly trying not to leave one.

"I have tracks", one of the Coursers whispered as Nate and Jackson exited with their Synth escort. She was kneeling near a pile that, at one point, had been brick work, studying several pieces of disturbed rubble. It wasn't obvious, but the ex-soldier could see it had been shifted very recently. The concrete sidewalk in that spot was far less weather worn than the area around it, and the same anomaly repeated itself ten feet later.

The woman pointed to something else on the ruined sidewalk and said, "these treads are from standard field footwear. This is C2-61's path." Nate couldn't see what she was talking about, but he'd have to trust her. Besides, he already knew where she'd be hiding, and this was in the right direction. Might as well roll with it.

"Good", Nate said, careful to keep his voice low, "follow it."

With a nod, the Courser stood and, along with her partner, began skirting past the buildings. After a few seconds, the two of them melted into the shadows cast by the once impressives structures around them. It wasn't just darkness, they'd disappeared. The ex-soldier had known about their cloaking technology, but it was the first time he'd seen it in action.

How the hell had Damon found one of them?

20 seconds later, the two men and their escort followed, careful to maintain spacing so, if they did happen across an ambush they wouldn't all be caught at once. Jackson, for his part, still looked nervous, but his step was relatively light, and the technician seemed attentive. The discomfort that settled into Nate's stomach didn't recede. If anything, it was more pronounced than when they started. Here they were, waltzing through the ruins of Boston with any number of things that could go wrong.

Of course, he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be in his position, but that didn't mean he felt good about it. The ex-soldier realized even before the ambush, something had broken in him. Whatever allowed him to set the fear of injury or death aside and focus on the mission for so many years was gone. It had vanished the instant he saw his brother in arms, another soldier Nate was sworn to protect, take a round through the eye.

With the SPARTAN around, it was easy to fool himself into thinking it was just jitters, because Damon could handle most things that came their way. Now, faced with the idea he was again his own best defense, those jitters weren't relegated to the back of his mind anymore.

As they stalked through the city, following X6-88 who seemed to be able to track his cloaked counterparts, the sun cast longer and longer shadows across the streets and alleys they wandered. It was slow going, stopping regularly, taking detours, checking blind spots, scouting the entrances to several of the collapsing structures around them.

Their point men were taking Nate's instructions about going slow and staying cautious seriously. He'd be lying if he said that wasn't a relief. More than a few times, they backtracked a street to avoid an uncertain looking intersection, or circumvent a passable, but still risky blockage.

By the time they neared the tower Sam would be hiding in, the sun was beginning to sink toward the tops of the buildings west of them.

Her hideout was a squat, long building in a business park that looked like it had seen far better days in the past. In fact, the one she was in was the only still standing structure.

If she really was there waiting for the Railroad, it would be a pretty good hiding spot. That's why Isaiah had chosen it.

X6-88 motioned them to a halt a block north of their target. The four of them took cover near one of the dilapidated buildings on the west side of the street. "We may have found C2-61", he whispered, voice still managing to stay oddly monotonous. "Z4-10 is confirming now."

The ex-soldier's heart crept into his throat. He knew this would happen, he knew they would find her. Even so… this wasn't something he was looking forward to. More than that, he was worried for Sam. He felt sorry for her, regardless of what Jackson, Li, Isaiah, and any of the other members of this party told him. He felt sorry because he was beginning to wonder if it was necessary. If their plan was to involve him in leadership to help change the Institute for the better-

"We seem to have encountered a problem", X6-88 whispered again. "There are signs of Gunner activity."

That had Nate's undivided attention.

"What do you mean 'signs'?"

The dark skinned Courser turned to him, dark sunglasses hiding eyes the infantryman knew were just as emotionless as his voice. "They have found several of them. The group appears to be tracking C2-61 as well."

The pit in Nate's stomach dropped out into a yawning chasm.

"Go help them, we'll catch up. We cannot let S- C2-61 be captured, understood."

X6-88 nodded. "Yes sir."

Without waiting for any other orders, the Courser almost seemed to melt from view as he turned and hurried toward their target.

They couldn't let the Gunners get to her. If they did, he had no doubt they'd sell Sam to the Brotherhood.

He wouldn't let someone else down like that. Not after Julian.

Turning to Jackson he found the other man already staring at him, wide eyed and jaw set. He looked scared, but had it under control. "Stay close and keep your head down. No heroics, don't take any fight you don't know you can win. X2-17, your lead."

After receiving a nod, the ex-soldier motioned their remaining Courser forward and the three of them crept toward the target. The thick, heavy silence that had accompanied them throughout the journey was almost unbearable all of a sudden. It was like the city was leaning in over him, trying to smother Nate in its destroyed, crumbling grasp.

If he let Sam down, if his idea put her in even more danger-

They made it about half way to the large, yellowing building when the first shot rang out. It was the odd, subdued report of a laser weapon inside their target, shortly followed by a hail of conventional fire.

Shit- shit, no. I can't let her get captured. They weren't too late, they couldn't have been. Damon said the Courser he killed had torn through a dozen Gunners before he caught up. There were three of them in there. That had to be enough.

Right?

The yawning absence left by the SPARTAN felt that much more pressing as they double timed it toward the escalating gunfight.

Their target had plenty of collapsed walls to choose from for an entrance. X2-17 led them to one adjacent to a set of service stairs. Inside were was the remains of desks, terminals, and a multitude of decrepit office furniture scattered across a massive room that looked like it took up most of the first floor.

None of that mattered though, what mattered is they get to Sam and get her back to the Institute before anything happened.

They climbed to the third level of the structure and emerged into a long, dim hall, only lit by the fading sunlight filtering through the holes in the roof and cracks in the wall. The gunfire was coming from up ahead, and it was increasing in volume.

If it weren't for the deafeningly loud gunshots ringing out ahead of them, the loudest thing would have been the ex-soldier's heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. This wasn't the same as the last two times he'd been out; it was a gunfight he was going to be a part of.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

The ex-soldier could feel himself on the verge of another episode. A flash of the Supermutant's exploding head careened through his mind.

One step at a time. One shot at a time.

Doing his best to suppress the lump in his throat, Nate crept down the dimly lit hall, plasterboard, and sheetrock making it difficult to move quietly. X2-17 was 15 feet in front of him, hugging the left wall, rifle trained on the far end of the passage. Several doors lined their path and stopping to clear each slowed them, but the last thing they needed was to be caught unawares. Their Courser escort was thorough and efficient though, and a few terrifying moments later, they arrived at a T intersection. The fighting was coming from the left-

A round crashed through the corner of the wall as the Synth peered around it and all three of them dropped to the ground.

Another shot sprayed more sheetrock across them, and another. Whoever was down there knew they had to keep them pinned or they'd be in trouble.

With the roaring gunfire spraying in their direction, it was impossible to tell how many Gunners they were facing, but it couldn't have been many, right? They were fighting three Coursers, if these things were as good as Ayo kept flaunting… how was this taking so long?

"Cloak and go!", Nate shouted at X2-17 over the deafening reports. "Take the far side of the hall, I'll cover you."

The Courser nodded and carefully raised herself into a crouch. The ex-soldier followed suit and squeezed himself next to her on the corner. He held up three fingers and counted down. When the last one dropped, she faded from view. He was really about to do this- stick his head out into the hall and start shooting.

Yes. I am. Now put your balls back on and go.

After a trio of pounding heartbeats thudded through his chest, the infantryman dropped to a knee and edged around the corner. He exposed as little as possible and propped the rifle on the crumbling plasterboard.

His eyes took a snapshot of the scene in front of him: at least a half dozen green armored forms of the Gunners were crowded in the hall, probably a lot more, firing down toward the far side of the hall. Nate's next breath came slow and steady as he tightened his finger around the trigger of his rifle. It's weight was familiar, comforting. It felt exactly like the rifle he carried for a decade and a half.

Adding its own voice to the cacophony, Nate's rifle barked a round out and it crashed into the first Gunner's chest. It sent them tumbling to the ground- that meant they were probably still in it. Another enemy fighter sighted on him and years of drilling saved his life.

Dropping his knee out from under him, the ex-soldier pitched backward, firing again as he did. The Gunner's gun went off in the same instant and Nate felt the round crack by a few inches from his left ear. His own round caught the woman in the neck, but he didn't get to see the results as he fell back and rolled behind the corner once again.

More gunfire speared through the wall, sending pieces of drywall flying. Nate caught a handful in the face, temporarily blinding him.

The ex-soldier's job was done though, he'd distracted their forces long enough to get X2-17 into the hallway. He couldn't risk firing blindly back through the wall for risk of hitting her, but hopefully he didn't need to-

A new sound caught his attention, barely audible over the raging fight in the adjoining corridor.

What was-

Oh shit.

More shooting. There was another fight going on outside. The two Coursers on rear guard were engaged. Was it more Gunners? Brotherhood? Supermutants?

I can't worry about that now. One problem at a time.

Brushing the plasterboard particles from his face, Nate's hand came away slick. When he pried his eyes open, he found a streak of blood over his palm. He felt around his face and found the cut across his cheek. That was fine, it wouldn't impede his vision, and it wasn't very deep. They couldn't stay here though, the risk of being flanked by whatever reinforcements showed up wasn't something he was going to mess with.

"Go!" The ex-soldier shouted, turning to Jackson who was pressing himself to the floor, clutching his laser rifle like his life depended on it. "We need to move."

The other man stared at him, wide eyed, but he nodded before struggling to find his feet.

The two of them hurried back down the hall and into an adjoining room. Nate remembered one of them led to another hall further down. It would give the infantryman a new angle to engage the Gunners and get them away from the service staircase. That at least provided some buffer from any of the new party members that made it past the Coursers outside.

Problem was they entered the wrong room.

Dammit.

They rushed back into the corridor and into another room. Nate found it on the third try and they sprinted through the mess of collapsed office furniture, overturned desks, and destroyed terminals to the far end. It led them out into another hall and Nate led Jackson back to the corner.

In the 30 seconds it had taken them to reposition, the volume of gunfire had slowed ever so slightly. When the ex-soldier peaked around the corner, he found five of the Gunners laying dead. It was impossible to tell what had killed them, but he saw a pool of blood under the one he'd shot in the neck. An unexpected spark of satisfaction flit through the back of his mind. He can do this, he can do this.

As he watched, another Gunner caught a laser bolt to the back of the head and tumbled forward. It seemed as if it appeared from nowhere. Nate had just enough time to catch a glimpse of the now pinned mercenaries begin spraying at the space X2-17 had been in before ducking back behind the corner. Bullets chewed through the wall as he scrambled away. It looked like there were maybe seven or eight of them left. They were clumped together and flanked on both sides. That was a death sentence.

A relieved breath found its way out of Nate as he allowed himself an instant of reprieve. That meant-

"YEAH! FUCK YOU BITCH!"

The shout was so loud the ex-soldier could hear it over the roar of gunfire.

A cold grip wrapped around his chest and Nate forced himself to peak back around the corner.

Oh shit, oh shit.

Three more Gunners were laying on the floor, dead, making a total of eight but-

Had one of them scored a lucky hit? They couldn't see her- was it just chance?

X2-17 was visible again, laying on the floor halfway between Nate and the Gunners. Half of her head was missing.

The pit in the infantryman's stomach that, at some point, had faded was back in full force. Not only was that one of his people, but she was also their ticket back to the Institute. Without her-

Adapt. What do I need to do now?

Nate leaned out a little more, just enough to bring his rifle up and squeezed off half of the magazine before ducking back once more to avoid the barrage of gunfire. He scored hits on three, downed two.

This had to get done fast. He needed to get Jackson and himself over to the other Coursers before anyone else managed to get inside.

Three left.

A few seconds later, laser reports from the far end of the hall ripped through the corridor and the conventional gunfire stopped. The other three Coursers had finished the last of the Gunners. Good that meant-

Pounding boots ringing on the metal steps of the service staircase were immediately evident in the relative quiet. It was too late.

Change the plan.

"X6-88", he screamed down the hall, "X2-17 is down, take Sam and go." Nate heard the door to the service staircase burst open. He didn't know how many managed to make it past, or if the rear guard was still alive, but he couldn't take the risk. "We'll meet back at CIT. Do it now."

"Affirmative!" came the reply. Even given the adrenaline and fear rushing through the ex-soldier, he had the capacity to find it odd the tone of the Courser didn't shift, even when he was shouting.

Nate turned to Jackson and pointed down the hall. "Move!"

Without waiting for him to oblige, the ex-soldier pivoted back toward the approaching enemies and raised his rifle. Firing on the move is something he spent countless hours drilling. 'Dynamic fighting' was the buzzword he'd heard over and over. It sounded stupid, but here, just like so many times during his almost two decade career, it saved his life.

Flexing his knees, he began walking backward in a half crouch, elbows tight to his side as he sighted on the corner to keep the rifle supported and steady. Move too abruptly, you won't hit a damn thing, the key is to keep it smooth and your weapon as still as possible.

He didn't give their pursuers a chance to round into the corridor. Nate emptied what was left in his magazine into the wall and he heard the scrambling boots on debris over the reports as they hurried to stop.

Behind him, Jackson's footsteps were clattering back up the hall. They needed to move; he wasn't Damon, he couldn't face off against whatever opponents he wanted. The first group had been caught out by their flank, this one wouldn't be.

As the rifle's bolt locked open, Nate swapped magazines with a practiced ease that belied his years of familiarity with the weapon.

The green flash of a Gunner's body armor appeared in the hall and the ex-soldier opened fire once again. The 7.62 full metal jacket rounds slammed into their target, sending him to the ground as blood exploded from his head. Nate put one more shot into the downed man before returning his sights to the corner.

Risking a glance behind him, he saw Jackson at the end of the hall, waving him toward an open door.

After the ex-soldier sent another half dozen rounds crashing into the wall, most of the corner now missing, he turned and double timed it through the exit. More pounding footsteps echoed from the hall, Nate couldn't tell how many there were, but he knew they'd managed to get past the Coursers outside. Whether that meant they killed them, or they avoided them, it didn't matter. With their inability to raise them, he couldn't take the chance either way.

The two of them raced through the decrepit building full of destroyed furniture and computers until they found another service staircase. Pounding down the concrete stairs, Nate cleared their exit before slipping out into the hall. Everything that happened now was on him; there was no one, not even one of the Coursers to watch his back. No offense to Jackson, but this was the first time he'd been out of the Institute, let alone in a firefight.

Goddammit.

Nate made it a point to exit the opposite side of the building from where they entered. It wasn't a certainty the Gunners wouldn't be patrolling that side, but considering they'd at least engaged the rear guard, it would be less likely.

As he observed on his way in, most of the other buildings in the business park were little more than mounds of rubble. There, luckily, weren't many places for an enemy to hide, unless they crammed themselves into the debris. The sun had dropped behind the western horizon, bathing everything in a dull red glow. That meant they had plenty of shadows to stick to, but he didn't want to move in the city at night either. So they'd be spending the night outside.

Have to survive the next few minutes before that becomes a concern.

"Stay here, watch your back", the ex-soldier whispered, "follow me in 30 seconds, stick to the wall, head south."

Jackson looked at him, eyes still so wide they looked as if they were about to burst from their sockets. "Which way is south?"

"Left." When the man nodded hesitantly, Nate grew concerned. High stress, adrenaline pumping, it's easy for someone to make mistakes.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, whisper growing harsher.

"Wa- waiting 30 seconds, then following you out to the left."

"Yes. I want your gun down when you come out. I'll stop you, and I don't need you shooting me. Understood?"

The SRD technician nodded again, dark skin adopting an oddly pale pallor in the reddened light spilling through the door.

"Good."

With one more quick glance around the remains of the parking lot beyond, Nate peaked through the door, crouching as he did to avoid the first shot of any potential snipers lying in wait.

Nothing.

Go.

He exited, hugging the wall to his left and skirting away from the direction they'd entered. While he would have liked to rendezvous with the rear guard, if they survived, if they hadn't there would be Gunners waiting for him. Better to risk a night out in the city than take a round in the head because he was afraid to.

After 20 seconds, the ex-soldier crept to a stop beside a pile of rubble that had once been a building that, judging by the color of the walls, looked a lot like the one they'd been in. Their best chance for an exit would be to head west, out into the suburbs, and wait until the sun came back up. That direction looked like it would be tricky to navigate, collapsed buildings blocking most of that side of the business park, but again, it was better than being shot.

Turning back to the building's exit, he saw Jackson leave, keeping his head down and moving toward him quickly. The man still cradled his laser rifle, but it was kept pointed at the ground.

Good, Jackson might be scared, but he had his head on straight. That was promising.

As the other man neared, Nate waved him to a stop.

"Good job." He pointed back toward the door. "Keep that covered, anything comes through you put a hole in it. I'm moving to the far side of the parking lot, once I'm there I'll cover you. Got it?"

Jackson swallowed but nodded, hefting his rifle.

"Alright." Nate began across the lot, glancing back to see the SRD technician aiming at their exit. For his part, the ex-soldier had his rifle swinging from potential shooter's perch to perch. There were way too many to clear on his own, but the deep shadows he was in, along with the fact he hadn't been shot yet provided a measure of comfort.

A few seconds later, he reached the ruins on the west side of the parking lot and turned to aim back at the lone standing building. Jackson began toward him a heartbeat later and, once he'd joined him, they both began picking their way through the rubble. It wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, but it was their best option. More than a few times, a shifting piece of concrete caused a slip and one of them gashed themselves against something. Once, the dark skinned man hit a piece of rebar, but he waved Nate away when he tried to help. There was a healthy tear in his jacket and cut over his shoulder, but he kept moving.

After suffering through a few minutes of climbing, crawling, falling, and the occasional quiet cursing, they made it out of the ruins. The two found themselves looking into the city suburbs, crumbling houses, apartments, stores, and low lying towers greeted them. By now the sky was a dull blue. It was going to get hard to see soon.

With another moment of hesitation, the two of them hurried into the maze of half collapsed buildings to find someplace safe to stay for the night.

Notes:

Hey! We got back to some action! This is part of what I was talking about in the first author's note, the development of other characters. More of this will happen as we move through the next few chapters, but this is an expansion on one of the story elements we've already started exploring with Nate (chapter 21). I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 36: Decisions and Consequences

Notes:

Well hey again, I'm talking to you from my straight jacket in the asylum of x-over writers! Here we are again. I'd like to say thank you to those who are still with the story. I know the last few chapters have been... different considering Damon's absence. As I said in last week's author's note, there's a reason for that. A very good one. It's important to me that I (and by extension the reader) get the opportunity to explore the world more thoroughly. I've enjoyed writing these chapters from Nate's POV, and I think they add a lot to the story. But hey, that's just me (and I'm the one writing the story MUHAHAHAHAHA :D). Please leave a comment if you're so inclined, I'm always open to feedback, even if it's negative and, as always, enjoy!

Nate sat in the living room of their temporary haven, chewing on a meal bar.

Or maybe 'chewing' was a bit generous for the shuddering motion his mouth was doing. As much as he tried to keep it under control, the ex-soldier was shaking, bad. His breath was coming in struggled heaves, and his hands were trembling so much, he didn't trust them to hold his rifle which was lying next to him. He told Jackson he'd watch the front door while the other man searched the house, and he was, but the only real protection he'd provide would be warning his companion by getting shot.

His mind was racing, pulling at memories he hadn't thought about in years, about firefights he'd been in back during his years in the military. Fighting through cities and suburbs, not dissimilar to Boston, always on the knife-edge of death. Bullets missing him by inches, a few catching themselves on his armor plate. How had he done all of that? How did he get through two decades of that?

The fight a few hours before, that had been benign by comparison, but still, he'd almost been shot twice. He'd killed a few of them too. It was- the familiar, subtle sense of satisfaction, of a job well done, of a target down made itself known again. The man wasn't a sadist, he didn't enjoy killing people, but his enemy dying meant he got to survive that much longer. It meant he might live to see the next day. That's all, he just wanted to survive.

It's what he'd told himself anyway.

After the third attempt to eat his first bite ended the same way it had the last two times, falling out of his mouth, the ex-soldier placed the bar back in the wrapper and put it in a pocket. He wanted to ask what had happened to him, but it was a question he'd asked a dozen times since his first episode with the Supermutants, it was an answer he'd known for a long time.

Despite all of that, he was proud of himself. Nate managed to keep it together long enough to get himself and Jackson out of the fight, and hopefully, the Coursers had gotten back to the Institute with Sam.

Breathing deeply, letting the tension drain from his limbs helped, but he knew he needed time. He never talked with a shrink about PTSD, but they'd mentioned it before. It was… deeply disturbing to feel like he didn't have any control over his body. To know he was panicking, but not being able to do anything about it.

Deep breath. Deep breath.

As he struggled to get his lungs under control, he heard Jackson's footsteps coming back down the dried, frail wooden stairs. A few seconds later, he emerged into the living room.

"Everything looks clear", he whispered. The man was much calmer now, being away from a gunfight did that for most people.

"G- good", Nate struggled out. He didn't try to hide the stammer, he knew he wouldn't be able to.

Jackson looked down at him, a concerned frown on his face. "Are you alright?"

The ex-soldier shook his head. "I have- PTSD." He cleared his throat, struggling to suck in another deep breath.

After a brief pause, Jackson slipped into the living room and sat across from him.

"And- I guess- I guess I haven't killed anyone in- in about two and a half years." The ex-soldier clasped his hands together to try and control their trembling.

"You didn't have to while you were out here looking for Fa- for Shaun?"

Nate thought for a moment, replaying the two months he and Damon had spent wandering the Commonwealth.

"N-no, I didn't. Damon-" the ex-soldier paused, and not entirely because his body was fighting against him. "Damon did most of the shooting. The-there were a few t-times I had to kill some animals", he smirked, "sc-scored a Deathclaw. And Supermutants."

Jackson's eyes widened. "A Deathclaw?"

A small wave of pride surged in the back of the ex-soldier's head, tempered slightly by the knowledge the SPARTAN had already wounded it.

"Yeah", he said with a nod. "Damon- Damon did the heavy lifting, but I got one an-and wounded a few others."

There was a brief pause as the Institute technician blinked. "A few others?"

"Three. There were seven total."

Jackson clamped his hand over his mouth as he sputtered. "Seven?"

"Seven." The ex-soldier smiled, but it was more than a little sickly. "Damon was… i-it's difficult to s-say how good of a fighter Damon was. The first day I knew him h-he killed something like 30 Raiders. And that was an appetizer."

More silence. Jackson's eyes were wide, but it wasn't fear, at least Nate didn't think so. Maybe surprise?

"Were you there when he fought Z2-47?"

"You- you mean the Courser he killed?" the other man nodded. "No. I stayed in Diamond City."

"How did we manage to kill him then?" Jackson mused, more to himself, but the question hit Nate like a freight train.

"It was my fault."

Jackson's eyes snapped back to the ex-soldier. "Sorry, that- that wasn't right of me to ask. I didn't-"

"No", Nate whispered, shaking his head. "I can't hide from it. Shaun used me to do it. I- I-" the ex-soldier paused to clear his throat, suddenly choked with emotion. "I didn't know they wanted to kill him, but I should have. I should have known they were setting me up as a weapon against him. I hurt him. Without going into detail, we had a complicated friendship, but he was changing, figuring out how to care about people, and I threw that in his face." The ex-soldier wasn't stammering anymore, but he couldn't remember the last time his voice was this bitter. Jackson remained silent, watching him with a mixture of curiosity and understanding.

"Then, asking him to destroy the Railroad, and what I did when we were there- it distracted him. He wouldn't have-" Nate's voice caught in his throat. He wouldn't have been caught off guard if I hadn't done that. If Nate had just thought for a second instead of reacting, even though he knew he was incredibly unstable, emotionally. They would have been able to figure it out, and sure, Nate probably wouldn't be in the Institute anymore, but at least the SPARTAN, at least his friend would still be alive.

"Damon's sniffed out ambushes on multiple occasions. I don't think I'd ever seen him caught off guard. If he hadn't been distracted, he wouldn't have been caught in that ambush."

As Nate fell silent, the night pressing down around him, the guilt of what happened hit him full force again. Damon hadn't been changing, he had changed. The SPARTAN cared more about other people than Nate did, that's for damn sure. Hell, the ex-soldier was ready to kill- to have Damon kill the Railroad just to be with Shaun. Despite knowing the armored titan would… disapprove.

"So Shaun used you too", Jackson whispered, breaking into the silence.

The infantryman nodded. "Yeah." He turned away. "I'm still not sure what to think, with everything you and Li said the other day. And now, Porter's telling me Shaun wants me to be a go-between for the Institute and the people out here."

"What do you mean?"

"Apparently he wants to establish more regular relations with the Commonwealth, improve their image so they can help them once the war is over." Nate met the other man's gaze. Jackson was frowning, a hint of confusion on his face.

"I haven't heard anything, but I know the two of them work closely together." He shrugged. "It's possible."

"I don't know", Nate replied, shaking his head. "You don't bring a soldier in for public relations."

"Maybe he has something in mind." Jackson shrugged again. "If I can say anything for your son, it's that he usually has things planned ahead."

"Maybe", Nate echoed before falling silent. So much of this situation didn't make sense. After ambushing Damon? It's possible Shaun didn't want the SPARTAN's influence, that easy solution. Maybe they're dedicated to the idea Porter suggested, but the temptation to use the nuclear option might have been difficult for some to resist. They'd try to use him. Clearly, the Institute already saw other people as means to an end. According to him, Damon had been used as a weapon his entire life, so the connection wouldn't be difficult for them to make.

But they didn't know him, not like Nate did. It might have been different when they first met, but that had been a lifetime ago. For as much as the armored man was still trying to figure things out, he was always as stubborn as they came. Despite everything he'd been through, and some of the more questionable decisions he'd made, he had a conscience. A strong one. If they asked him to do something he didn't like, he wouldn't.

Nate got a taste of that first hand.

Or maybe the ex-soldier was being too charitable; Shaun told him they'd killed him because Damon was a threat.

He didn't know what to think at this point.

"Get some sleep", Nate said, looking back at the other man. "I'll wake you up in a few hours so I can get some shut-eye."

Jackson eyed him suspiciously. "Are you in any shape to be on watch?"

Holding out his hand again, he nodded. It was still trembling, but no more than it had before they left the safety of the Institute.

"I've played guard plenty of times before and, no offense, I'd feel more comfortable with taking first shift. We still don't know if anyone followed us."

The other man held his gaze for a few more seconds, the incredulous frown just visible in the dim living room. Nate maintained the stare. Even if he wasn't operating at 100%, he had infinitely more experience in… unfriendly environments. Experience, in this case, is what mattered. Neither of them were superhuman.

"Okay", the SRD technician finally replied with a shrug. He climbed slowly to his feet and ambled back up the stairs, leaving Nate alone, nothing to keep him company, but the still, cool night air, silence, and his own roaring thoughts.

As the interminable hours dragged on into the night, Nate found himself wondering how Damon had done this time and again while they were up here. The SPARTAN was one of the least patient people he'd ever met most of the time, but he had an impressive ability to slow down to an almost glacial pace when the situation called for it. Thinking about that, why he was able to do that, sparked a small fire of frustration in the back of his mind too. He'd been drilled since he was five to be a weapon, to sacrifice everything for the mission. His comfort may not have been high on that list, but the principle remained.

Every time the ex-soldier checked the display on his Pipboy, thinking an hour or two had passed, it would turn out to be 15 or 20 minutes. It was infuriating.

Even so, he remained still and silent, breathing as gently as he could. It wasn't just to avoid detection, but he didn't want to miss any potential noises that may be his only advanced warning. There was no telling what may be out there looking for them; Gunners, Brotherhood, Supermutants, Kleo. It was simultaneously irritating and terrifying.

After a while, his thoughts began drifting to Samantha, and what had happened to her.

"If something goes wrong, and my mind isn't wiped before you and the Coursers capture me, shoot me."

He obviously hadn't been able to do that. It occurred to him that, if her mind hadn't been wiped by the time they captured her, their secret would be out, and whether Shaun was telling the truth about his intentions wouldn't matter. That thought was nowhere near as frightening as it should have been. It might be because he wasn't sure he wanted anything to do with the Institute and its intentions, whatever those are.

Instead, his thoughts were on the Synth, what she'd given up at his request.

What she volunteered to give up.

That didn't make the idea any easier to stomach. He was usually the one putting himself on the line at the behest of others. The ex-soldier wasn't sure he liked being on the other side of that equation.

Was that selfish? That Nate was thinking about the way he felt when it was Sam who lost everything, regardless of whether her mind wiped or not? Probably. The woman's smile when they met was stuck in his mind though. The way she almost seemed eager to help. In the few minutes he had to meet her, Sam left an impression, and it was the same one he got from Damon: the people around him were better than he deserved.

Then earn it dammit. Sitting here feeling sorry for myself isn't going to change anything.

It was true, he just needed to figure out exactly what that looked like.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Nate checked the time and it was 0100. He could wake Jackson up and get a few hours of shut-eye before the sun came up and they started moving.

Climbing stiffly to his feet, the ex-soldier crept to the stairs, careful to place his feet on the joists to minimize the wooden floor's creaking. Jackson woke with a start when Nate reached the second floor, but he calmed down before doing anything dumb.

As Nate laid down in Jackson's place, he tried to calm his racing mind. It wasn't just being stuck out in the middle of the city's suburbs with a novice watching his back, it wasn't just the mission they'd just done, it wasn't just his sense of dread with what was to come, it was a combination of everything weighing down on the ex-soldier at once. More than anything, he wanted the world to go back to the way it was, for him to open his eyes, laying in bed at home that morning before the bombs fell and his world was destroyed.

That wasn't going to happen though and he knew it.

Make it work the best I can. That's all I can do now.

Those words had kept him moving for so many years now, how long until they didn't work anymore?

X

Sleep didn't come quickly, and when it did, it sucked. Nate hadn't expected anything more though, laying in a destroyed house with who knows what trying to kill him.

Jackson looked exhausted when the ex-soldier roused himself to the thin rays of deep red light spearing through the many holes in the house. They reminded him of the bolts the Brotherhood's laser weapons fired. Not exactly a comforting feeling.

"Let's get moving", Nate whispered as he began pacing the house, looking out each window, careful to remain away and tucked into shadows. The last thing he needed now was to take a shot because he was negligent. With the red light slowly fading to orange, the suburbs around them took on a distinctly hellish appearance. The ex-soldier supposed that fit, considering.

Once he was reasonably sure there were no obvious signs of an ambush lying in wait, Nate slipped out of the house's crumbling back door and began heading north. They had about seven miles of city to cover before arriving at CIT. Their safest path would be to avoid the scene of yesterday's firefight entirely. Provided no one tracked them from where they teleported in, that area should still be clear.

As the trek began, Nate led, the SRD technician trailing 10 feet behind him. It was as stressful as the battle yesterday had been. Despite his panicked reaction, the ex-soldier always found it easier to deal with potential threats when they were already shooting at him. Creeping through the corpse of the city he'd called home for so long, unsure of if or when a shot would come was a great way to fry someone's nerves.

Before they'd made it the first mile, the ex-soldier stopped in a half-collapsed building, both to calm himself and eat the meal bar he hadn't last night. His stomach was on empty, and while it wouldn't necessarily do anything to temper his anxiety, it would give him one less distraction. The occasional gunfights he would hear breaking out around the city weren't doing his concerns any favors.

The sun was above the eastern skyline by then, washing everything in a dull orange and casting long shadows from the buildings around them. That was both good and bad; as long as they kept to those shadows, they'd be difficult targets, but on the few occasions they had to cross an intersection, or debris forced them to the opposite side of the street, Nate's heart rate peaked.

Taking slow, steady breaths helped, but nothing could rid him of the fear and frustration swirling around his head.

It was close to noon, and his nerves were absolutely shot, when the ruined remains of the college's central building came into view between the other, half-collapsed structures, towering over the rest of the campus. The ex-soldier couldn't allow himself to relax; the last hundred yards were always the most dangerous.

"Stay sharp", Nate whispered to Jackson behind him, "we don't know if there are any Brotherhood or Gunner forces in the area. Stick to shadows and keep your weapon ready."

"Got it", came the quiet response. If the other man's voice was anything to judge by, he was even more rattled than Nate.

Despite his fears, the next fifteen minutes passed in relative silence, even the distant spurts of gunfire seeming to fade away. When they finally reached the campus, Nate allowed himself a deep, calming breath.

They'd made it.

"Call it in", the ex-soldier said as the two of them huddled into one of the half-destroyed structures. If he remembered right, this was the humanities building.

So much for that.

"This is Jackson", the SRD tech said into his radio, "Nate and I have arrived back on campus. Can you send a Courser up here for extraction?"

An instant of static-y silence followed, but before any concerns could form in the infantryman's mind, a voice came back. "Yes Jackson, it's good to hear you two are alright. We'll send X6-88 up, where are you?"

"First building inside the northwestern corner of CIT."

"Got it, one moment."

Jackson slumped against the decrepit wall beside them, eyes fluttering closed as he released a heavy sigh.

"That was a lot more than I bargained for."

Nate laughed. It was more relief than anything. "I can't say I disagree. I didn't think it would be that… intense."

"Yeah", the dark-skinned man said, smiling, "next time, remind me to decline your offer to come." The reassurance in his voice was so thick it was almost contagious. Or maybe that was just Nate's own nerves finally unwinding.

True to their word, the telltale brilliant flash of a teleportation lit up the area just outside of their haven. "Nate and Jackson", the monotonous drone of the Courser's voice called quietly.

"We're here", the ex-soldier replied and the two men exited the building to find X6-88 standing just outside.

"Good." The Courser nodded, waving them over.

As soon as they reached him, the intense flare overtook them, and suddenly they were standing in one of the Molecular Relay's bays.

A wave of relief crashed into Nate and his legs went weak. He had to catch himself on one of the large pieces of equipment ringing the small room to stop from dropping to the ground. He turned to Jackson who had collapsed to the steel floor. The two men held each other's gazes for a silent moment before they both began to laugh.

They made it back.

Their return wasn't mankind's greatest accomplishment, but, at that moment, it sure as hell felt like it.

Beyond their small bubble, Nate heard several sets of footsteps hurrying toward them. He craned his head around, feeling muscles popping in his neck to find Shaun, Dr. Li, Porter, Isaiah, and most of their leadership team standing in the room beyond, staring at them. The ex-soldier wanted to say something witty, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn't. His mind was fried, he was exhausted, and he could feel his entire body beginning to tremble again.

It was better than he thought he would be last night though.

"I know-" Nate started before his voice cut out and he had to clear it before he could speak again. "I know there's probably a lot that happened over the last 18 hours, but can it wait a bit?" He glanced down at his legs, still leaning on the equipment for support. "I don't think I'm in any shape to deal with it right now."

Brown began to speak, but Li cut him off. "Yes, it can wait. We still need to hammer out the details." She glanced at the others. "Get some rest, we'll meet in the evening."

The ex-soldier breathed a sigh of relief. Madison was really turning into a lifesaver. He smiled at her in silent thanks.

"Isaiah", she continued, "do you have your notes compiled?"

"Yes", the younger man said, nodding.

"Good, we need to get started." With that, she ushered most of the people standing outside of the small chamber away, leaving only the technician sitting at the controls, Nate, Jackson, X6-88.

And Shaun.

The man's… older son looked, for the first time in a while, at a loss for anything to say. He stared at Nate, eyes and face unreadable, but his slumped shoulders said something was running through his head.

"I-" he said, pausing to frown. "I am relieved you have returned. Sending you out on that mission was a mistake."

Nate blinked. It wasn't exactly a tearful reunion, but it might as well have been considering how much emotion Shaun normally showed.

Pushing himself away, the ex-soldier shook his head. "You didn't send me out, I sent myself out. It was important we got the Synth back."

"I'm the one who signed off on it."

"Shaun… if you want me to be in command of the fighting, you can't think like that, and you can't undermine me." Nate's voice grew harder. "If you don't trust me to lead, don't put me in charge of it."

The Institute leader's frown deepened. "I did not intend to undermine you, I am merely stating I am responsible for the wellbeing of the Institute and everyone in it. That includes you."

How Shaun said that, his tone, caught Nate off guard. The white-haired man's voice was normally as robotic and emotionless as the Coursers'. Now though, there was something creeping past the carefully controlled monotony. It sounded like fear.

Nate walked forward on rubbery legs and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "This is my responsibility too, that's why I didn't want anyone else out there without me." He smiled. "Don't worry, we made it out okay."

It looked like Shaun wanted to say something else, but he kept it to himself and just nodded. "I cannot tell you how happy I am you did."

Unexpected emotion welled up in the ex-soldier's throat as he saw worry crease his son's eyes. Was he being too hard on him? Assuming the worst after what happened? Nate was no shrink, but the emotion that, relatively speaking, was pouring out of Shaun seemed as genuine as it got.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't hit him. Hard.

"Me too", the ex-soldier said, voice thick. "Now, I need to get a bit of real shut-eye. I don't doubt there's a lot to go over with the raids."

The Institute leader nodded and stepped aside. "I will have food brought to your room as well."

Nate smiled. "Thanks."

With that, he shuffled toward the elevator that would take him down to the Institute's main floor, followed by Jackson. The promise of a warm, soft, safe bed was all too alluring.

Even so, Nate didn't allow himself to hit the sack right away. He knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to sleep, or if he did, it would be about as bad as the sleep he'd gotten in that collapsing house: terrible.

Instead, the ex-soldier stripped his gear, setting it on the table as orderly as he could before getting undressed and climbing into the shower. He stood there, hot water running over him, washing away the grim and the tension from the night's events. It was something the infantryman had done countless times before, but this time it felt different. The odd melody of emotions running through his head made no sense. He was proud of himself for handling that situation as (relatively) well as he did, frustrated he hadn't been able to come up with a better solution, and downright angry he'd been in that position in the first place.

Nate's fear didn't just stem from his PTSD or Damon's absence. He was afraid in a way he'd never been during his time in service. He wasn't a soldier anymore, he'd left that life behind. Now the man was supposed to be a civilian, a husband, and father.

But he wasn't.

In a strange way, he found himself exhilarated too. This wasn't what he signed up for, wasn't what he wanted, but despite his fears and his discomfort, his years of training and experience came back to the surface when he needed it. He wasn't just serviceable, he was good. That was also a relief. He might not be the SPARTAN, but he hadn't lost what made him an excellent soldier, even considering the circumstances.

As the ex-soldier shut the water off and dried himself, he felt a small smile slip onto his face. It probably wasn't the best reaction to have after killing people for the first time in years, but knowing if it came down to it, he still could…

That was a good thing.

A few moments later, after he slipped a fresh pair of pants on, Nate crawled into bed, feeling like his body was melting into the mattress. He didn't bother pulling the covers over himself, and the next thing he knew, he was asleep.

Bang.

Nate woke with a start, twisting around and sitting up in bed, hand scrambling for a weapon it took him a moment to realize wasn't there. He'd left his rifle on the table-

Knocking came from the door into the hall, and the infantryman felt his heart begin to slow. It was just someone coming to wake him.

"One sec", he called, looking around for a shirt.

After climbing out of the bed, and pulling a clean white undershirt from a drawer, he padded over to the door and keyed it open.

"Hey", Isaiah greeted him, holding a tray of food and cup of-

Coffee. Black coffee.

Nate's opinion of the young man shot up an order of magnitude.

"Did I wake you?" The way he asked, and his glance at the clothes Nate was wearing told Isaiah already knew the answer, he was just trying to be polite.

The ex-soldier shook his head. "Don't worry about it." His voice was barely audible, even to him. Taking the coffee from the analyst, Nate waved him inside. "Thanks."

"No problem", he replied as he followed him into the living room.

Once he'd taken several too large gulps of the steaming hot nectar, Nate cleared his throat. "Am I keeping things waiting?"

"No, we decided to meet in a half-hour, thought it might be nice to wake up some before hitting the ground running."

The infantryman nodded his thanks. "I appreciate that", he said, sitting on the overstuffed couch. "Maybe you can give me a heads up for what I should be expecting." Nate grimaced, and judging by the look on Isaiah's face, he knew what the older man was referring to. They couldn't talk about Sam though, not when the apartment was probably bugged.

"Well, the big news is both raid parties returned."

There was more to that sentence.

"But…?"

Isaiah frowned. "... But one of them, the ones who were attacking the I-73 route, well the supply caravan they were supposed to hit never showed. After about an hour, they investigated and found it destroyed, a mile north of the ambush location."

The caravan had been destroyed. A Brotherhood caravan. Not many people would want to pick a fight with them outside of the Institute. He had no clue how large the Gunners were, but he doubted they had the firepower to do it. Raiders might be stupid enough to, but considering that caravan had two power armored escorts… would they have the weaponry to? And then what about Supermutants? Hell, it was possible Kleo did it too.

"What did it look like?"

"The ambush?" Nate nodded and Isaiah sat down, placing the tray of food on the couch between them. "It was well coordinated, maybe a bit sloppy though. Someone set an IED in their route. One of the armored guards got taken out by that. The other was peppered with conventional weapons fire. The other four unarmored soldiers were killed the same way. It seems like a lot of extra shooting though, most of the unarmored targets had at least a dozen gunshot wounds."

Well shit. That doesn't really narrow anything down. Well-coordinated, but sloppy. Someone with good planning, but amateur soldiers… That could be Kleo, or an especially good Raider gang. The Gunners too. He doubted any Supermutants would be that patient, so that ruled them out at least.

"I'm guessing there've been some thoughts about who did it?"

"Yes, but I think it would make more sense if you saw the evidence first. In any case, I don't think it affects our plans or timeline. It could have just been someone looking for equipment, supplies, and weapons."

"It was raided."

Even though it wasn't a question, Isaiah nodded. "Picked clean, except the armor."

Nate blinked. "Except the armor?"

Isaiah smiled sympathetically. "That was a surprise at first too, but one of the suits was damaged beyond usability, and even though the other wasn't, I don't think anyone who would perform an ambush like that has the equipment needed to disassemble T-60."

"Oh", the ex-soldier said. Duh. "That's right. And that would be way too heavy to drag anywhere."

"Right."

"Anyway", Isaiah stood, stretching, "I don't want to overload you with anything, just give you a heads up for what's coming your way." He motioned at the food. "I'll leave you to it, I need to get some coffee myself."

"It's a lifesaver", Nate said, smiling.

"Yeah, that's for sure."

With that, the younger man left Nate to his food.

He idly sipped on his coffee while picking at the tray. Someone else had hit the Brotherhood caravan. That meant at least someone out there didn't like them, or at the very least weren't afraid to start a fight with them. Not that it meant anything, or that group would be their ally, but it was a relief in its own way. They might not have allies, but at least they weren't alone in the fight.

Maybe.

After he'd finished eating, Nate pulled on a clean pair of khakis and slipped his boots back on before keying the door open and beginning the short journey to the conference room. From what Isaiah had told him, they had a lot to talk about.

Now that Nate had some live-fire experience with both the Coursers and Jackson, he had a few things he wanted to discuss too.

Some parts of the Institute still showed scars from the Brotherhood's infiltration. It wasn't obvious, a shrapnel spattered bulkhead, laser scoring across an otherwise bright, silver floor, but the signs were a stark reminder. They weren't the only ones looking for a way to break down the other's defenses. The Brotherhood had already managed to hit them at home, and the Institute was still working on putting together a damned offensive.

On top of that, there were parties within the Institute with ulterior motives, including him now. He didn't think Madison or anyone in her group would oppose the fight against the Brotherhood, that would be suicide for them too, but they had other goals. Ones he shared. Putting together the war effort around their plans would make things more difficult. That was something he owed them though.

When the ex-soldier arrived at the conference room, it was already crowded with the usual suspects. The only one missing was Jackson, but he would probably join them shortly.

"Did you sleep well?" Weller asked as Nate strode into the room.

"Better than I did last night on the floor of a bombed-out house."

That drew a smile out of the older scientist. "The Institute is a bit more comfortable than the accommodations out there."

"... Yeah." And yet we don't do anything about that. It had shocked him when Porter said Shaun intended to bridge the gap between the Institute and the Commonwealth the day before, but he wasn't so sure after having most of the night to stew on it. Like he'd said, you don't send a soldier for PR.

But who knows, this entire situation is beyond him.

"Is Jackson joining us, or is he still getting his beauty rest?"

Dr. Ayo nodded. "He will be here shortly."

True to his word, the SRD technician walked into the conference room a few moments later. Looking far better than he had a few hours ago.

"Glad you decided to come by", Nate said with a mocking smile.

Jackson rolled his eyes dramatically. "Well sometimes it's difficult to sleep when you're being shot at."

"We weren't being shot at the entire night." He cleared his throat. "Let's get down to business. Starting with the raids, Isaiah already told me the I-73 route was hit before we could get there, so let's get that one out of the way first."

Brown stepped forward and put a folder on the table. "Yes. It appears to have been hit at least several hours before our team found it." She produced several images from the folder and spread them across the steel surface. The first one she pointed to was obviously the detonation that killed the first armored soldier. It was set directly in the road, which was now a large crater with the twisted heap of what had probably been the suit of power armor tossed off to the side. Whoever was in it had clearly been caught in the blast and thrown across the street.

"Judging from the explosion, this was an improvised bomb. It left a significant amount of soot and the Coursers were unable to find any signs of military-grade explosives. This appears to have been a fuel-air bomb."

"So something simple almost anyone could cook up", Jackson said.

"Yes", Brown continued. "However, judging from the damage to the armor that was caught in the explosion, and the pack animal", she pushed forward a picture of the brahmin, it had lacerations across its heads, chest, and front legs, "this bomb was packed with shrapnel. It's simple to make, but a very well-made IED."

That still didn't really rule anyone besides the Supermutants out. If someone was good enough to come up with an ambush like this, they were certainly smart enough to make an effective explosive, even if it was out of scraps.

Their presenter pulled out four more images of the other people who had been with the caravan. "As for the others, they appear to have been hit quickly; none of them moved far from the pack animal. It is likely they were disoriented from the blast, but whoever put this together knew what they were doing." She pointed at an image of the other armored soldier. Their chest and helmet were riddled with gouges from bullet impacts. One of their lenses was shattered too, dried blood around the housing. "This one was killed directly behind the brahmin. It seems they eliminated the other armored escort before moving to the easier marks."

"So what we have is a well-organized, intelligent group that ambushed this caravan for their supplies", Nate said.

Brown nodded. "It appears that way."

"We need to be careful", Ayo said. "We do not know if this mystery group is amicable to us, or merely hostile to the Brotherhood."

Wow… he said something that makes sense. "Agreed. Do we have any other information about them?"

"No", Weller replied, shaking his head. "The Coursers swept the immediate area but were unable to find any other evidence. The city around it provided no clues, and they couldn't find tracks for whoever did this."

Well… if they'd found who this was quickly, it would just spell signs of other problems. Nothing around here is that easy.

"Alright, we'll have to stay vigilant. We won't need to change much about our methods yet since we're still establishing our supply locations, and don't have regular patrols, but we need to be ready for an ambush like this." He turned to one of the other techs. "I want a model of this ambush, and training for how to counter it ready for the Synths and Coursers."

"A model… timeline, directions of attack, and weapons?" she asked.

Nate nodded. "Best guesses, assume the most difficult circumstances."

"Got it."

"Thanks." That was as much as they could do for the time being. They'd continue studying the scene as part of constructing their training, but unfortunately, there were no clues about who might have done this. That may be an indication itself, but it was dangerous to assume on that front.

"Does anyone have anything else to add?" The ex-soldier scanned everyone assembled in the conference room. No one spoke up. "Okay, let's move on to the successful raid."

That was a far less interesting conversation which, in Nate's experience, was always a good thing. It went off exactly as they planned, and almost identically to this mystery party's ambush sans the explosives. The caravan was larger, five armored escorts, two pack animals, and a half dozen unarmored targets. Their forwardmost fireteam had taken out the lead escorts with gauss rifle fire and the two flanking duos had opened fire as soon as the guards' attention was diverted. Two of the Coursers had been hit in the ensuing gunfight, but no major wounds. They'd recovered their supplies, which included several high-caliber rifles, ammunition, food, and water, but none of those were overly important.

With two of their supply lines being hit, the Brotherhood would begin tightening their security which meant regular patrols, more guards, or airlifting supplies. That was another liability in their operation: it was isolated and needed supplies, but their supply base wasn't easily accessible.

This is a strange war.

There were no other updates, but he knew it wouldn't be long before they saw changes along those supply routes, and at their production bases. They also needed to be wary of whatever response Maxson would organize. Maybe the Brotherhood couldn't strike at them directly again, but it would be foolish to think they wouldn't come up with something. It was their job to anticipate what that something, or somethings, will be.

Which led him to the last question, and the one Nate was dreading most.

"What happened with the extraction? The Gunners attacked us, but do we know why?"

"Obviously, it was to recover C2-61", Ayo replied, barely reigning in his scoff.

"No shit." Nate stared the smaller man down. "Next time I need to know what color the sky is I'll look outside. How did they know to head there?"

"We have no way of knowing", Li answered, shooting a glance at the SRD leader. "The only thing we were able to determine was they arrived there shortly before our recovery team. They may have had people in the area, found C2-61 by chance…" She trailed off, but Nate knew where she was going.

"Or have some way of tracking us or her."

"Yes." Li nodded.

There was no way of knowing that last one until they performed some tests, but it would certainly complicate things.

"We will need to determine the answer", the ARD leader continued. "It will affect how we deploy forces in the future if our Relay signals are traceable."

"Agreed", Jackson said. "We should be able to test that fairly simply." He looked at Isaiah. "Would you mind helping?" The young man nodded.

"How difficult would it be to provide away parties with some means of activating the Molecular Relay. If we run into a problem like that again, we can't only rely on Coursers to get us back to the Institute."

Ayo did scoff this time. "If it weren't for your reckless use of our units, you wouldn't have been caught in that position, and we wouldn't have lost a Courser."

Reckless? His tactics were reckless?

"If I hadn't sent X6-88 ahead to assist the scout team, C2-61 could have been captured by the Gunners. That reckless deployment made sure we didn't lose an important target to the enemy. We have no clue what the Gunners would have done with her if they'd gotten away. For all we know she could have been sold off to the Brotherhood."

"Before we chase that rabbit", Weller interjected. "I believe Nate is correct. None of us are well qualified to judge his actions considering it is always easier to discuss these things in retrospect. He did not have all the information we do, and we do not have all the information in general. I believe it is certainly possible, given the circumstances, C2-61 may have been captured. The actions Nate took were done to minimize that risk."

The ex-soldier blinked. Weller was usually reasonable enough, if he asked too many tangential questions, but to outright countermand his boss? That didn't seem all that in character for the older scientist.

Jackson nodded. "Yes. A split-second decision had to be made, both once the shooting within the building started, and once Z2-17 was disabled." He met Nate's gaze. "Considering what was at stake, he made the right call, and prioritized getting the highest risk members of the team out of the field first." The dark-skinned man paused, a small smile flashing across his face. "Even if I never want to spend a night out there again."

That drew a few chuckles from around the conference room, including Nate.

"If we want to make any corrections to the operation", the infantryman said, "the best one would probably be to have all people involved better trained, both as individuals and as a unit. Things went south because the Coursers aren't trained for those types of engagements. While I've been in plenty, we haven't been in them together."

Shaun, after remaining silent for the past half hour, cleared his throat. "Are you suggesting we begin training our technicians and scientists to be soldiers?" There was no incredulity in his voice, only a strange sort of curiosity.

"No", Nate responded, shaking his head. "Changing how we train the Coursers would be a start and providing combat training to anyone who will be out in the field."

"And I presume you would like to lead this effort."

It had been a long time since he went through boot. Even while he was out, Nate kept up on PT, even going so far as to say he was proud he'd been able to keep up with Damon on their endless journeys across the Commonwealth. That was entirely different from taking on the role of drill instructor. Especially considering he was also in command of their impromptu generalship. And of course his… extracurricular activities helping escaping Synths.

"I can provide pointers, but I don't need to be part of the training. I'm sure we have plenty of training manuals to pull from, and I can help put the plans together."

"That seems reasonable", Jackson said. "It would make me feel a lot more comfortable if I ever have that misfortune again."

The Institute leader glanced at the other man before meeting Nate's gaze once more. "That is agreeable. Would you concur we should begin as soon as possible then?"

"Yes", the infantryman replied, nodding again. "Brown, pull up whatever reference material we have for PT and basic combat training. We'll need to go over that before we put together a regiment."

"Understood", she responded.

After that, the debrief was clearly drawing to a close. They discussed a few more ancillary subjects, but Nate tuned them out for the most part. He hadn't asked the main question he'd wanted to, he'd worried about. In part because it may have been suspicious, and in part because he didn't know whether he wanted the answer to be 'yes' or 'no'.

Was Sam's memory wiped before the Coursers recovered her?

He couldn't imagine what that would be like, having everything you remember, the person you are just… erased. It was terrifying. If Nate couldn't, who would remember Nora? Or Cook? Or Martin?

Or Damon?

Everything Sam had been, the fiery, proud, and dedicated person he'd met a few days ago was gone. Just- gone.

A few minutes later, the debrief concluded and everyone began dispersing. The ex-soldier wanted to beeline to Li's office, ask her what had happened in more detail, put his mind at ease either way. That could draw suspicion though, and the last thing they need, especially now, is suspicion. Neither Ayo nor Shaun suggested they trusted Nate anymore after this operation, but he couldn't risk endangering that chance, no matter how much he wanted the answer. He'd have to stew on it until morning when it would be more reasonable for him to check in on the progress of their new weapon's program.

So instead the ex-soldier occupied himself with heading to the gym. Yes, he was still exhausted from the day before, but he needed something to help him loosen up.

And he needed some time to think.

X

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Nate's feet pounded on the treadmill in a slow, rhythmic beat. He wished he had some music playing, anything to help his mind get into the same tempo. For as much as he tried to focus, it kept drifting between three things: Damon, Sam, and Shaun.

His thoughts swirling around the SPARTAN were simple: if he had been there the night before, the Gunners wouldn't have mattered. It was just another reminder of how Nate betraying his friend had been one of the worst mistakes of his life. One he would probably never live down.

For Sam, her sacrifice was immense, but it wasn't finished yet. He had to make sure he took advantage of the opening they all thought would be there, if not now then soon. It could provide them with huge opportunities, including one to, maybe, get back in touch with the Railroad. He was sure they wouldn't want anything to do with him, especially Cass and Tommy, but maybe, eventually, he could earn back even a modicum of their trust. Those opportunities would be that much better if what Porter had said was true.

And that brought him to Shaun. It was still impossible to get a read on the situation, on what the Institute leader wanted him for, on what he wanted to do. Nate hadn't been wrong when he said soldiers aren't PR personnel. He may have been the de facto politician between himself and Damon, but considering the armored titan had the social skills of a hand grenade, that wasn't saying much. How could he repair the massive distrust between the people of the Commonwealth and the Institute? Sure, he had some ideas, but things like 'stop kidnapping people' and 'give them food' were things anyone with half a brain could come up with. Long story short, the ex-soldier wasn't convinced that's what Shaun wanted him for.

Even if, more than anything, he wanted to believe it. Porter was good. Really good. Even though Nate was on guard for it, she still managed to dig back into his head and put him in a vulnerable position. It probably wasn't that hard for someone who both had training, and he gave two weeks of, essentially, free reign to poke around in there.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

While all of those things were subjects the ex-soldier wanted to think about, he didn't want to think about them all at once. The most important one in the short term is what to do next with Li and her people. He realized that, as if subconsciously, he'd decided to help them. It was the right thing to do, or so it seemed, and Damon probably would have done it.

But he couldn't help the thought swirling in the back of his head: what if Shaun was right? What if there was something Nate was missing? Some reason he did what he did?

Then he thought maybe he just wants to think there's some justification for the awful things the Institute does. Maybe he wants to think Porter is right, and they want to change how they interact with the Commonwealth.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

And now he's back to square one again.

Nate tapped the controls to slow the treadmill to a fast walk. This wasn't getting him anywhere, and he was almost ten miles in. His breath was coming in ragged heaves now and sweat was pouring from his forehead into his eyes. The distance would have disappointed him if it weren't for the last 24 hours.

What am I supposed to do about this?

The easiest answer would be to continue his current trajectory: help Li, Jackson, Isaiah, and the rest of the people trying to help the Synths. It wasn't the easiest just because it's the one he was already doing, but also because it was the one that felt right, morally.

Too many questions, not enough answers.

After five minutes of walking, the ex-soldier slowed the treadmill to a stop and stepped off. He grabbed a towel he had set on a chair beside it and wiped the sweat from his face.

No one else was in the Gym, which wasn't a surprise. Glancing at his Pipboy on the chair as well, the display read 2257. It was way too late, especially with what happened the day before, and the fact he'd be up around 0500 to get started on the day. He'd promised himself he'd wait until tomorrow to talk with Li about the results of their gamble, but his patience didn't have a long dwell time.

A few minutes of stretching later, Nate left the gym, heading for his room. Despite his best efforts, his mind was still racing, questions angrily crashing from one end to the other with no answers being offered. He felt as though he were being pulled in five different directions and he couldn't figure out which was best. The most infuriating thing about it was his own uncertainty.

How could he not know the best route to take? Things seemed pretty cut and dry: the Brotherhood was bad, but the Institute, the way it is, wasn't much better. So, beat the Brotherhood, and change the Institute for the better, right? It should be simple.

It should be.

Reaching his room, Nate showered and slipped into bed. It was funny how, after having slept in this nice, comfortable, warm bed for a few weeks, he could all of a sudden be reminded about how nice it is to have one after one night out. Hell, he hadn't slept in a bed for almost two months. Goes to show how quickly one can become used to relative luxuries.

The ex-soldier frowned. He just answered his question- or the largest one at least. Laying in a nice bed, safe from all of the horrors that lay above from the wildlife, to Raiders, Gunners, Ghouls, Supermutants, the Brotherhood, and whatever the hell else that wasteland wanted to throw at people… that was luxury. That was something most of those people probably never experienced before. Maybe the Institute can't get rid of all of the problems up there, but they can damn sure make them better.

Damon, in his own way, had wanted to help the people of at least Sanctuary. Nate told him he would stay, he would change the Institute, and he would make a difference.

As the ex-soldier's eyes drifted shut and he felt sleep start to take him, a small, contented smile crept across his face.

He would make a goddamn difference.

Sleep held little reprieve for Nate's racing thoughts. The only thing waiting for him once it took hold was more of the same: nightmares, watching horrid experiments being conducted on the word of his son, failing to do anything about it.

A new batch of 'subjects' were being operated on, turned into Supermutants, and Nate stood by, doing nothing. Images of the ones he and Damon had killed flashing through his mind, knowing those could have been innocent people the Institute had experimented on.

The memories and nightmares continued assailing him, with little organization or reason. The only thing he knew was he was horrified.

Then he was trapped out in the Commonwealth again, alone, cast out from the Institute, turned away by everyone else. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to survive?

Why was he supposed to survive? He'd failed everything. Nora was dead, Shaun was a monster, he betrayed the Railroad, and word had gotten back to Sanctuary, he was already banned from Goodneighbor and Diamond city… All he could do as the war between the Brotherhood and Institute was watch as it tore the Commonwealth apart.

Nate couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let everything that's led here, that he's done be in vain. Too many people have been hurt, too many people have died for him to fail. It's something he's thought countless times since watching that church drop on Damon.

But now, after someone else sacrificed themselves at his request, more than ever, he wasn't going to let that happen.

Not a chance in hell.

The ex-soldier's eyes fluttered open, and he rolled over to look at the clock beside his bed. 0415.

Dammit. He groaned. Another hour of sleep. That would have been nice. Waking up this early, especially after the last two days, was… unfortunate. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep though.

Sitting up, he yawned as his eyes drew in the darkened bedroom. Fixing things, or at least attempting to, was all that mattered. Those fears, those dreams- they were just things to get in the way. He needed to focus on helping Dr. Li, and along the way figure out how to change the Institute. Considering he'd pranced across a post-apocalyptic wasteland with a supersoldier from another universe, somehow finding his son after 60 years, that seemed like a cakewalk.

Nate flipped the sheets off of him and swung his legs off the bed.

How would he change the Institute? There were a few ways to do it, he supposed. The simplest would be if Porter was telling the truth, if Shaun really did want to begin helping the people of the Commonwealth. That was… dubious at best though.

As he stood, the infantryman felt his body tighten in protest. He may not have been old, but the last few days had been difficult.

The next best option would be to gather as much support on Li's side of this internal struggle. It would be longer, and riskier, but if they could do it, they would both be able to help the Synths and the Commonwealth.

Something Curie told him and Damon after rescuing her came to mind. The Synths alone would be a boon for the Commonwealth. With their programming and knowledge, they could dramatically improve conditions up there. Maybe they could start by finding some way to limit Ayo's ability to track them down? That would allow the Railroad to leave their memories intact-

Nate was getting ahead of himself. The people here had, no doubt, thought about that before. Wasting his time considering things people smarter than him were already working on would be no use. Maybe he could help, maybe not. Right now the best thing he can do is learn.

Well, maybe not right now considering they're probably all still asleep.

He didn't want to bother anyone this early, so instead, the ex-soldier decided this would be a decent enough opportunity to explore some of the upper levels he'd never been to before.

Getting dressed, Nate meandered the largely empty halls until he found a staircase that took him up toward the floors that were, supposedly, additional family housing. After 20 minutes of searching, that appeared to be the case. Level after level of uniform, white-washed corridors with the same indirect LED lighting stacked themselves above the main floors.

Nate would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't at least a little disappointed. It wasn't that he wanted them to hide something else from him, but a dozen levels of apartments wasn't exactly exciting.

After wandering for the better part of an hour, the ex-soldier found himself standing on the uppermost walkway crisscrossing the cavernous open space over the commons. For being underground, it really was an incredible view. The glass tube he and Damon had ridden down in when they first arrived stood in front of him, dominating the center of the expanse. The gaping hole where the SPARTAN had broken through during the Brotherhood assault had been repaired, so the impressive piece was whole once more.

Looking down at the 'ground' level far below, the walkway was high enough to give the ex-soldier a complete view of the various planters, pathways, other bridges, eating area, fountain- the entire hub of the Institute. More people were starting to mill around the commons, but it was still mostly empty. Were they trying to make this feel like an outside space? With the Institute members living underground their entire lives, they could have wanted somewhere they could go to feel… freed. Nate would certainly need it. He couldn't imagine living his life like that.

But considering what was above ground now…

The peace and quiet in his temporary perch was nice. Standing here, at the top of the Institute, Nate felt as though he were somehow separated from it, from everything it had come to represent for him. This place, for all of its issues, was incredible. The technological feats they'd achieved, especially given the circumstances, were a miracle.

And Shaun had been a huge part of that.

A modicum of pride and contentment settled in the back of his calming mind. Yes, this is a complicated situation, and Nate had made almost every mistake he could have to this point. He still had the chance to help though.

Standing so far above the bottom level, the ex-soldier almost felt as though he were above ground, looking down from one of the many towers that now stood in ruins.

The satisfaction didn't abate as he strode from the walkway and back toward the staircase that would lead him to the bottom floor. Nate may not have gotten there the most conventional way, and he would have done plenty of things differently along the way if given another chance, but he was somewhere he could make a difference.

And that's what matters.

X

"How are you feeling?" Madison asked as he entered her office.

Nate shrugged. "Well enough with what happened. It isn't the first time I've slept out there." Might be the hardest though.

"No, I guess not, but that was a… stressful situation."

"Yeah", he said, chuckling, "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

The ARD leader smiled. "I don't doubt it. From you and Jackson's accounts, however, it seems you handled things well. I very much appreciate you getting him back in one piece."

"I'd have never heard the end of it if I hadn't."

She nodded. "True. So you're here to learn what happened with Sam?" The ex-soldier nodded in return. "Her mind was wiped prior to recovery, so that portion of the operation was a success." The way the doctor said 'success' made it sound like the word was constructed of a dangerous substance that must be handled with care. "As for putting you in higher regards with Ayo and your son, I have not heard anything yet."

Figures. Getting the answer to that question was both a relief and sent another pang of guilt shooting through the ex-soldier. Their operation had been 'successful', but that meant Sam lost everything. It wasn't satisfying.

"I understand." He frowned. Jackson hadn't known for sure either way, but Li has been around the leadership a lot more than he has. It's possible she has better insight into whether what Helen had said might be true. "I wanted to ask you something else. Before we left, Dr. Porter told me Shaun intended to begin repairing relations with the Commonwealth once the war with the Brotherhood was over. She said he intends to begin providing assistance to them. Have you heard anything about that?"

Dr. Li blinked slowly, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I haven't, no", she said equally as slowly.

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Yes, it's possible… but I don't know if I put much stock in it." Her eyes were suddenly sharp again, fixing him in their gaze. "Your son is certainly capable of deciding to do something like that, but it would be in contrast to everything the Institute has stood for, and how he has operated for the past 15 years. Are you having second thoughts about this?"

It was Nate's turn to hesitate. Was he having second thoughts about helping them? Helping the Synths? Well… he certainly had the night before, he couldn't lie about that, but it wasn't like he was going to stop. He has no idea what the truth actually is, considering how Shaun and Porter manipulated him before.

"I want to change things. What she told me… I don't know. Yes, I thought about it, but I have no clue if they're lying to me. I can't trust them after what they did the last time I believed what they said." The ex-soldier's jaw clenched and unclenched as he thought. How the hell was he supposed to know what the truth was?

"I'm going to talk with Shaun about it", he said, finally.

"Why?" Li's tone wasn't accusatory, and her face wasn't either, nor was it impassive. If anything the older woman looked intrigued.

"Because if it is true… it would make things easier on us." Easier for me. He smiled. "I think I'm still trying to make excuses for Shaun."

A hint of sympathy softened the doctor's expression. "Nate, your son- he's not a bad person, in fact he's been very good to me. I disagree with many of the decisions he makes, but that isn't just him. The Institute is an entity unto itself, and you have to remember most of the people here, including him and to an extent myself, are beholden to it. I am not trying to justify what has been done in its name, but it has operated this way for a long time. Eventually, those things become a force which perpetuates all on their own."

That made a lot of sense to Nate. Sometimes inanimate things, concepts take on a life of their own. Look what the world did to itself.

"I know… I know. It's just hard, not having been there, seeing what's happened and thinking 'what if I had?" He offered a weak smile. "I missed my son's life. Even if I know that isn't my fault… it's something I can't ever get back."

The ARD director met his gaze with a solemn one of her own. "I never had any children, but I understand. I-" She fell silent, brow furrowed, like she didn't know if she wanted to say what she was thinking."

"It's okay", Nate said, holding up a hand.

"It isn't- well it isn't a secret", she said, chewing on each word. "During my time with the Brotherhood, working on Project Purity, I- someone there was… important to me. But he fell in love with a different woman and they had a son together. James- that was his name, James, he lost heart after she died, and left. The project fell apart after that. I blamed him for a long time. Then one day his son shows up and helps James restart the whole project. I don't think I'd ever seen someone so proud as James was of his son." Madison met his eyes again, this time an old, painful sadness deep within them. "He died to defend Project Purity, to keep it out of the hands of the Enclave. I understand what it means to someone when they care for their child, and when they believe in something."

It took the ex-soldier several seconds to process what Dr. Li had said. It wasn't the first time she discussed Project Purity, nor was it the first time she talked about the cost to finish it. But it was the first time she told him what she lost to finish it.

Saying 'I'm sorry' would have been an empty platitude. She didn't need his pity, she told him what she did because she knew, at least in part, how he felt.

"Thank you."

Madison nodded before gathering herself once again. "I say that because I believe you want to help, want to make things better, in the same way you care for your son. You don't have to choose one or the other, so long as you do the right thing."

The right thing? Nate blinked. "... And in this case the right thing is helping the Synths."

"That is what I believe, yes, but if we want to make lasting changes, it will take more than helping the odd Synth escape into the Commonwealth."

So this is something she's been thinking about for a long time. The ex-soldier chastised himself. Of course she had. She's been here for a decade, and clearly has ambitions to help people. The idea he was the first person to think of changing the Institute for the better was selfish.

"Is that why you agreed with my idea for Sam? Because you think I can do more the closer I am to Shaun?"

The ARD leader nodded again. "And it will give you the opportunity to help your son. I'll admit, that isn't my primary goal for doing this, but if it helps you at least come to terms with what's happened, then I think it's a good idea."

At least she was being open with her intentions, that was more than could be said for his son.

"By the end of this I'm going to owe you more than I'll ever be able to pay back."

"No", Li said with a small smile. "This isn't about payment, it's about making a difference. After all, isn't that what we all want to do in our lives?"

"Yeah…" Nate nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is."

It was good to know someone else was thinking the same way he was. Hell, the ex-soldier didn't doubt most of the people Li had convinced to follow her thought the same way. It was little wonder she made such a good leader.

"So I think we should begin implementing our next move", she continued. "I haven't discussed this with you since we're still working out the details, but we need to re-establish communications with the Railroad. They've gone to ground since the ambush, but there have still been signs of movement." The older woman tapped on her desk. "Besides feeding them new escapes, the most important thing we can do for them is provide information about the Brotherhood, and our engagements with them. Not only do they need to remain clear, but they're quite good at moving unnoticed, and striking hot spots in a pinch."

Striking hot spots in a pinch…? Equipment? Conventional and laser weaponry? Ambush tactics?

"Did they hit that Brotherhood caravan?"

Li shook her head. "No, that was a little too obvious, plus they'll be maintaining a low profile for a while now. The last time the Institute found their headquarters, it didn't go well for them."

Damn. The information wouldn't have changed much, but at least they would have known whoever put that ambush together wasn't likely to attack them too. "Okay, so how do you suppose we go about this?"

"Come with me", she said, standing, "there are a few other people who have already been putting together a plan. Jackson's impromptu inclusion in your last mission gave them an idea, and I believe we already have a few volunteers."

Volunteers? To go through field exercises?

Nate followed the ARD leader from her office and back through the now bustling development wing to the firing range. Even as they approached, the ex-soldier could hear the booming reports of conventional weapons' fire through the insulated walls ahead. That was a promising development, both because it meant their new guns were working, and people were familiarizing themselves with them.

As they neared the door, Li pressed a button beside it, and a loud buzzer sounded on the other side. A few moments later, the gunfire trickled to a halt and, once it stopped completely, she keyed the door open.

Inside were three techs setting the guns they'd been shooting down in the stalls. Beside each of them was a rack of a dozen more rifles. They were starting to produce these things quickly. That was promising.

Li waved him forward. "Nate, meet Jessica, Grant, and Kurt."

All three were young and fit, wearing the same white and blue coveralls as the rest of the ARD staff. With the same shade of brown hair, about the same heights, and faces that were slightly rounded, the three of them could have been siblings.

Are they Synths?

"They have volunteered to join you as field operatives", the division leader continued.

"It's good to meet you, Nate", Grant said in a light, clear voice.

The ex-soldier nodded. Enthusiasm was good, but they needed steel to go with it. He found for himself, without Damon to act as a buffer, the Commonwealth was a terrifying place.

"Likewise." The ex-soldier offered a friendly smile. It was the least he could do considering he was about to start grilling them.

"So why do you want to go out in the field?"

"First and foremost, it's to help", Jessica answered.

"That's always a good start, but if you need any evidence about how dangerous it can be up there, just ask Jackson."

Jessica nodded. "We all understand that, and we know the experience we have so far wouldn't prepare us for it." She looked at the other two. "But we're willing to try anyway. It's the least we can do to help the Synths here and the people of the Commonwealth." The young woman paused again, frowning. "And considering what Sam gave up, we need to make sure you have the best opportunity possible to succeed. That means more experienced people up there with you to watch your back. We all look up to her. Sam is the one who brought me in."

Another wave of emotion washed over Nate. It wasn't all guilt though. In fact, very little of it was. The more he learned about these people, about this effort, the more he felt as though he belonged. Nate could see the same determination in Jessica's voice in the eyes of the other two scientists. That would help, but knowing they had realistic ideas of what they were signing up for was a relief.

"I'm glad to hear it." They needed to plan some easier operations to ease all of them into working in the field, including Nate. He turned to Li. "Do we have any training resources down here?"

She nodded. "We have BMI simulations we can put them through. They aren't perfect…" she trailed off, glancing at Kurt who adopted a sheepish smile. "They aren't perfect, but we can at least give them some exposure so they aren't going in completely blind."

"Is there a reason we don't use them already?"

The technician cleared his throat. "They're mostly experimental at this point, still in the testing phase. We've made a lot of progress on them though, so they're safe. At least."

That sounds promising.

"Okay, then we have a good place to start. I plan to help Brown implement a training regiment. We won't have much time, so I intend to start actual work tomorrow." He smiled. It wasn't friendly. "I hope you're ready."

After another minute or so speaking with the three scientists, Li led Nate back out of the shooting range and allowed them to resume their testing.

"They're good", she said as they strode through the well-lit halls. "I know operating under pressure here isn't the same as being shot at, but if any of our people can be successful up there, it's them."

Madison had seen her fair share of hardship and combat. Maybe it hadn't been in the Commonwealth, but she'd been through a war of her own with this 'Enclave'. If she thought so, he'd trust her judgment.

"I like them. It's reassuring to hear they know they aren't prepared for what they're going to find up there."

Li nodded. "Everyone has been reading the reports, especially the latest one on Sam's recovery." She stopped when they reached her office. "I have a few things to sort out, but I will be at this morning's meeting. As you said, we will have to operate on a very short timetable to get them ready to go out into the Commonwealth. We need to impress that upon Ayo and Father."

"Yep", the ex-soldier nodded in return. "And I think we need to emphasize the establishment of those safe houses too. Gives us a little reprieve so maybe we don't sleep in a bombed-out ghost of one again."

A small smile crept across the older woman's face. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I left it back in that house."

X

By the time the morning planning meeting rolled around, Nate was downright eager to begin discussing their next move. As the dozen or so people who had become involved with these filed into the conference room, the ex-soldier was already there, standing over the map they'd established for their proposed safehouses. While Li was 100% right about expediting training, it would be useless without static FOBs, even if they were little more than places to rest and resupply.

"Have we had any new developments from our observation teams", the infantryman asked to get the ball rolling.

Isaiah, who had become their de facto intel officer, shook his head. "Nothing substantial yet. One of the teams to the north station at…" he glanced at his notes "the Higby farm reported increased guard traffic, and a few more Vertibird flights in the area, but that's all."

"Considering their responses so far", Weller said, "I don't think we should expect them to move too quickly. The Brotherhood has been handling this situation with extreme caution. If they were to make any dramatic moves this quickly, that would be a surprise."

"Agreed", Brown interjected. "Based on the few glimpses we've gotten into the airport, we believe they have significant resources stored in reserve, so they most likely will not be desperate yet. They'll prioritize their units' safety. We expect them to take things slow, and reduce their footprint temporarily, before spreading back out with more secure transportation."

"Has there been any more information on whoever ambushed the I-73 caravan?"

Again, Isaiah shook his head. "A reconnaissance team scouted the area again yesterday night, but nothing came up. I don't think we'll get any more clues from that attack site."

That made sense. The ambush had been two days ago now, and any evidence they hadn't found would most likely be useless now.

"Okay then, the next order of business is to discuss our development of safety and resupply locations." Nate gestured at the map. "It's going to be important these are supplied and secure before we have a significant above-ground presence."

Weller nodded. "We currently have 15 safehouses established, with at least two Synths posted to each." He walked forward and indicated the locations. Most were centered on the suburbs around Boston, which was a good first step. There were a lot of potential candidates, and the area was relatively uncontested. Add that in with the large area, it was unlikely those safe houses would be found let alone raided. Even if they were discovered, the area was sparsely populated, so it wouldn't be too surprising to see someone there.

"We've slowed the deployment down because of the focus on bolstering our fighting forces", the older, balding scientist continued.

"And what about the supply caches?"

"Those are well accounted for. 27 have been hidden so far, with another 12 planned before the end of next week. I have been working with Thomas and Isaiah to put together copies of their locations to be provided to our field teams."

Nate suppressed a smile. Having backup infrastructure to allow anyone up in the Commonwealth to operate independently of the Institute hadn't been the ex-soldier's idea, but he appreciated its utility nonetheless. It would take immense pressure off of the Molecular Relay, and give them more options for when shit hits the fan.

"We need those lists ready by the beginning of next week. I intend to begin above-ground exercises as soon as possible."

A thoughtful frown drifted across Weller's face, but he nodded. "Two days should be enough time."

"Good." Now to the part Nate really wanted to get to. "Brown, what information have you compiled for our training regiment?"

"Ah", the older woman said, a wry smile on her face. "We did not have significant stores of training documentation, but I have been able to piece together basic training routines the US Marine Corps used prior to the War. For the more complicated information, I believe you are our best resource."

The infantryman expected as much. "That's fine. We can go through it today. Putting a crash course together shouldn't be a problem."

"Agreed", Brown said.

"We, apparently, have several volunteers already, and I believe I heard the ARD is working on some sort of simulator." He glanced at Dr. Li. "So we should be able to start training soon. It will also help us figure out what kind of squad dynamics we will want to implement in the regular and Courser forces."

Despite himself, Nate was excited. He'd never been a DI, but he'd been tortured enough by them, the thought of inflicting that pain on someone else was… amusing. He wasn't above a little schadenfreude. On top of that, this is something he's good at. Almost 20 years' experience will do that.

The ex-soldier leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Once we get this sorted out, and field teams trained, we'll get a lot more flexibility, and this fight really gets started."

Notes:

So we have a bit of clarity, or at least Nate does. This is something I had to think hard about, both how I wanted to handle it and how to write it. Obviously, there are things at play here that Nate... struggles with. Considering the circumstances, I think his decision wasn't entirely based in a healthy consideration of the situation, but we'll see where it leads to! I'll see everyone next week!

Chapter 37: A Plan Unfolding

Notes:

Hello all and welcome to the wonderful world of insanity where all your dreams come true… Mostly in ways you don't expect or want. We've got a little time skip! There are reasons for that (which will become apparent later), but things are gonna get interesting here, and I think there are a few things some of you will probably pick up on about future events. But I'm not giving anything away. Alright, this author's note's been long enough so please leave a comment if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

One. Two. Three. Four…

Sweat dripped from Nate's forehead onto the worn wooden floor of the house.

Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen…

He didn't think he'd have to push himself as hard as he was. His brown hair clung to his head like a helmet, his breath was coming out in labored gasps, and he struggled against his shaking arms to finish the push-up…

Sixteen.

With that last one, the ex-soldier collapsed onto the floor, heaving for air.

"Is that all? You were bragging sooo much about how many you could do."

The voice was distant like someone was talking to him through a long tunnel. Jess was probably still sitting at the dining room's small table, that stupid, wildly amused smirk on her face.

Ass.

"That…" the ex-soldier said between gasps. "Was set 14."

"So?" she shot back, voice a little clearer now. "I'd bet you your rations for tomorrow Jackson can do more."

Nate rolled onto his side, pushing an arm beneath him before struggling into a seated position. He glowered at the young, vibrant woman.

"He isn't here to prove it." The ex-soldier stopped to take a few more heavy breaths. "And I'd like to see you do better."

With a wave of her hand, the ARD scientist dismissed the challenge. "There are other things I'm better at."

"Not a high bar, Conklin."

Jess's face soured at the stab. It was Nate's turn to smirk.

"Very funny."

"I appreciate it."

"Mhmm." The woman stood from the table and walked through the recently repaired doorway into the kitchen. A moment later, Grant walked out with Brice, one of the safehouse's permanent residents. They were each carrying two plates of food. It wasn't anything extravagant, just some Institute-packed MREs, but at least those were better than the ones he was used to from his many meals in the army.

"Now that that's over", the other ARD technician said, "you think you'll be able to keep this down?"

Nate shrugged before climbing to unsteady feet. "Probably." He didn't have much choice; the ex-soldier needed to get some food in him before they left. It had been long enough since their transit, they shouldn't be at risk of being tracked, so the team needed to meet up with the Synth force and move. Crossing most parts of the city at night, while relatively safe, was slow going and stressful. They needed as much time as they could get.

A few seconds after the two men came out, Jess exited with Tyler, the safehouse's other permanent resident.

"I'm ready to be out of here", she said, the irritation in her voice was only half-mocking. Three days cooped up in the, admittedly large, townhouse they'd converted into one of their resupply points and safehouses, was more than enough for the ex-soldier too.

"It's good practice", Grant responded. "Patience and all."

"Sure." She smiled mischievously. "You're just afraid."

The other man shrugged. "Maybe nervous."

Nate knew both of their back and forth was a defense mechanism. They were both worried. Sure they'd spent the last few weeks training, both in real life and in Kurt's simulations, but this was only the third time either of them had been out of the Institute. It would be the first either went along on a mission.

If the ex-soldier was being honest with himself, he was nervous too. Attacking a small depot was a major step for them. To this point, most of their attacks had been on patrol routes, caravans, and the occasional outpost. Outside of their opening salvo on Cambridge though, this would be by far their largest.

It's an operation that had been in the works for a little while now, and most of the smaller raids they'd performed over the past week were in preparation for this. Their recon teams reported back the warehouse they were striking was probably some form of staging ground. If Nate had to guess, it wasn't for anything in particular since it was at the edges of the downtown area. If anything, the warehouse was probably a storage hub for any supplies that didn't go straight to the airport or Cambridge.

Then there was always the possibility it was a trap, but they'd already planned for that. The week before their transit, the three of them had been drilling in simulations with a Synth fighting force for various scenarios. Nothing was ever perfect, but they were well prepared.

"I do have one question", Jess asked as the five of them began eating. "Why did you decide to come with us on this?"

Nate shrugged as he chewed through something that tasted suspiciously like orange chicken. "I think everyone in the leadership team knows enough to run things without me. Besides, I've always been a ground pounder, I don't like sitting around doing nothing. Someone has to make sure you two don't get killed on your first deployment."

"Oh, so you do care."

"I don't want the time I spent training you to go up in smoke in the first gunfight."

"So you sort of care."

The ex-soldier smiled.

If he was being honest, it wasn't just to keep them safe, the Coursers with their improved squad tactics and their Synth force was perfectly capable of that. No, since recovering Sam, their plan worked; Ayo and Shaun began discussing more… sensitive matters regarding the escaped Synths. They'd ask him to help figure out who was behind it. Without much information, the two of them were stumbling around in the dark. Li and her people apparently did a phenomenal job covering their tracks. His son's hubris, the thought that he was the smartest person in the room at any time, certainly helped.

"You're not afraid they're going to screw something up with you out here?" Grant asked.

"Not yet. There are enough people in there smarter than me, I don't need to hold their hands every step of the way. My experience is more… conventional. Like I said: I'm a grunt."

As he finished, the two of them fell silent, eyes glued to the food on their plates. It was… an uncomfortable quiet, punctuated by deep, controlled breathing, slow methodical chewing, and not much else.

"Of course, I want to get back alive. I don't want to leave everything up to them."

Slowly, his two teammates met his gaze, their nervousness on full display.

"I'm scared too."

A sickly smile crossed Jess's face. "You don't look it."

"I was in the military, Jess. We're professional bullshitters." He frowned. "For a long time I thought I wasn't, you learn to put it away after a while. Now though…" The ex-soldier trailed off, thinking about his last engagement with Jackson. "When you lose that, you lose it, and you have to deal with your fears head-on. Focus on what you've learned, pay attention to the basics, keep your teammates safe, and everything else will work itself out."

"Right…" Grant said, voice uncertain.

"Hey, as bad as this sounds, we all knew what we signed up for with this. If everything working itself out involves one of us not coming back, we better make damn sure it counts for something. People are relying on us, in more ways than one." Nate loaded his gaze with a little extra intensity as he exchanged glances with each of them.

Jess and Grant both nodded. They still looked scared though. Rousing speeches had never been his strong suit.

Checking his Pipboy, Nate finished eating and stood. "Let's get moving. We rendezvous with Z4-08 and his fireteam in 30, and need to be at the target in 2 hours."

"Understood", the two replied in unison and followed suit.

After taking their dishes to the kitchen, the three of them grabbed their gear, bid goodbye to their hosts, and slipped out into the night. Jess and Grant each had one of the improved laser weapons the ARD had been developing for the better part of a month now. Apparently, they were able to penetrate almost half an inch of steel plating without burning themselves out after thirty shots. It wasn't perfect, and would still be ineffective against T60, but that's what the Coursers and their gauss rifles are for.

For his part, Nate still carried his combat rifle. The weapon was familiar and reliable. With the hand-loaded cartridges and steel core armor-piercing rounds, it was almost as good as the improved laser weapons. It should be enough to deal with anyone in traditional armor.

As they skirted through the suburbs toward their rendezvous, the three of them moved with the mechanical precision of a team that had drilled on this for hours. It was almost irritating for Nate. His two teammates were talented enough, he'd learned that through their training, but they were still too rigid. That didn't all come down to nerves though; there's a fluidity that only comes with experience and familiarity.

A well-drilled, experienced squad would flow from cover to cover, seamlessly taking up posts to watch for their squadmates. This was more staccato, consciously switching from one task to the other as they went. He couldn't complain though; for newbies, they were quiet and attentive. The ex-soldier wouldn't say he was comfortable with them watching his back, but it was better than he expected.

Five minutes before they were supposed to meet with their Synth force, the three of them arrived at the rendezvous. It was a large grocery store set near the edge of the suburbs.

This was another source of irritation for the infantryman: they had an unimaginably powerful tool for infiltration, yet it had been rendered almost useless. After several… unfortunate losses the week before. The last three raid parties they'd sent out had all been attacked by patrolling Vertibirds once they reached their targets. Toren, one of the ARD technicians working on the Molecular Relay, discovered the transit signal was traceable. That meant they had to be more creative with their deployments.

To that end, they decided to make more irregular teleports, randomizing the location and time, to an extent. That mostly negated the Brotherhood's ability to use those signals to predict their moves, but it also meant they had to do things like this, which was not only time-consuming but dangerous. Especially with the Supermutants around.

Lucky for them, they didn't encounter any of the big green bastards and, exactly as Nate's Pipboy displayed 2230, the Synths showed up.

Their task force consisted of three Coursers, all armed with gauss rifles, and 15 regular Synth fighters. Most of them had the improved laser rifles, but two were carrying MK-18c's, the same high caliber conventional rifles Damon had used, fresh from the ARD's new production line. Those were also running high-velocity armor-piercing rounds. Nate knew from experience those would punch holes in most things short of a suit of power armor.

Unless you were good enough to hit them in the eyes.

Wordlessly, the platoon strength group set off toward their target, Coursers fading into the night with their active camouflage to scout ahead. The rest of them followed the path they'd settled on, taking them on a slightly circular path through the suburbs. It was meant to avoid the worst of the city's potential hotspots, with scattered residents, Gunners, Supermutants, and Raiders all posing a risk. It wasn't so much they were afraid of getting overwhelmed, but if a large-scale firefight broke out and drew the Brotherhood's attention, this op was bust.

Spreading out to avoid being caught in an ambush, Nate, Jess, and Grant stayed near the middle of the group. Five of the Synths ahead and behind them each, and the last five 100 feet to the back to act as rear guards. The Synths operated with even more of that mechanical precision the ex-soldier found so… disconcerting. It wasn't that they were trained to do it like that, they were programmed, which was still an odd concept to him.

Even so, the burned-out, crumbling suburbs whisked by them at an impressive pace as they cleared intersections, climbed the occasional pile of rubble, and cut through a building every so often. All in all, Nate was happy with the performance so far, but this was the easy part; they still had the fighting to do.

With a half-hour to go, as they turned west to start the last leg of their journey, the infantryman felt his heart begin to beat harder. It had been several weeks since his last fight during the mission to recover Sam, and even though he performed well during the impromptu ambush, he was still on edge.

What if Jess and Grant weren't prepared for this? What if he froze up, or had an episode like he did with the Supermutants? What if the Brotherhood forces had been misreported? What if the plan they put together was rushed?

Those and a hundred other thoughts careened through Nate's head.

Now is not the time to have these doubts. He ducked under a collapsed telephone pole and followed Grant past the remains of a house. The time for that was during planning. Right now, I need to execute this plan to the best of my ability. Improvising on the fly when things go wrong is what I spent my entire adult life doing. I need to trust myself and these Synths.

That was easier said than done.

25 minutes later, they found themselves hiding a few hundred feet from their target. They were unable to get any closer because the perimeter of their quarry was fortified and well-lit. The warehouse was in the center of a large open lot with the same prefab walls and outposts assembled around it. Floodlights were arranged with overlapping coverage, and at least a dozen guards were stationed around the walls. Recon teams told them the total contingent was around 30.

The warehouse itself was smaller but relatively intact, though from the looks of it that was largely due to the Brotherhood's repair job. It was about 100 feet long and 70 feet wide. Most of the steel and concrete walls were intact if a bit browned and rusted, but the roof had seen better days. Dozens of hastily repaired holes were obvious, but it wasn't like they had airpower to blow the roof in.

Nate and his fireteam were taking cover near one of the few intact houses in the area. They were on the edge of the suburbs, to the east of their target. The Synths were scattered around the area, finding firing positions that offered both good cover, and mobility. For their part, the Coursers, with their active camouflage, had circled to the west side of the building and were setting up to assault the Brotherhood position from there.

As with their attack on Cambridge, they were going to do a little… cheating. The Brotherhood had the superior force here, and in this type of attack, against a well-established position, that was almost always a recipe for a loss. While some of the Molecular Relay's utility had been compromised by their ability to track the signals, that wouldn't stop them from using it. The ex-soldier had to admit inserting force directly in an enemy position felt a bit cheap, but war is war, and he'd take every advantage he could get.

It isn't like the Brotherhood wasn't doing the same thing.

"Positions established", a quiet, monotonous voice whispered through the earpiece Nate was wearing. As with the personal Relay transmitters he had insisted on, so they could use the Relay at will without needing a Courser nearby, he had the ARD set up comms systems so they could coordinate properly while deployed. Communication is paramount, especially with advanced squad tactics in play.

"Copy", Nate whispered back, eyes glued on the structure. Without any magnifying optics on his rifle, the ex-soldier wouldn't be much help at this distance, but that didn't matter for their plan. His team wasn't supposed to be involved much in the fighting anyway. He checked his Pipboy again. 0027. Three more minutes.

A quick glance to either side confirmed Grant and Jess were both ready… or at least in position. Jess was lying down at the corner of the half-collapsed house, her rifle propped on a large piece of wood in front of her. Grant had shifted across the narrow street to the ex-soldier's left and was crouched beside another pile of rubble that used to be a small apartment. Both had an odd low-light scope mounted on their laser rifles.

Neither looked comfortable; the other man was so tense, even in the dim light filtering through the destroyed structures around them, Nate could see the tendons in his neck standing out. Jess was tight too, elbows locked into position so firm, he thought he could see the muzzle of her rifle shaking.

"Hey", he whispered, "relax."

Both of his teammates glanced at him.

"Deep breaths, loosen up or you won't hit a goddamn thing." The ex-soldier followed his own advice. He could feel his heart trying to beat its way out of his throat. "Remember, two shots and move." He met each of their gazes in turn. "I want to hear you say it."

"Two shots and move", they repeated in unison.

"Good. Why?"

"We'll make ourselves targets", Grant replied, voice still tight.

"Yes, but don't rush. You have time for your two shots. Just like we drilled: slow breathing, relaxed arms, squeeze, don't pull."

Nate felt like he was talking to himself as he sighted down his rifle at the warehouse from his corner of the collapsing building. He'd done well during Sam's recovery, but that wasn't planned, he just reacted. The ex-soldier always found it harder when he had to think about it. Maybe that's why he was such a good soldier: he never thought about what he was doing in combat.

He sure as hell was now.

There was no need for him to give the order. Every Synth knew when to take their first shot. Because of that, the ex-soldier didn't need to check his Pipboy for the time either. Not 20 seconds after he stopped talking, laser fire started rippling from the houses around them in a brilliant red wave, crashing into the Brotherhood defenders.

A second volley followed the first an instant later, and Nate trained his rifle on the guard in the watchtower they'd built on top of the warehouse. It was… probably close to 200 yards from where the infantryman was crouched, well within his rifle's range. Without a scope though, his target, who appeared to be frantically scanning for the source of the gunfire, was smaller than the front post on his gun.

Slow, deep breath. Steady… His finger wrapped itself around the trigger, taking up the slack until he reached the all too familiar wall.

Breathe out.

BANG!

Nate's rifle barked, pushing itself back into his shoulder as it sent the bullet downrange. The ex-soldier had just enough time to get back on target before the man dropped from sight. He didn't know if it was his imagination, but he thought he saw a spray of blood, a black shadow against the floodlighting.

Shifting his aim, the infantryman fired again, this time at one of the Brotherhood soldiers standing guard on their prefab ramparts. This shot sailed, but there was no time to berate himself.

"Moving", he said, just loud enough for his team to hear him over the cascade of laser reports.

10 seconds later, he was in a new position, looking through what was left of a crumbling house's walls. Grant and Jess were both shifting too, slipping behind him to find new cover. Nate almost smiled as he aimed at the warehouse again.

It was difficult to tell at this point, but it seemed as though the response to this assault was a little different from the Cambridge one. There was no way to know how many they'd killed, but the few guards he saw still up on their posts were pulling back.

Why? That made no sense. If they didn't have people posted in those watchtowers, they'd give the Synths free reign to approach their position uncontested. In this kind of fight, the best defense the Brotherhood has is the massive empty lot around the warehouse. They knew that though… they'd demonstrated as much in Cambridge.

Unless they have an alternate defense.

Okay… so they needed to find that before advancing, but still why would-

The ex-soldier's left hand flew to the radio.

"Relay control, do not send the second group. I repeat, do not send the second group. The guard is anticipating the attack."

Nothing came back through his earpiece, as Nate returned his attention to the fight. That was fine, as long as he didn't see the telltale flash of Relay transits in the perimeter, they were fine. Now they had a new problem though: they didn't have the forces necessary to take the warehouse without support. On top of that, they had to worry about whatever secondary countermeasures the Brotherhood had in place.

"Transit has been canceled", the earpiece squawked, "what is the problem?"

"They pulled their forces back into the perimeter; the guard probably anticipated us using that tactic again. Send half of them to the west end of the compound, far enough away from the Coursers to keep them hidden. Keep the other half in reserve."

"Understood", came the response, and his comms fell silent.

It wasn't until he looked back at the looming structure ahead of them that Nate realized the shooting had stopped and an eerie quiet draped itself precariously over the night.

That's when Nate heard the dull thrum of Vertibirds approaching from the northwest. They'd dispatched them from Cambridge for air support.

Before the ex-soldier had a chance to shout any commands, both of his teammates, as well as the Synths around him scrambled for cover. Most of the structures around them wouldn't stop the .50 cal nose gun or the smaller 7.62 door guns, but that wasn't too important. What was important was visual cover.

As Nate crammed himself against the exposed foundation of a mostly collapsed house, the three aircraft soared in from the direction of Cambridge. As soon as they were in sight, they opened fire on the densely packed trees the Coursers were hiding in. That was all the infantryman had a chance to see before he pressed himself to the ground.

An instant later, gunfire from the new air support, and the guard in the warehouse, began chewing through what was left of the suburban neighborhood they were hiding in. He counted off the seconds as the roaring of the Vertibirds grew louder, concussion from the rotors pounding the air.

Four seconds after the barrage started, the three VTOLs screamed overhead.

That was their signal.

A team of three Synths had been busy during the barrage setting up their one gatling laser. Now, it was aimed skyward at the receding shapes as they began banking for another pass.

A blinding spray of high-energy lasers lanced from the rotating muzzles and washed over the front-most Vertibird. The Synths had been specifically trained for this task, and the tidal wave of high energy death slammed into the side of the cockpit as it came about. The ex-soldier would have been more impressed if lasers weren't so damned easy to shoot.

The Vertibird tried to pull out of the maneuver, but as Nate heard its engines strain and rotors begin beating harder, something in the front of the aircraft gave way to the onslaught. It shuddered and, while it was too far away to tell for sure, he could have sworn its canopy had been melted away, like a blowtorch against plastic. There was no way the pilots weren't hit if that was the state of the cockpit.

Sure enough, the craft nosed over and dropped like a rock, slamming into the suburbs a few hundred yards away.

Nate didn't wait to see the aftermath of the impact. The other two were still coming, and they'd have better targets now, especially their heavy artillery. When he glanced to his right, he saw the team of Synths sprinting away from their position, making for a house that would provide them at least a modicum of protection from the approaching defenders.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the ex-soldier registered dull flashes illuminating the buildings ahead of them. What they were didn't matter though, what mattered was keeping that heavy weapons team in the fight.

"Covering-" he began, but as he raised his rifle and sighted on the closest bird, more laser fire erupted from his left. His rifle barked as well and, before he got the second round off, most of the Synths were shooting as well.

Probably worried they had another gatling laser to contend with, that VTOL peeled off its assault as small arms fire peppered its fuselage. The last one was still coming, flying low and fast over the destroyed houses and keeping its engine pods rotated forward. The angle of attack only gave them a split second on target, but it made it almost impossible to hit with the weapons available. It bore down on the team-

Or at least where the team had been.

Its chin gun opened up in a roar that was even louder than the rotors, but all it did was mulch the already ruined house the Synths had been in. They had night vision optics, Nate used them in the T60 he'd been in while he and Damon slogged through the Glowing Sea. Had they not seen the fireteam move? Or did they just assume they wouldn't?

Whatever the case, Nate breathed a sigh of relief. They had another shot at those birds if they were brave enough to come around for a second pass.

A brilliant bolt of red slammed into the other concrete foundation the ex-soldier was using as cover a half dozen feet from his head.

Right… There's still a fight going on in the warehouse.

As his attention switched back to the compound, the ex-soldier realized laser fire wasn't just coming from it, the blue spears of Institute energy weapons were pouring from the west side. The second team must have been engaged, the Coursers only had their gauss rifles.

Good. Nate was impressed with their Synth fighting force. Not only were they fast learners, but they worked extremely well under far from ideal circumstances. They knew they had to keep the pressure on the guard, keep them from rallying with their air support diverting the attackers' gunfire.

This wasn't necessarily unexpected, but it was one of the scenarios the ex-soldier most wanted to avoid. They had to take the warehouse quickly. If reinforcements showed up from Cambridge before that happened, this mission would be a bust.

He keyed his mike again. "AA team, are you in position for a second pass?"

"Affirmative", came the uncannily robotic response.

"Everyone else, return fire on the warehouse. Relay control, insert reserve force in", he scanned the night sky for the remaining two Vertibirds. With their black painted bodies and the deep black-

There. They were about a mile out, on a return run over the dead forests to strafe the assault force on the western side of the warehouse.

"30 seconds."

"Understood. 30 seconds."

The ex-soldier brought his rifle up and began taking shots at enemy positions within the perimeter. It wasn't to land any hits, not with how careful the defenders were to maintain good cover discipline. They needed to be occupied, they needed to think the primary threat was coming from the outside. The Brotherhood were aware of their little ace in the hole, but they might have thought it wasn't in play. He needed to make sure they thought it wasn't.

Fire twice, move. Fire twice, move. Fire twice, reload and move.

As he slid into a new position inside what had probably been a kitchen at some point, one house away from Jess and Grant, the high caliber autocannons on the Vertibirds began cutting through the largely leafless, sickly-looking trees. This was probably the last chance they'd get, they needed to make it count.

15 seconds.

No more than a heartbeat later, the two aircraft pulled out of their strafe and banked toward Nate's position. In unison, his forces switched to firing at the oncoming VTOLs. The right one was riddled with small arms fire, but Nate knew from experience, those hulls were heavily armored. Nothing they had would dig through it.

Besides the gatling laser.

A split second after the main force opened up, the heavy weapon lit up the night with its barrage of red beams. They screamed through the air, cutting straight in front of the left Vertibird and allowing the craft to plow into them. The thing wavered as it absorbed the cascade of lances, but the pilot managed to pivot his craft as something detonated on the left winglet and it began wobbling. Its chin gun continued firing and the ex-soldier watched as the house the AA team was in turned to powder.

There was a pang of sorrow that shot through his chest, but he, and they, knew that would probably happen. They'd done their jobs, and they'd done them well.

That line didn't have the same ring to it as it had when he was in.

Nate did his best to push his feelings out of the way and marvel at the last of their handiwork. The aircraft's winglet shuddered again and as it passed over the now destroyed house, the structure gave way. Unable to take the strain of the rotors pulling up against the massive body, it folded over on itself, and the craft plunged into the suburban sprawl.

Now they only had one trick left for that last VTOL.

He hoped the Coursers were as good as Ayo seems to think.

Turning once again to begin firing on the warehouse, blinding light flashed behind the walls, closely followed by detonations. The ex-soldier couldn't see what was happening within them, but suddenly the shooting stopped.

Another round of flashes seared the night with their brilliance-

And the shooting started again in earnest.

Most of it was blue lasers, not red.

A small smile worked its way onto the infantryman's face as he watched. Their gamble worked, and the smaller insertion force seemed to be having the desired effect. He glanced over his shoulder, through the mostly collapsed roof of the house he was in, searching for the last VTOL.

It was impossible to find, but he could certainly hear its powerful rotors pounding at the air. It would be an incredible shot to take that out with a gauss rifle.

The concussion grew louder and louder as the Vertibird approached for another run. There weren't many places left for them to hide. It had to be now, or they'd be in a lot of trouble. The insertion force would only keep the guard busy for so long, and if they weren't across the lot before-

Suddenly, the whining of turbine engines raised in pitch as they spun faster, their rotors beating frantically at the air. Nate threw himself to the ground, expecting the roar of the autocannon to begin peppering the ground around him

But it didn't. Instead, the aircraft kept growing louder. And louder. No gunfire but-

The destroyed house shook as the Vertibird passed what couldn't have been more than a dozen feet over where its roof should have been.

That was too low, even if this was the same one that took the low pass on the first strafing run. There's no way-

BOOOOOOOOM.

A shockwave slammed into the house, sending rotting wood and what was left of appliances flying through the air. The ex-soldier covered his head as what was left of the roof crashed to the already crumbling floor around him. His ears were ringing so loud he couldn't hear himself think, and the concussion drove the air from his lungs.

Even in the scrambled mess that a moment ago had been his mind, Nate found the ability to, somehow, be amazed. They'd actually shot down the damn Vertibird.

Get moving. NOW.

The ex-soldier forced himself up through the confusing melody of ringing ears and aching limbs, gasping for breath as he struggled to his feet. Ahead of him, the Vertibird was a smoldering wreck. It had crashed a few dozen yards from the house he was in and tumbled across the lot, leaving a deep cratered furrow in the already destroyed concrete. The prefab fortifications hadn't been enough to stop its momentum, and there was a gaping hole in the near side.

Eventually, the VTOL came to a rest after crashing into the side of the warehouse, bringing half of the eastern wall down with it.

As Nate took a step toward the nearest hole in the wall large enough to admit him, the infantryman's left leg threatened to buckle. That didn't work for him. They had a limited window to capture the depot, they needed to go right now.

The ex-soldier keyed his radio while limping out of the house. "First teams, move on the target." Even Nate could barely understand his voice, as hoarse and raspy as it was.

Apparently, he didn't need to give the order again, because as he exited the house, he saw a half dozen Synths hurrying across the cratered lot. The team that was supposed to insert into the perimeter would be doing the same from the opposite side.

Stumbling into the side of a collapsed house, Nate perched his rifle on a chunk of… something doing everything he could to focus. Everything was hazy as he squinted through his sights. The Synths were in white, the Brotherhood… well they weren't in white. Shoot anything that isn't white.

They really needed to change that.

"Grant, Jess", Nate croaked into his mic, "status."

"We're good", Grant replied, his voice sounding as bad as the ex-soldier felt.

"Cover the advance."

"Got it."

A few seconds later, the Synths reached the fortifications and slipped past the massive hole the VTOL had left.

Somehow, Nate had the presence of mind to check the time. The forces inside had two minutes to secure the warehouse before the rest of them moved in, leaving the Coursers on the western flank to act as an early warning, and stall reinforcements.

The first 20 seconds ticked by with painful slowness. No shooting, no explosions- nothing. Nate knew there would be a delay, but he was acutely aware of their extremely slim margin.

Then, as his nerves were about to fry themselves, the first blue lances of energy arced from within the walls. Not long after, more flashed joined in, followed by the red lasers of the Brotherhood.

After that, the fighting went quick. They didn't need two minutes; less than 45 seconds later, the shooting trickled to a halt and one of the eerily monotonous voices of the Synth fighters came over his earpiece. "Interior secure."

"Copy", the ex-soldier replied. "Second teams move in."

With that, Nate stood and followed the initial forces out of the relative safety of the demolished houses. The lot was larger than it looked. Most of it was clear, aside from the massive channel the crashing Vertibird left and the occasional pile of rubble, but it still took the better part of 20 seconds to cross. 20 seconds the infantryman's head was screaming at him he was about to be shot.

But he didn't.

They reached the perimeter without incident and, once inside, the ex-soldier took in the carnage that had resulted from the fighting. Bodies, and parts of bodies, were littering the area surrounding the warehouse. Most were Brotherhood, but there had to have been at least a dozen Synths laying prone, holes burned through their armor. That was something odd Nate would need to get used to: conventional firearms were rarely a clean way of killing someone. Laser weapons burned. It was a lot tidier and probably resulted in fewer severe injuries.

That wasn't the war he remembered. Regular war- that was as much about wounding your enemy as it was killing them. That wasn't something he was proud of, looking back, but it's what you did. A casket isn't expensive, healthcare is. Plus, when a mother sees her son come home minus an arm, or leg, it's a pretty stark reminder of what was done to them.

It's a good way to kill a country's will to fight.

Nate banished the memory with a shake of his head, regretting it for a moment as pain flared just behind his eyes. Jess and Grant were standing with him as the rest of the Synths checked the bodies and searched the interior of the warehouse.

Focus on what you're doing.

He didn't need to contact the Coursers, they'd tell him if any Brotherhood reinforcements were on their way.

Turning to a Synth as the white armored fighter approached from the scattering of bodies, he said, "what have you found?"

"This facility is full of food and munitions, as well as what appear to be spare parts for equipment and vehicles", the Synth stopped in front of him. "It is likely these supplies were to be transferred to the airport."

Spare parts. There were some contractors and production facilities to the north, they might have scavenged them from there. Would it be helpful to map their potential equipment repositories? It was impossible to know what the Brotherhood's production capability was, so the fewer sources they had for supplies, the better.

"Collect the food, weapons, and any equipment we can use, rig the rest."

"Understood", the white armored Synth replied with a nod before marching back into the warehouse.

The Brotherhood was settling in for the long haul. They knew this wouldn't be quick and easy; the Institute had made as much clear with their actions over the last month. Nate took a grim pride in that. Sure, Damon had been the one who'd laid the groundwork, but the ex-soldier's own efforts had certainly paid off. This assault was infinitely better than the one they'd conducted on Cambridge. He glanced at the smoldering wreckage of the Vertibird. Losing three of those would hurt, maybe more than the supplies in this warehouse.

He couldn't smile though. Here he was again. Different time- hell almost a different world- doing the same goddamn thing he had for most of his life.

Fight.

It wasn't what he wanted, it wouldn't be what Nora wanted, but it was what he had to do, at least for now. Li needed all of the distractions she could get. They still hadn't come up with a long-term plan, but for now… their mission to reestablish contact with the Railroad was what was important. Nate wanted to be on that mission, he wanted to find Cass and Tommy to- he didn't know what. Apologize? Like that would even come close to making up for what he'd done.

And he'd have to tell them Damon was dead.

That would hurt them, all over again.

No, he was better off here, as much as his heart yearned otherwise. He needed to be as in lockstep with the war effort and with Shaun and Ayo's plans as he could be. He needed to gain their complete trust, and figure out how he could change things.

For now.

At some point, the time to act would come, and his passive involvement in their long-term strategy would take on a much more active role. For all the time he'd spent considering it, Nate still couldn't work out if what Porter had told him was true. He talked with her again, several times, including once with his son, and their stories lined up.

But he couldn't square it. He might have been being overly cautious, overly suspicious, but after what happened, after what he'd learned about them and the Institute, he couldn't trust them.

That was the worst part about it: Shaun, his own son, was leader of the Institute, and not only could he not trust him, but he abhorred what he became. At the same time, it broke his heart to hear about the circumstances that made him what he was.

Ironically enough, the situation was analogous to Damon's with one key distinction: the SPARTAN, under the trauma, anger, and training, found some way to care. Could Shaun do the same? Did Shaun care? How was Nate supposed to know? Shaun was a stranger to him. How was he supposed to find out? Could he change him? What it-

"Nate", he heard Jess's voice from his left, pulling him out of his musings, "how do you think they'll respond to this?"

Violently.

"They can't for now, not until they find a way to strike at the Institute directly. Considering the preparations Li and her team have made with the Molecular Relay, that doesn't seem likely any time soon." The ex-soldier scanned the warehouse. "There are a hundred different ways they can fight us, but I'll be honest, fighting an enemy who can show up wherever they want, with a headquarters you can't hit… that's a losing war." He frowned. "Unless they think of something… extreme."

Nate checked the time on his Pipboy: 0057. They needed to be gone in a few minutes.

"Come on", he said, motioning to the warehouse. "Let's help them get everything ready."

X

Sitting on a crate, glaring at the ground between his feet, Nate struggled with the cocktail of irritation, confusion, and fear swirling around his head.

"You need us to stay topside and help", he said into his mic, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes", Ayo's voice crackled back over his earpiece. "Dr. Li is convinced the Synth is a high-security risk and there's no way to know what state they're in."

There weren't supposed to be any escapes planned, so what the hell happened? This was bad, and on more than one front: not only did this put their informational security in a stranglehold, but the added attention would risk Li's operation. Her team was out on… somewhat legitimate orders, but the last thing they need is scrutiny.

"Give me a minute, Justin. I need to make sure there are no… curious ears around."

There was a short pause. "Of course."

Nate waited a few seconds, giving Jess, who was standing across from him in the warehouse, a knowing glance.

"Go ahead."

"It is the regular signs: unscheduled transit, disabled transponder, no one seems to know anything about it."

"What did the Synth do?" That wasn't just for Ayo's benefit, the ex-soldier really was curious about who they'd be chasing. If a Synth had managed to escape without the help of the smuggling ring, there had to be an explanation.

"B4-27", the SRD leader said. "His designation was 'Andrew' and he worked in the ARD on the weapons program. Before that, he was involved in research and development on our nuclear reactor."

A cold pit formed in Nate's stomach. The reactor? That means- if the Brotherhood gets their hands on that information, it would be a huge risk. The next time they attack, if they get the opportunity, they'll know exactly where to strike. Worse than that, it would be an instant death blow to the Institute. This wasn't just about keeping their activities covered, this was about not losing the war.

"I assume your silence means you understand the gravity of this situation."

Nate grunted. "It's hard not to." He checked the display on his Pipboy. It had been eight minutes now since they'd taken the warehouse, and still no response from the Brotherhood. Chances are they were either taking things slow, consolidating forces before attacking, or they weren't going to risk losing more resources in a recapture effort.

"How long ago did Andrew escape?"

"B4-27", Ayo started, a slight edge on his voice, "escaped two hours ago. We have organized two recovery teams which will deploy within the hour, but your team's assistance would be appreciated." The way the doctor said that sounded like he didn't agree with the statement. If Nate had to guess, Shaun was the one who suggested it.

"Understood. We've been at it for almost 24 hours now, and just finished a battle; I'm going to give Jess and Grant some time to rest. Send the Coursers out, we'll move to rendezvous with them at 0630."

There was another short pause on the other end, Ayo, no doubt thinking of something to argue about.

"I believe it is in our best interest to put as many assets in the field as possible to prevent a catastrophic incident", he said slowly.

"Uh-huh." Of course, he'd want them to keep moving. The man had never been out of the Institute, let alone in a real battle. They're strenuous, you're tight, heart is racing, adrenaline pumping, and your body is operating on overdrive. It's exhausting, especially if you aren't used to it. That was the first fight for his teammates, and while they performed admirably… it was their first fight.

"If you want all assets to be effective, you'll allow them some time to recuperate. If you don't want to fill three more body bags, you'll want them to be alert. We're going to take a few hours to rest, and then we'll join the search." If he was being honest with himself, the ex-soldier needed a break too. "And I was under the impression this operation is still my command. Or are you suggesting Shaun has changed his mind about that?"

Another short pause came across the radio before Nate heard a soft scoff. "I understand."

"I will contact the Coursers once we're on the move", the infantryman said before Ayo could continue. "Please pass on any new intel as you receive it."

With that, Nate stood from the box he had been sitting on and waved Jess and Grant over to him.

"Looks like another Synth escaped." When the two scientists exchanged alarmed glances, he knew they weren't aware of any planned escapes either. "Let's save any questions or speculation for later. Right now, Ayo is redeploying our Courser fireteam to assist in the search. It has been requested we tag along. It's been a long day, so let's move to the nearest safe house, get some rest, and we move out at 0630." He met each of their gazes. "We good?"

The two exchanged another glance, both looking like they had about a thousand questions, but they knew they couldn't ask any of them. Not only were other Synths around, but Nate had no doubt their equipment was bugged. They'd have to stow the speculation for now.

"Yes", Grant said slowly. He tried to hide it, but the exhaustion was thick in his voice. Jess didn't look much better and Nate wasn't far behind. Despite the two months out here with Damon, the ex-soldier still needed some conditioning.

The infantryman hefted his rifle. "Let's get moving, the Synths will finish up here."

It was a short walk back to the perimeter where a half dozen Synths were standing guard. Under their cover, the trio slipped back across the still brightly illuminated lot to the destroyed houses they'd been fighting from only fifteen minutes before. The possibility of Brotherhood forces lying in wait to ambush stragglers wasn't lost on Nate, so the three of them were exceedingly careful proceeding the first mile or so.

He wouldn't admit it to Jess or Grant, and certainly not Ayo, he barely wanted to admit it to himself, but the way his limbs were trembling, and how his eyes darted from one shadow to another as if on their own, Nate knew he still wasn't doing great. His nerves were fried, and no matter how far down he tried to push his fear, it still found a way into every slightly sharp, sloppy motion. It was uncomfortable, feeling like he didn't have control over his emotions. This was the fourth fight he's been in since joining the Institute, and he still had to deal with this afterward. Maybe it wasn't as bad as the first few times, but it was still there, it was still a distraction, and it still affected his performance.

Even as they crept through the burnt-out, weather-worn remains of the suburbs, the ex-soldier could feel his breath come a little faster and a little more desperate than it should have. And he couldn't blame it entirely on Damon's absence, not anymore.

This couldn't continue, he needed to find a way to deal with it. Especially if these types of surface excursions were going to become common.

Their journey to the next closest safe house, this one to the south of the fight, was about an hour and a half. Compared to some of the marches he'd been on before, it was a short hop, but by the time they neared the small, one-story house, which was closer to a shack, Nate's legs felt like rubber. His companions didn't look any better, hell if Grant had a bed to fall into, he'd probably have been out in a matter of seconds.

Once they reached the structure, Nate pulled out a narrow beam, extremely low power transmitter, and hit the one button it had to send a short, pre-programmed code to the safehouse. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps approach and something unlatch. The wooden door swung open to reveal a brown-haired young man with a 10mm pistol in his right hand. The shabbily dressed Synth was illuminated by the dim lighting spilling through the doorway.

"Welcome to safehouse Gamma", he said, voice anything but welcoming, "please come inside." He stepped away from the door.

"Thanks", Nate replied with a yawn, and the three slipped inside. The shack was just as small and uninviting on the inside as it was on the outside. It didn't matter though, it was warm, dry, and had a half dozen beds crammed into it with more than enough food for them to eat.

After the team was inside, their host swung the door shut and latched it once again. Unseen from the exterior, the walls were lined with steel plates. It wasn't an exceedingly defensible position, but it would do in a pinch, especially considering if things really got bad, they could just teleport back to the Institute.

It was a boon Nate still needed to get used to.

"Food and sleep", the ex-soldier said, "we move out in four hours."

His two teammates nodded groggily. The infantryman didn't want to eat, all he wanted to do was strip his gear and get in bed, but they'd need every bit of energy they could get, especially if they were joining a manhunt. To set the example for Jess and Grant, he pulled an MRE from one of the many boxes of food stacked against one wall and tore it open to find several freeze-dried fruits and some form of meat. Whatever it was, it looked a lot better than the MREs he grew accustomed to suffering through in the army.

The other two followed suit and a moment later, they were all sitting on a bed, quietly chewing on their food.

Now they were calm and relatively safe, Nate noticed the tremble in both of their hands. Grant took two tries to get a piece of dried peach into his mouth, and Jess was struggling to break off a piece of jerky. He wasn't kidding when he said they performed well, but going through your first gunfight was challenging. Going through any gunfight is challenging if you stop to think about it.

And they'd be doing a lot of thinking right now.

"Well done. You two deserve more rest than this, and a little time to unpack and unwind, so I'm sorry you're still out here."

Jess shook her head. "If we're needed out here, we're needed." Her voice was steady, mostly, but the slight shake in it tipped her hand.

"There's no need to push yourself beyond what's safe", the ex-soldier chided. "All that does is get you and other people killed. The most important thing for any fighter to know is their limits."

His teammate kept her eyes fixed on her food as she took another slow, trembling bite.

"We get it", Grant said, "but we volunteered for this. We knew-" he smirked "-or at least we accepted things would be difficult. I think we both just need a little more time in the field to acclimate."

The ex-soldier nodded. "True, but don't rush it. As long as you go into an engagement with the understanding you're probably going to make mistakes, you can avoid them. Never assume you won't."

"Well, now you just sound like Dr. Nelson."

"Who?" Nate asked, frowning.

Both of his teammates laughed.

"He's not around anymore", Jess said, "but we were both mentored by him when we were being trained in the ARD." She adopted a mocking tone. "You don't know a damn thing and you'll be lucky if you ever know a quarter as much as I've forgotten."

They laughed again.

"He was an ornery old man. Good teacher though, and he knew his stuff." There was a hint of reverence in her voice. "He helped a lot of people succeed in his years of teaching."

Nate smiled. "A little love-hate relationship then?"

"Mostly hate", Grant said through a snort. "He loved tormenting people. He said it built character, I'd just say he did it because he enjoyed it."

"Yeah", Jess nodded, "that sounds about right. But if you'd worked a little harder, he might have taken it easier on you."

The other man laughed. "We ended up in the same place didn't we, and I had more fun getting here."

"We'll see how long that lasts."

"I'm not sure 'being in the same place' is something to brag about", Nate said as he motioned to the shack around them. "We're in the middle of a shithole, sleeping on beds that were probably collapsed before the bombs fell. It would probably be a lot more comfortable back in the Institute."

"Yeah, but then how would we get all this wonderful worldly experience?" Grant replied.

"Oh that's easy: you don't." Nate's smile broadened. "It isn't worth it."

"You're just saying that because you have it."

The ex-soldier gave an exaggerated thoughtful glance at the ceiling. "I don't know… seems like the Institute is better than this shack."

Both of them snorted.

"Well duh", Jess said, "it's your fault we're out here anyway."

Nate's eyes shot wide as he covered his mouth with his hand in mock horror. "My fault? I thought you just said you volunteered for this."

Grant smiled. "Touche."

As important as the talking was, and as amusing as his two teammates were, a quick glance at his Pipboy told Nate they needed to stop bullshitting and get some shuteye. He had a feeling the next day was going to be a long one.

"Alright. Sleep. We'll be on the move in three and a half hours."

His teammates nodded and crawled into their respective beds.

A really long day.

Slipping into his own bed, the ex-soldier's mind refused to rest. The fighting wasn't over because they'd probably be moving into the city proper tomorrow. That meant they needed to be careful about where they went. He tried to remember the hot spots around the city their recon teams had identified, but there were so many at this point it was impossible to recall. He'd radio in when they woke up and get a summary.

Then there were the ambushes. To this point, they recorded fourteen separate attacks, most of them on the Brotherhood. A few had targeted Supermutants and Raiders as well. So far they hadn't been able to identify the culprit. It was completely possible they were being carried out by the Railroad, considering how good they were at moving covertly, and their vested interest in the safety of the Institute, to an extent. They also made sense because Nate doubted there was anyone else in the area that could have pulled off the attacks with the level of coordination and precision they had.

All of them were small operations, targeting a dozen or so enemies at the most, eliminating them quickly, and leaving almost no evidence they were there. Aside from the bodies and missing supplies that are.

And that was another clue that had the ex-soldier suspecting the group: the Railroad didn't have an infrastructure to produce their own goods and weapons. Hitting the Brotherhood who, besides the Institute, had the best gear in the Commonwealth, made sense. Considering how tidy they were, and the relatively small scale they kept their ambushes, it would be hard for anyone to track them down.

If that was going to continue, he needed to talk to Li about reestablishing contact with them. Their continued operations would be useful, but they could also complicate the Institute's efforts to fight the Brotherhood.

He also needed to talk to her about this. Their mission to take the warehouse was a relatively large undertaking, a distraction they said they needed for a team Jackson was leading to contact the Railroad. If that's the case, and this Synth, Andrew, escaped with their help, they just pivoted the spotlight that had been on the war effort, back on themselves. Why would they do that?

Sleep.

A quiet sigh escaped Nate as he stared up at the pockmarked wooden ceiling. So many things were happening at once, and he was walking such a tight line, any slip up was bad, maybe even fatal. Would Shaun have him killed if he discovered the infantryman was undermining the Institute? He didn't know, but it would ruin his chance to change them. It would ruin his chance to make a difference.

It would ruin his chance to find something more than his own grief.

Nate allowed his tired eyes to drift shut, pushing the thoughts and speculation as far out of mind as he could. Whatever happened because of this, however it affected the warehouse raid, and whether it led to Jackson's team being found out wouldn't matter if the three of them ended up dead. He isn't Damon, but he's the best Jess and Grant have.

As if the exhaustion wasn't enough, the ex-soldier felt his wrist buzzing after what seemed to be a few blinks. He roused himself with a quiet groan and checked his Pipboy.

0615.

Dammit.

He barely felt like he had a wink of sleep. It was an all too familiar sensation, and one of the many things he didn't miss from his days in the army. It was always more difficult to get up after only a few hours than to stay up all night, but he knew that would bite him in the ass. A few hours of sleep would always be the right decision.

Once he got over having to cut the sleep short.

When he sat up to look around the shack interior, it was dimly lit from early morning sunlight streaming through the various cracks and holes in their temporary haven. Jess and Grant were just beginning to shift as they awoke as well, both looking about as bad as Nate felt.

"15 minutes", he said quietly, his voice a barely discernible croak. "Get some food and water, take a leak, and let's get moving."

"Uh-huh", Jess grunted as she pushed herself into a sitting position, bleary eyes making contact with his. It was hard not to empathize with her, the ex-soldier wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. The time he'd spent in the Institute had been a little too luxurious it seemed.

The ex-soldier almost smiled. Who was he kidding? He never liked doing this, even in his early days in the army.

But as had become the norm, he slipped out of bed first, lacing his boots and slipping his MOLLE vest on once again. Damn, it almost felt like he'd only just taken the thing off.

Slinging his rifle, Nate stalked toward the large chest that held spare MREs. He was carrying a few of his own, but it was always better to keep those in case of emergency. In case something catastrophic happened and he was stuck in the Commonwealth.

Their host roused himself from his own bed. "Do you require assistance?"

"No", Nate said after clearing his throat. "We're good." His legs were still a little rubbery, and it felt like someone had run steel wool down his throat. Other than that though, he was surprisingly free of any notable aches and pains. That engagement went surprisingly well.

He had a feeling this search would be a little more difficult.

The old wooden chest's hinges creaked as he swung the top open to reveal orderly stacks of sealed bags with various labels for their contents. Sifting through them, Nate pulled out two fruit packs and one full of various nuts.

"Breaking out the good stuff", Grant said, the exhaustion in his voice defeating his attempt at sarcasm.

Nate nodded. "Who knows how today is gonna go. Might as well enjoy a little breakfast before things get started."

As he stalked back to the ring of beds, he tore the pack of nuts open and dumped a few into his hand. While he dropped half of them into his mouth, he passed the pouch to Grant and sat on the side of his cot.

"Can I ask you something", Jess asked as she took the food from Grant.

"Go ahead."

"Do you think the reason we haven't been ambushed is that we don't stay in the city much?"

So she was thinking the same thing I was. Almost, anyway.

"I don't know. Whoever is attacking the Brotherhood knows what they're doing. I doubt proximity to the city would mean anything to them if they wanted to attack us."

"But we don't have regular troop movements", Grant said through a mouthful of nuts. "Is it possible they can't predict where we're going to be, so they decide to go after easier targets?"

Nate shrugged. "It's possible, but considering they're taking supplies from the Brotherhood too, it would stand to reason that, if they wanted the best equipment, they'd come after us." He paused to pull a few pieces of dried fruit from a pouch. "No matter how hard it was. My guess- and maybe I'm just being optimistic- is it's someone who doesn't like either of us, but hates the Brotherhood more. Or has a reason for not wanting to fight us."

"Any thoughts on who?" Jess asked, not so much to Nate, but to both of them.

"Don't know", Grant said, "the only people I can think of who would fit the MO is the Railroad. Small, fast hit and run tactics. Well organized and precise."

"That's what I was thinking", Nate agreed with a nod. "We'll need to be careful, they may want to keep the Institute alive for the sake of the Synths, but they don't like the Institute either."

His teammates nodded solemnly.

"At least if it is them, we know the more they attack the Brotherhood, the better they'll get at it. If I can say anything about them, it's they know how to fight a hit and run war." A small smirk spread across Jess's mouth. "They've been doing it with us for a long time."

"Too bad about that", Grant said, tone anything but repentant.

A few moments later, the three pouches of food were empty. Nate checked the time. 0625. Enough time.

Keying his mike, the ex-soldier requested a route to their Courser team's position, specifying they avoid any potentially dangerous zones. It wouldn't keep them out of trouble, but at the very least they would be at lower risk. The tech on the other side replied with instructions a minute later, and when Nate got their final destination, a hospital building on the north end of the city, he hesitated for a moment. That was 6 miles away. The Coursers had tracked their target that far in the few hours they'd been asleep? Or were they going off information Nate didn't have yet?

It didn't matter, they needed to get moving.

"Alright, let's get out of here", the ex-soldier said, standing with a deep stretch. "Got a few hours of hostile city to cross."

The other two followed suit and exited the shack into the slowly brightening ruins that had once been Boston's suburbs. The scale of destruction and the centuries of erosion still caught Nate off guard every once in a while. He could picture what this area looked like before the bombs fell, just a few months ago for him.

It didn't reconcile with what was in front of him now.

The question bugged him as they began their trek, slow and careful, through the ruined neighborhoods: why and how had a Synth escaped now? Maybe he was a little miffed at the wasted effort early that morning at the warehouse, but it didn't make sense for Li to execute another escape now. Wasted effort may have been a little strong, they accomplished a lot by taking that supply depot.

Unless… was there something critical about this guy? The only thing that made sense would be if this was something they had to do fast, quick, and in a hurry. Obviously, with their communications being monitored, it would be impossible for her to inform him of what was happening but… this whole situation stunk.

And here he was again, creeping through the destroyed city he'd once called home. Still did, the ex-soldier supposed.

The trio started out moving slow, mostly from Nate's lead. There was no way he would risk them running into something because they were tired and careless. Especially if they were tired. The last thing they needed was a firefight with a superior force. Jess and Grant had proven competent the night before, but that's a far cry from a professional soldier.

Turns out it was a good thing he did. A half-mile into their journey the fireteam was entering a street running between two relatively intact apartment buildings. Nate was dubious of walking through them, with their high, commanding views of the street below, it would be a position any amateur could set an ambush up from. After a few moments of observation, it turned out he was right. He saw the massive, lumpy green shapes of several Supermutants milling around on the bottom floor of the building on their left.

Nate counted five of them.

Five in the lobby, who knows how many on the floors above. That would be a bad idea.

Waving the two ARD scientists back south down the road they'd used to that point, the fireteam gave the apartments a three block berth as they continued on their way. Recon teams hadn't placed Supermutants there, or they wouldn't have been routed through that area, but those bastards were spreading fast. Nate had to wonder where they were all coming from.

As they walked, the ex-soldier's mind flashed back to his conversation with Ayo. Had the man known anything about this he hadn't told Nate about? Were there any clues during their conversation?

No, the SRD leader had kept things simple and concise, but there had to be a reason he, and most likely Shaun, wanted him and his team out in the field. To this point, his son had been relatively protective of him, and while he didn't dislike being in the Commonwealth… doing this with two new people was nerve-wracking.

For the umpteenth time, Nate felt the yawning chasm Damon's absence left. Even out here, it was in more ways than one.

When the three of them arrived at a large four-way intersection, taking a road that would lead them north almost all the way to the hospital, Jess waved for the two men to stop. She had already crossed to the northwest corner and was staring up at the buildings behind them. Nate couldn't tell if she saw anything, or she just wanted extra time to check, but either way, idling there was a great way to get ambushed.

The infantryman keyed his mic. "Status, Conklin."

She paused, glancing at him from across the street. "I don't know", the ARD tech whispered through the comms. "Something feels off."

While the two of them weren't experienced, a 'bad feeling' wasn't something to ignore. At the very least, if they did, even if there was nothing there, she would be distracted by it, and that could leave them open to an actual attack.

Waving Grant toward the side of the building on their corner he said, "Find some cover, I'll come to you."

After another short hesitation, Conklin nodded and backed away from the street corner and into a small alcove blown into the brick building beside her. As she did, Nate slipped around the corner and down the adjoining street, careful to stay in the shadows cast by the crumbling towers around him. Once he was a dozen yards from the intersection, he cleared the buildings on the north side of the street, he crossed, scrambling around the small piles of rubble.

The ex-soldier made it to the other side of the street and skirted back toward the intersection.

"Conklin, I'm coming up from your left, keep the buildings ahead of you clear, and don't shoot me."

"Understood", the response came, Jess's voice thick with concentration.

As soon as he was within sight of her again, he ducked into the building beside him and began scanning the surrounding structures. He couldn't see anything, through the collapsing facades, blown-out windows, and dark shadows within, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything there.

Despite that, the ex-soldier was getting suspicious as well. He couldn't put a finger on why though; maybe it was as simple as believing what his teammate felt. Sitting around was only going to get them killed though.

"Grant, move to the street corner and take the same route I did. I'll cover. We need to get moving."

"Got it", the reply came and a few seconds later the slim, taller man emerged from the building and crept toward the corner. Nate mirrored him, moving back down the street, watching the opposite windows once again. Still nothing. And on top of that, the city was eerily silent. Sure there had been the customary distant gunfire, but other than the Supermutants, they hadn't seen anything.

While that was a good thing, in the infantryman's experience, that only meant trouble was waiting for them. Trouble was saving up to dump everything on them at once.

Once the other man had joined Nate on the north side of the street, the two of them slipped back toward the corner and into the building.

"Jess, have you seen anything?"

"Nothing."

"Okay then let's g-"

"Wait", she hissed. "I saw movement, southeast corner, second floor."

Once again waving Grant to the side, Nate took cover, hiding from that direction, and began scanning the other buildings. Most newbies look for whatever their teammate calls out, but that's a mistake. Jess was already searching for signs of that movement again, his eyes in the same spot wouldn't do them any good. He needed to be looking for something different. Another position, another threat.

"Did you see what it was", Nate asked, still scanning.

"No, just that something was there."

Who or whatever it was hadn't fired, and they'd been exposed to them. That meant they either didn't want to fight or were a scout. In either case, that meant they needed to unass and now.

"Alright, change route, move a block west and continue north. Jess maintain position and cover, follow on my mark, I'll take point, Grant you're with me. "

Without waiting for a response, the ex-soldier moved from his cover and began heading west, trying to keep the collapsing buildings between himself and where Jess had seen the movement. After he'd taken a dozen paces, he heard the other man follow.

Their pace was faster than it had been as they padded down the sidewalk, careful to avoid the rubble and crystalline glass shards littering the splintered concrete. Someone knew they were there, it wouldn't help to make more noise, but they had to move quickly.

A moment later, the two of them arrived at the street corner of the next intersection, this one with smaller, one-story storefronts on the west side. Why hadn't they been routed through this path?

It didn't matter, all that mattered was getting Jess now.

"Stay here", Nate whispered to Grant. The ARD scientist nodded and ducked into cover while the ex-soldier slipped back toward the intersection where Jess was still waiting.

"Any updates, Conklin?"

"No", came the still terse reply. "Nothing."

"Good. I'll be there in 30 seconds. When I get back, I want you to move directly toward me. Understood?"

"Understood."

Her voice said she was nervous, but she had it under control. That was good, the last thing he needed was someone freezing up, especially out here without the safety net of the Coursers or a larger team.

Once he reached the corner, the ex-soldier began scanning for threats once more. Jess's footsteps came from behind him and a few seconds later she ducked into the building he was beside. As soon as she had, the two of them beat feet for Grant's position-

Just in time to hear a gunshot rip through the thick blanket of silence.

A round zipped by Nate's head close enough he could hear the crack loud enough to wince. It was followed almost immediately by a second report. In the city, it was damn near impossible to tell what direction that had come from.

"Move!" the ex-soldier shouted, and the two of them broke into a run.

As they did, Nate caught the form of Grant shifting out from his cover and begin firing back down the street.

More rounds sailed past the two of them as they ran for the relative safety of the next intersection. Their teammate's laser rifle launched lance after lance over their heads at the unseen assailant, but the incoming barrage didn't wane.

That's okay. It's okay. They were only a few paces from the corner and once-

The ex-soldier watched as something hit Grant and the man tumbled backward out of sight.

Oh shit. A pit formed in Nate's stomach as he raced toward his downed teammate.

Oh shit.

Had he just gotten one of his people killed? On their second operation? A day after their first? Had he been careless? Could he have prepared them better? Should he have insisted on not bringing them along? Or at least bringing support? Was he too hasty, letting the Coursers begin the search without them, leaving the three of them vulnerable?

When Nate rounded the corner of the brick building Grant had been using for cover, bullets still cracking by behind him, he found the other man sitting, back against the building, breathing heavily.

"Jess", the infantryman shouted, pointing inside, "cover us from in there." Fear and concern flashed through her eyes, but this was no time for that. "We don't have time for concerns, we act or we die. You don't need to expose yourself, just make sure they can't advance toward us."

She gave a hesitant nod, casting a glance at Grant, before slipping into the building.

"Are you okay?" Nate shouted over the still booming gunfire as rounds peppered the side of the building.

"I- I- I think so", the ARD tech said, wheezing. "The armor caught it."

The ex-soldier gave the chest plate he was wearing a quick once over. Sure enough, a small furrow was carved into the plate over his left clavicle. It had probably knocked the wind out of him, but he'd live.

"Alright, let's get going then."

Helping his teammate to his feet, he called to Jess. "Fall back, we're moving."

Again, not waiting for a response, Nate helped the slimmer man hobble down the street, scanning the crumbling brick and concrete buildings around them for potential threats.

Nothing.

That was good, they probably wouldn't fare well with a second ambush.

Jess hurried to get in front of them and take point. It almost put a smile on the ex-soldier's face. He hadn't even needed to tell her to do that.

After a minute or so of half dragging Grant down the street, the other man pat Nate's shoulder. "I think I'm good to walk."

Nodding, the infantryman slipped away from him and, while a bit unsteady, the ARD tech stayed on his feet and shouldered his laser rifle. They may be new, but Nate had good people with him. This might not turn out to be a crazy idea after all.

With the team mostly back into fighting shape, the three of them continued down the street for another half dozen mostly destroyed blocks before the ex-soldier signaled a stop. He directed the two of them into a partially intact concrete and blown-out glass tower that, if memory served him right, was a bank.

"How are you doing?" Nate asked as Grant leaned against a wall.

"Oh, you know", he held out his hand. It was trembling so much, it was a shock he could hold his rifle. "First time getting shot, it wasn't so bad."

The ex-soldier smiled. "They get worse."

"Good to know", Grant said, returning the smile.

Turning to Jess, who was watching the entrance with an intensity he'd never seen from her before, Nate said, "great catch, Conklin."

Her head snapped toward him like she was shocked he'd addressed her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that was a great catch. Good awareness. You spotted a potential ambush. Those are instincts we're going to need out here." He flashed her a smile too. "Those aren't things you just learn."

It was then the ex-soldier noticed she was trembling too. This was different from the warehouse attack that morning. There, they were the ones dictating the terms of engagement; they'd been the ones to set the ambush. Now, out here, in the bombed-out husk that used to be Boston, they were at the mercy of whoever happened to be watching them. It was something Nate was painfully accustomed to, but Jess and Grant, this was a first for them. Another one.

"Hey. You did your job, and because of that we're all alive and unhurt. If it will make you feel better, once we get back, we can go over a few ambush sims." Nate turned back to Grant who was still slumped against the wall, laser rifle dangling from its sling. "Maybe you won't get shot in one of those."

"Ha ha. Very funny. You know, a few inches higher and I'd be dead."

Nate shrugged. "That's war. Don't think about it too much."

"It's hard not to."

"Oh I know, believe me", the ex-soldier replied, huffing.

"How many times have you been shot?"

The infantryman cocked an eyebrow. "I haven't made a habit of keeping track. I don't know, a half dozen? Twice since waking up here." The memory of pain exploding from his chest before everything went black, only to wake up with the massive form of Damon looming over him. The SPARTAN had saved him. Again.

Nate didn't try to stop the bitterness that crept into his mind.

"The first one almost killed me. No armor."

Knocking on the chest plate Grant said, "I guess I'm glad I have this then."

"You'll be singing a different tune in a few hours when the adrenaline wears off and the bruise begins forming." The ex-soldier checked the time. "You good to keep moving?"

The other man pushed himself away from the wall and nodded. "Good as new."

"Uh-huh." He was probably being sarcastic, but Nate was still going to nip any macho bullshit in the bud. The last thing any fireteam needs is someone trying to 'tough out' an injury that affects their performance. "I'll take point, Jess you're on rear guard."

With a nod from his teammates, the three of them slipped back out into the street and continued toward the hospital where they were supposed to meet up with their Coursers. Nate wanted to get there as soon as possible. Wandering around the city with no safety net was… nerve-wracking, and he didn't need any more reason to have an episode.

The remainder of the journey, while tense, was uneventful. After traveling about another quarter mile through the destroyed city, they rejoined the original route. A few minutes after that, the hospital came into view. It was a wide, squat building which, before the bombs fell, made it look a bit out of place with the large towers surrounding it. Now, with most of those skyscrapers crumbling to nothing, the hospital was almost the same height as everything else. With the white paint faded, most of the windows blown out, and several of its own walls crumbling from it, the sturdy structure was having its own problems. That being said, it was in much better shape than everything else in the area.

It was another fifteen minutes before they reached their goal, and Nate radioed ahead to alert the Coursers inside to their presence.

The trio of combat-specialized Synths met them outside.

Great... Now all they have to do is search this massive hospital for a high-value target that escaped with, seemingly, no one's knowledge.

Just another day.

Notes:

This was a really fun chapter to write. Not only did we get to explore some of the ways the Institute has started using its unique position to fight this war, but I've been trying to think of a fun way to write a larger-scale (for this story) fight. I'm happy with the way it came out, but now we've got some intrigue going on here. That's for next chapter though. I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 38: Familiar Friends, New Foe

Notes:

Well... I'm sorry. I could give an excuse about how my life has been... interesting lately but that shouldn't stop my posting the story. I promise to be more consistent in the future. As far as the actual story goes, things are starting to get interesting. There are a lot of questions cropping up now about what's going on, questions that will need to be answered if the Institute is going to win this. I'm not saying anything else though, that's what the massive block of text below this paragraph is for. Anyways, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Even if they didn't know exactly what they were walking into, Nate felt substantially more comfortable now they had two Courser fireteams with them, and three squads of regular Synths on the way. That and the fact they were no longer out in the open spaces of the city where someone could take a shot at them at any time.

Considering the circumstances, Jess and Grant had performed admirably. Conklin picked up on the potential ambush which was, like he said, something you couldn't teach, or at least not easily. And Collins' response was good, even if he should have positioned himself better so he hadn't been hit.

That being said, Nate didn't want to go through that again, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

As soon as they were inside, splitting into two teams, one group, Nate's, began searching the massive hospital while the other stayed near the first floor's central hub. Since the Coursers had been there for around two hours, they'd already cleared the ER and part of the ICU, but they still probably had 90% of the building to go. On top of that, they couldn't do too much yet because the entrances weren't secure. That meant creeping through the many lobbies, halls, patient wards, and offices, all littered with everything from half-collapsed walls to hospital beds, trays, medical equipment, and, to his chagrin, a few skeletal remains.

At one point, as they weaved through the maze of crumbling halls and neared radiology, the Geiger counter built into Nate's Pipboy began ticking.

"The shielding for their X-rays must be compromised", one of the Coursers whispered. Searching radiology was probably not a great idea, even for the Synths. They were still 20 feet from the entrance, standing in a small waiting area.

"That's a no go then", Nate replied. "We'll continue searching everywhere else unless we get confirmation our target is in there."

"Agreed."

As the six of them moved back away from the dangerous radiation zone, the ex-soldier's mind found room to bring up the 'how' again. How had Andrew managed to make it out of the Institute? That wasn't someone Nate was even familiar with. Sure, he didn't know everyone involved in Li's team, but organizing an escape was… a complex task. With the number of moving parts involved, he would have known about it.

There were really only two explanations: Li did this behind his back which, while irritating, wasn't a huge deal so long as there was a reason for it, or another group was at play.

That second possibility worried Nate. Who else would have the resources, and want a Synth to escape? Especially one with such sensitive information on the Institute. Their nuclear reactor? Their weapons program? Those were big-ticket items, and if anyone who wanted to destroy the Institute found out about them, that would be a major problem.

The Brotherhood, for example.

Half an hour into their search, Nate was in what was at one point, about 250 years ago, an MRI room. The massive machine was, obviously, inert, its extremely powerful coil not energized, which was good considering the magnetic field it could produce. What was left of the instrumentation lay on the floor, smashed and scattered.

None of those things are what caught the ex-soldier's attention. It was the bones laying against the wall opposite the machine. Whoever that had been, they'd died painfully. Their right arm was missing below the shoulder, and a massive, faded stain made a four-foot circle around them. It hadn't been someone in the hospital when the bomb fell, their tattered, rustic clothing was something Nate had come to expect from the citizens of the Commonwealth. This person had been dead a while though. Their clothes were degrading, no flesh left on the skeleton, and the pistol laying on the floor next to them was rusted almost beyond recognition.

It wasn't their mission, but the image reminded the infantryman about how unforgiving his new life was. Like he really needed it.

"Sir", a dry, monotonous voice came over Nate's earpiece. "This is B9-32 with the responding support force. We have arrived at the hospital and are ready for assignment."

Shaking himself from his thoughts, the infantryman turned and began toward the exit. Andrew clearly wasn't here. "Copy. Form a perimeter, block off all ground floor exits. From the inside. We don't need to make ourselves targets."

"Understood sir", the response came.

Maybe it was just nerves, maybe the fighting at the warehouse, then the journey across Boston had gotten to him more than he wanted to admit. It was impossible to tell given the circumstances, but something about all of this sat wrong with Nate.

Beginning the search of another hall, the first door he opened was to a break room. It looked largely untouched by the surrounding devastation, aside from the ceiling tiles that had crumbled to the floor.

The more he thought about the possibilities, the less Li's involvement made sense. So if it wasn't her, who else could have gotten Andrew out? Was someone else in her group trying to sabotage it? No… that wouldn't make sense, if that were the case, they could just go to Ayo or Shaun and be done with it. Did someone do it behind her back? While it was possible, that also seemed unlikely. Everyone working on this 'project' knew what the risks and consequences were. They already had one major operation going on. Another escape at the same time would be- is incredibly risky.

After a few seconds of scanning, it was obvious nothing was in the room. The tables were all in their normal places, and unless this Synth they were looking for was incredibly small, none of the cabinets or alcoves were large enough for a person. Stepping back and allowing the door to swing shut, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

When he turned, he found Grant standing beside him. The others were continuing down the dark, crumbling hall, checking doors as they went.

"What's up?" the ex-soldier asked in a soft whisper.

"Don't you think this is a little weird?" Nate shot the other man a warning glance, but he continued. "Why would an escaped Synth come here? Why would their trail end here? We're still well within the city." Grant rubbed at the small furrow in his armor. "And they know we can track them, so why wouldn't they get as far away as possible. This isn't like Samantha- Andrew had a six-hour head start."

Nate blinked. His teammate was asking the same question he was without actually asking it: just what the hell is going on here.

I guess it's good to know I'm not the only one who has a bad feeling about this.

"I've been thinking about that too. I don't know, it doesn't make any sense. Maybe if someone wanted to hurt the Institute, taking someone who knows as much as Andrew would be a great way to do it, but the situation doesn't make any sense. Not just why, how?"

As the ex-soldier met Grant's eyes, a knowing gaze came back his way. This situation really didn't make any sense. The other man brought up a good point- Andrew had six hours' head start on them. At the very least he'd been in the hospital for a little over two hours, and that's assuming he got there just before the Coursers.

Motioning to continue the search, the two of them followed the others down the rubble-strewn hall.

The hospital was a good place to hold up: plenty of space to hide, relatively intact and defensible, and there were probably supplies in here, considering it didn't look ransacked. That's where the 'making sense' part of the program ended though. Why not beat feet and get as far away as possible. The more ground their target covered, the more dangerous it would be for a large group to follow. At the very least, it would make sense for the Synth to attempt an escape while they were searching the building. Their perimeter guard hadn't seen anything though.

So just what the hell was going on?

Swinging open a few more doors as he went, a possibility occurred to Nate that was… uncomfortable.

What if this is a setup?

He paused to watch the others clear room after room as they neared the end of this hall, another adjoining one waiting its turn to be searched.

If someone wanted to ambush them, for whatever reason, they had a fantastic opportunity. If that someone had time to prepare… that could be major trouble.

The pit in Nate's stomach surged back into existence.

"Wait one", he whispered into his comms. Jess, Grant, and the three Coursers looked at him. He didn't need the radio to talk with those five, but he wanted the rest of his forces and the Institute to hear this. "This situation is becoming more and more dangerous. Isaiah?"

There was a brief silence over the earpiece, but a few seconds later, the SRD technician's voice buzzed through.

"Isaiah here. Yes, Nate?"

"Do we have any new information on how this Synth escaped?"

"Unfortunately, no. All we know is they used the Molecular Relay to transit at 2351, terminal location was about a mile and a half east of where you are now."

Nate chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking the information, or lack thereof, through. Either there really was nothing new, or Isaiah couldn't talk about it over an open channel. The only way the ex-soldier knew one could use the Relay without a technician to operate it was to place information directly onto the server, like Li and her team did. If that's how this Synth escaped, they couldn't reveal that; it would be giving up their biggest asset.

"Understood. Be advised, these circumstances are… tenuous. We may be walking into a trap."

Another brief pause came over the radio and Jess shot him a suspicious glance. If he was thinking that, she was too.

"I'm sorry but- a trap?" Isaiah said, voice, and question, betraying his inexperience.

"We don't know who assisted this Synth in its escape, nor why it traveled such a short distance before stopping. The only thing we do know is it escaped during an incredibly important and sensitive operation", the ex-soldier hoped Isaiah got the insinuation, "it has even more sensitive information on the Institute, and we are now searching a location extremely well suited for an ambush."

"I understand", his response came. "What are you suggesting?"

That… he wasn't sure on that one yet. What he'd like to do is triple their numbers and flood the place with Synths, but that would only draw more attention. If they're queued up for an ambush, that's the last thing they need.

The ex-soldier grunted. "Still working on that. I'll keep you updated."

Why can't anything ever go as planned?

If it did, he'd have been back at the Institute, cooling his heels and congratulating himself on a job well done, both for the warehouse raid, and contacting the Railroad.

… Okay, that may have been a little excessive, but he wouldn't have had to sleep in another goddamn safehouse, amble through the city, get shot at again, and now risk getting ambushed.

Just another day in the life of a grunt.

Nate almost smiled.

Almost.

"Nate", Jess whispered. "I think it may be a good idea to regroup and rethink this." She was scanning the hallway, eyes darting from corner to door, probably looking for any signs of a trap.

The issue was they still had most of the hospital to search, and the place was impossible to track anyone through.

Taking the time to backtrack to the hub wasn't something he wanted to do though. If they were operating on the clock, and the infantryman was fairly certain they were, that would waste time. Continuing on like they are though… that seemed like a distinctly bad idea too.

The same question kept ricocheting through Nate's head: who did this? Who were they up against? The only logical answer was the Brotherhood, right? Then why weren't they here? Why had they-

"Something went wrong", Nate breathed. That's the only explanation. Was it the attack on the warehouse? Did that disrupt their extraction plan?

"Come again", Grant said.

Shit. He couldn't talk about his suspicions. If he did, it might tip someone off he was involved in Li's underground circle.

"Something went wrong", the ex-soldier repeated, turning to the Coursers. "Did any of you find recent signs of activity around the building besides the target entering?"

"Negative", X5-15 said. "The only indication of any foot traffic in the immediate area was disturbed rubble leading into the northern entrance. No other entrances or exits were tampered with, and there was no indication of an exit at the same location." He paused for a moment, and if Nate didn't know better, he'd have said the Synth was thinking. "There were no signs of disturbance in the block surrounding the hospital either."

"And there's no chance they were able to do so without leaving any trail?"

The Courser shook his head. "No. There is too much debris around the building for someone to move without notice."

"So we have to work under the assumption the target is alone in the building, and whoever helped him escape is on their way."

"Which means we have a deadline", Jess continued. "Just not one we know. If that's the case, we can't keep searching haphazardly, we have to narrow down the areas."

She was right, but how the hell were they going to do that in here? Not only was the hospital the largest in the state, but there were almost infinite places for someone to hide. Every room or closet was a potential hiding spot, especially for the short term.

Grant cleared his throat. "If we assume Andrew is attempting to hide for as long as possible, he will have guessed our search pattern would start at the bottom floor and work upwards. The most likely position would be somewhere close to the roof. With most of the buildings in the area collapsed, there would be plenty of escape routes from there." He glanced up at the ceiling which was missing most of its tiles to reveal the rusted piping and ducts above.

And if the Brotherhood were going to send a Vertibird for extraction…

The assumption the Brotherhood was behind this wasn't necessarily a safe one. There would have to be some way for them to establish another group within the Institute capable of smuggling Synths out. The only time they would have had the opportunity to do that was the attack, and they were only in the Institute for, what, 20 minutes?

Unless they found someone in Li's group-

Now wasn't the time for that sort of speculation. Grant had a good point, and they could start with that.

"Agreed. We'll start at the fourth floor and work our way up to the roof." Nate turned back to X5-15. "How many service staircases are there?"

"Five."

The ex-soldier keyed his mic again. "B9-32, I need you to station one Synth at the bottom of each service staircase, and one at the entrance to each on the fourth floor. Let me know when they're in position."

"Understood", the scratchy response came.

"Isaiah, are you still listening?"

"Yes."

"I need another two squads here. Drop them on the roof."

"But-" there was a short pause on the other end. No doubt the technician was thinking about the odds of giving away their position to the Brotherhood. If Nate was right, it wouldn't matter. "They'll be there in five minutes."

With a quick glance around the ex-soldier's team and the assembled Coursers, he said, "let's move to the fourth floor in the main staircase. Once the guards are in position, we'll split up, X5-15 take three Coursers with you, the other two with us. Divide the floors in half, move quickly, but watch for any signs of an ambush."

"Understood", the Courser team leader said, as Grant and Jess nodded.

The group began moving back through the ruined hospital toward the service staircase set in the northeast corner. This wasn't a perfect plan, but they had to make it work. If they were caught out before they found Andrew, and it was the Brotherhood looking for him… that intel would be crippling to the Institute.

"Our forces are in position", B9-32's voice buzzed through the ex-soldier's earpiece as they reached the fourth floor. The Synth standing guard there opened the rusted steel door to allow them through.

"Nice work, 32." Nate checked the clock on his Pipboy. Another three minutes before the extra squads transited to the roof. That gave them some time to get searching before they knew their position would be compromised. They were sending up a massive flare, teleporting that many Synths into one place, and even if the Brotherhood weren't responsible for this, they'd still want to find out what the hell is going on.

Without needing a command, the group split into two and began their individual searches. Nate and his team took the south side of the building, X5-15 and his taking the north. They searched as quickly as was safe, doing their best to scan every room, closet, alcove, and even holes in the crumbling walls as thoroughly as possible. The two Coursers were moving ahead of them, cloaked, sweeping the halls and intersections for signs of an ambush.

As they did, the ex-soldier felt his heart begin to pound harder and harder. The silence, only disrupted by quiet "clear!"s and the sound of rusty hinges creaking as doors were opened and closed was so tense, it felt like he had to consciously pull the air into his lungs.

If their stiff, abrupt movements were anything to judge by, his teammates were at least as nervous as he was. They thought they would be safe once they regrouped with the Coursers, but now… it felt as though they were in more danger than they had been traipsing through the city.

I need to calm down. They're feeding off my nerves.

Opening the door to a small examination room, Nate forced himself to breathe the musty, stale air in as deeply as he could. The room was empty, save for an exam table so rusty it had collapsed, and the small counter and shelves tucked in the corner. The walls were peeling with age, and the ceiling tiles, as with the rest of the hospital so far, were in pieces on the equally rough floor.

Once his lungs were full to the point of exploding, he pushed the air back out. Then did it again. And a third time. Regardless of whether they were about to be attacked, his anxiety wouldn't help.

"Nate", Isaiah's voice came over his comms. The man smiled, it was probably a good thing he'd taken a moment to calm himself, or that sudden intrusion on the thick, uncomfortable silence would have startled him.

"Go ahead."

"The Synths have been deployed."

"Copy that, good work Isaiah."

"This is A7-16", a new Synth, probably the squad leader, said. "Where would you like us?"

"Begin searching the roof, and move through the sixth floor once you're done. Wait for us there."

"Understood."

A modicum of relief teased into the ex-soldier's mind. Another dozen Synths wasn't a major force, but it meant their target couldn't escape from the roof, and they'd have a little more firepower if- when things went sideways.

He turned back to his teammates who were emerging from rooms they'd been searching. "How are we doing?"

Both met his gaze, eyes a little wider than they should have been.

"I thought the hard part was over", Jess said, smile a little wild. "I'd rather be back in that intersection."

The other man grunted. "Speak for yourself. I don't want to get shot again."

"That may end up happening again anyways", Nate said, thoughtfully stroking his chin.

"Thanks."

He slapped the slender man on the shoulder. "That's what we're here for. Get back to work, break time's over."

"You're the one who started it", Jess grumbled as she slipped over to the next door.

The next ten minutes passed in silence, no sign of their target, but no attacks yet either. Nate almost wished something would happen. This is always the worst part of any mission: knowing you're against the clock, but not knowing when that clock would run out. It was infuriating.

Then again, something happening wasn't necessarily them finding their target, so maybe it was good-

"Nate", Isaiah's voice came back over his earpiece. "We have a few reports from the recon teams watching the airport that several Vertibirds just left, heading due west."

Toward us.

"Time's up", he muttered. Keying his mic he said louder, "copy that. B9-32, prepare for incoming. A7-16, keep a squad on the sixth floor to continue searching, send the other down to the first floor to support B9-32."

Both replied with a prompt "understood" and the ex-soldier caught his teammates looking at him nervously.

"We'll be fine", he said with a calm that wasn't reflected by his pounding heart. "We keep searching, find Andrew, and get out. We know they're coming, and have plenty of buffer between us and them. We do our jobs while the Synths do theirs. Got it?"

Grant and Jess exchanged a glance before nodding.

"Good." Without another word, Nate turned to open the last door in the hall.

There was no telling how many people Maxson would dispatch to come after this Synth. If Nate was wrong and he didn't know about Andrew, it might just be a light recon force. If they were behind this, depending on how much they wanted the intel he had, they could send a task force. Either way, their best bet was to find him as fast as they could and extract.

Despite his racing heart, some of the tension that had been pulling Nate's muscles tight began subsiding. The fight was coming, he knew that now, they just needed to be gone before it got to them.

As the ex-soldier searched the last door, another exam room, he did his best to estimate how long it would take the Vertibirds to reach the hospital. It wasn't that far from the airport, maybe 10 miles as the crow flies? It wouldn't be more than 15 minutes from takeoff to touchdown, and at least 5 of that had already been taken up.

Swinging the door shut again, he stalked into the hall where Jess and Grant were already beginning their own searches.

His focus now was making sure they did as much looking before the Brotherhood showed up as possible. That had to be his only focus. Not only would that mean they'd be out of harm's way sooner, but the Synths downstairs fighting to keep the Brotherhood forces off of them would take fewer losses.

If there was anything he learned from hanging around Li and her people, it was they valued the lives of Synths, even these ones, as much as their own. It was hard to argue with them considering the interactions he's had with the artificial humans.

It was hard to argue after seeing the determination in Sam's eyes as she volunteered herself for what was, essentially, a suicide mission.

Their mission continued, searching the building room by room, the only sounds for the next few minutes the quiet "clear!" callouts they'd been making all day. It really was an exercise in frustration; the building was massive, and they didn't have the resources to search it quickly. Even if they did, that would put them at even greater risk. Now, with a Brotherhood force of unknown strength breathing down his neck, Nate's discomfort grew with every second that ticked by in his head.

Then he heard them.

It was faint at first, so faint the ex-soldier thought he might be hearing his own heartbeat. But after a few seconds, the pounding of rotors grew loud enough through the concrete and plaster around him, it was obvious the sounds were coming from Vertibirds. Their time was up, and they still had a quarter of the fourth floor to go.

"A7-16", he said into his microphone. "Status."

"Brotherhood aircraft approaching", the monotonous response came. "We still have approximately two-thirds of the floor to investigate."

Great…

"What area has been searched?"

"We began at the southwest corner and moved outwards."

"Okay, get into position on the roof, prevent any Brotherhood forces from entering."

"Understood."

"X5-15?"

"We have reached the northwest corner and are beginning toward you. At this rate, we should have this floor searched in four minutes."

"Copy that."

Nate shared a glance with his teammates. Both had wide-eyed fear plastered to their faces. This would be the third time in 12 hours they were in a gunfight, and it was the first three of their lives. That would be enough to rattle anyone. Hell, it was almost a month deployed before Nate found himself in his first combat.

"The faster we get this done, the faster we get back to the Institute. Deep breaths, double-check everything you do. We don't need to make mistakes now."

There was a brief hesitation, Jess and Grant staring at him, both struggling to get their emotions in check.

"Got it", Conklin said with a curt nod, and she restarted her search. A moment later, Grant followed suit and the three of them damn near raced through each room, checking for any signs of activity.

Nothing.

Another room.

Nothing.

A third.

Nothing.

The pounding rotors were so loud now, it felt as though the Vertibirds were directly overhead. Hell, for all he knew they were.

A report sounded. It was a laser rifle, but- that was wrong. The ex-soldier paused to listen.

Another shot. And it came from below.

"B9-32, status."

"We have engaged enemy forces. They appear to be in powered armor."

A pit formed in Nate's stomach. Power armor? How? When did they get there? Had the Vertibirds dropped them off and circled around? No, that would have been obvious. Were these forces already in the area? A patrol?

"Numbers?"

"Unclear", the response came as more weapons' fire sounded from below. "At least ten separate units."

Ten? There was no way that was a normal patrol. Those numbers practically confirmed the ex-soldier's suspicions. The Brotherhood was responsible for this escape. But how?

Later, get your ass in gear and keep searching.

Hurrying from the room he was in, the infantryman dropped all semblance of subtlety. He ran down the halls, flinging doors open, searching each room as quickly as he could without being reckless. His teammates followed suit.

A few moments later, he heard more laser fire begin from the roof. Despite knowing they could transit out at any time, the knowledge they were pinned in on both sides, fighting against T60 power armor was… The ex-soldier's gut was tied in knots so tight he felt like he might puke. His heart was pounding so hard he felt it might burst from his chest.

As he slammed another door open, all that greeted him was another, empty office.

"Goddammit", he whispered, the small voice in the back of his head sneaking its way out. He didn't think he said it loud enough for Grant or Jess to hear, but it was still a slip-up. They were already scared, and they knew he was nervous. The last thing they needed at that point was more reason to worry. Worried people make mistakes, and the last thing they needed at that moment was a mistake.

"We're good", Nate muttered a little louder, hopefully, loud enough for his teammates to hear over their hurried footsteps pounding on the hard floor and crunching over debris.

The ex-soldier's earpiece crackled to life. "Sir", B9-32's voice came through, "We have had to retreat to the second floor. There are too many entrances on the bottom level to defend, at least 12 Brotherhood units have entered the building."

So much for that idea.

"How many people have you lost?"

"Five", the almost nonchalant answer came, "we have 31 units remaining."

31 people. That wasn't enough. Not to cover that many points of egress.

"X5-15, take your team downstairs and help shore up the defense."

"Understood", the Courser responded. Those gauss rifles would be a godsend against the power armor. It could buy them a few more minutes.

"Keep moving", he said to Jess and Grant. They still had 20 minutes of searching to go. That wasn't good enough.

That wasn't good enough. They have too much ground to cover, with only the three of them, and the two Coursers scouting ahead.

Fourth floor's out.

He made a call. Hopefully it was the right one. "Fourth floor's a no-go, move to the fifth."

The two scientists looked at him, faces wild with fear now. Nate couldn't lie to himself, he was scared too. They weren't ambushing the Brotherhood this time, they didn't have the element of surprise, the freedom of movement, and the advantage of violent action. Maxson's forces had all that now, and they were trapped.

No. Their Coursers met up with them at the service staircase in the next hall. We aren't trapped. We have the Relay.

That thought did very little to assuage the infantryman's fears. Almost two decades of being taught they were dead if they got pinched in a dead-end like this wasn't going to go away with some platitudes. They need to find Andrew, and they need to get the hell out of there.

The Coursers, one with Z1-14, and the other with X6-55 embroidered on their jackets led the way up the service staircase. Nate could hear the incredibly heavy steps from the T60 power armor lumbering up the stairs below, laser fire now a constant accompaniment. Even in the short time the ex-soldier piloted one of those suits, he came to appreciate just how incredibly powerful they were. That level of protection, the power to break through pretty much anything- it made their cumbersome movement and massive frames almost non-factors.

Unless they were fighting Damon, that is.

Yeah, well, he isn't here.

Z1-14 swung the door to the fifth floor open and surged into the hall beyond. This one was offices and labs, rows upon rows of them. The ex-soldier groaned internally. That was the absolute last thing they needed. But they couldn't stop. They had to keep going.

"Stay close, no wandering", Nate said as his fireteam followed the Coursers out in the hall. "You two are on point, but stay within sightlines."

"Understood", the Synths replied in unison. Grant and Jess… they looked damn near catatonic.

"Hey, we've got a job to do. If we don't find Andrew, everyone in the Institute will be at risk. Think about everything and everyone we're fighting for. Think about everything you've accomplished." The ex-soldier loaded the last sentence with as much implication as he could. "If the Brotherhood gets their hands on the information Andrew has, all of that is in danger. Now suck it up, and let's go."

Those words were as much for him as they were for his teammates. Nate's heart pounded so hard it hurt, and his hands were shaking to the point holding his rifle was difficult. He'd never had power armored soldiers coming after him, but he'd supported plenty during his time serving. They were terrifying, and now he had a platoon's worth up his ass. Maybe more.

As they began searching the fifth floor, the ex-soldier remembered that wasn't quite true. The Brotherhood had come after him twice before, in Diamond City, and when they attacked the Institute. There was a major difference between now and then though: Damon wasn't here.

Damon isn't here. Damon isn't here. I am. I have the forces I have and worrying about that now is only going to get everyone killed.

X6-55 swung a door open-

The Courser hesitated and Nate's heart leaped. Had she found the target? Were they done? Could they leave?

"Clear", the overly calm, almost disconnected voice came. The word set the infantryman's heart pounding again. He'd gotten his hopes up for no reason. Focus. Focus. Focus.

The gunfire from both above and below felt as though it were getting closer. That was probably just his imagination.

Right?

"A7-16, status."

"We are maintaining our defense at the roof access. Five power armor-equipped units were inserted on the roof. Two are down and the two Vertibirds retreated after we hit the cockpits. Three of our units are disabled."

That was… good. That was good. They only had three left to deal with up there, and it seems like after they lost three VTOLs that morning, they didn't want to risk any more.

But A7-16 only had five Synths left, including himself. Would that be enough to deal with the Brotherhood forces up there?

The next room Nate searched was some sort of testing lab. Other than the aging electronics and pieces of equipment he didn't recognize, nothing was in it.

"Copy. B9-32, what's your status?"

"We have lost eight more units, and dispatched three. However, an additional five Brotherhood soldiers have arrived. We have fallen back to the third floor."

Only two floors below theirs, and 23 Synths left, not including the Coursers. The little voice in the back of every soldier's head that quietly muttered "oh shit" when things got bad wasn't so little anymore. It was near the center of his thoughts as he searched the office attached to the testing lab.

"X5-15, status."

"We have flanked the Brotherhood force and dis-"

The rest of the Courser team leader's answer was cut off.

That pit in the ex-soldier's stomach doubled in size and he stopped, mid-stride.

"X5-15", he repeated. "X5-15?"

Nothing.

"Isaiah, do you copy?"

Nothing.

The ex-soldier pulled the radio from his vest. It was on, and the channel hadn't been changed. If nothing was wrong with his comms-

Their signal was being jammed.

Ice replaced Nate's blood, running through him so quickly it felt as though his entire body had turned into it. His heart struggled against the strain, and both of his arms were trembling now. His breath was coming in deep, painful heaves, and he could feel another episode crowding over him like a terrifying, black storm.

What were they going to do? What could they do? They couldn't signal for transit without comms. They were stuck, attackers both above and below. How were they going to get out? Were they going to die? Is this how it would all end? Here? Without ever having made up for what happened?

"Nate?" a quiet voice came from behind him. The ex-soldier twisted around so quickly he almost sent himself tumbling into the office's large desk.

Jess was standing in the doorway, staring at him.

Her eyes were glistening.

No- no he couldn't- he couldn't let it end there. He couldn't let these people down- his people down. They were his responsibility, and he wasn't going to abandon people he swore to keep safe again.

NOT AGAIN.

"Let's get to the roof, we're scrubbing this mission. We'll meet up with A7-16, deal with the forces on the roof and move down to assist B9-32. Since they're jamming comms, we fall back and use the roof as an escape."

"Wh- what about Andrew?" There was more than just concern for the Institute in her wavering, she was worried about the Synth.

Nate shook his head. "We can't risk it. If we stay here, we die, and if we die, he falls into the Brotherhood's hands anyway." His eyes dropped to the floor momentarily. "I'm sorry."

When he met her gaze again, it wasn't the anger or disappointment he'd expected.

Jess was relieved.

Did that mean he was making the right call? The ex-soldier didn't know, but it was the call he was making.

"Let's go", he said softly. The two of them exited back into the hall where Grant and the two Coursers were waiting.

"Lead us to the roof. We're rendezvousing with the forces there, eliminating the Brotherhood above us, then bringing the others up to use it as an escape. We're abandoning our target."

Both Synths looked at me with the same, dead-eyed expression they always had.

"Is that a wise decision?" X6-55 asked.

"We're gonna end up dead if we don't, which means it wouldn't matter anyway." He wasn't in the mood for a debate on the matter. "Get moving."

Without another word, the two Coursers turned to march toward the set of service stairs at the end of the hall. In them, the sounds of laser fire reverberated up the concrete and metal chute from only a few floors below. That was a reminder the ex-soldier didn't need.

The five of them hurried up to the sixth floor and, once they burst through the steel service door, rushed through the crumbling halls until they found the roof access.

By the time they climbed the small flight of stairs and arrived at the exit where sunlight and gunfire were pouring through, another one of A7-16's Synths had gone down. With the exchange of laser fire spearing into the doorway, it was impossible to tell where the Brotherhood soldiers were or how many were left.

"A7-16", Nate called over the sounds of fighting, "our communications are being jammed. We're here to assist in clearing the roof."

The squad leader backed down the stairs, away from the lances of brilliant blue and red. "Does this mean you have found the target?."

"Negative", the ex-soldier shook his head, "but if we stay here everyone is going to end up dead." He turned to the Coursers. "Can you two get outside and flank the Brotherhood forces up there?" The two Synths nodded in unison. "As soon as you're in position, open fire. We'll support once you do."

"Understood", Z1-14 responded as the two of them began fading from view. As usual, Nate found himself marveling at that technology. How useful would that have been when he was in?

Slipping back up the stairs, A7-16 relayed the new orders to his remaining three Synths. They continued taking regular potshots through the door at the power-armored soldiers. They must have been able to concentrate their fire on the two they'd killed. That's the only way their enhanced laser weapons would be able to punch through T60. Eventually. That's what would have to work here. The Coursers' gauss rifles could do it, if they hit the right spot though, and that's what they were all counting on.

Nate took position behind the white armored Synths-

And waited.

It seemed like an unbearably long pause, red laser fire spearing in, blue beams shooting out in return, the sounds of battle raging below clawing at the infantryman's ears and the back of his mind. A quick check of his Pipboy told him it had only been 30 seconds since the Coursers faded away, but each second felt as though it were dragging on as long as possible. Each second felt like it wanted to prolong every instant of nervous tension.

Nate took a deep breath, trying to calm his pounding heart. He had to relax, the shaking in his arms would make him useless in a gunfight. And they were about to have a gunfight.

As if on cue, the strange, piercing report of the Coursers' gauss rifles exploded from the roof and the incoming laser fire dropped off. Taking that as their opportunity, the remaining four Synths surged out onto the roof, blue beams flying.

More than a little hesitant, the ex-soldier forced himself to the door and leaned around it just enough to bring his rifle to bear. For such a small fight, the roof was chaos, backlit by the late morning sunlight. Laser bolts were spraying back and forth, a half dozen bodies, both Brotherhood and Institute littering the crumbling concrete. As he watched, one of the Synths and the penultimate power armored soldier fell.

The last was standing beside a massive air conditioning unit a few dozen feet from the door, shooting at the trio of approaching Synths. One of the bolts scored a hit on A7-16's shoulder, but the squad leader continued forward armor smoking.

The ex-soldier would be damned if he let them take any more punishment than they needed to. This was his idea, he'd better see it through.

With another deep breath, he pressed the handguard of his rifle against the doorframe to steady its shaking and took aim at the Brotherhood soldier. Nate almost scoffed; even with the support, his arms were trembling so badly, he could barely keep his sights on the fighter's head.

Focus.

The infantryman did as best he could and squeezed off a round. He didn't know if it was on purpose or pure chance, but the round hit the Brotherhood soldier in the head. The impact didn't kill them, but they stopped firing and tried to crabwalk around the HVAC unit-

Just in time for more gauss rifle fire to sound.

Sparks flew as the hypersonic projectiles crashed into the side of their target. And then another volley as the soldier disappeared from the ex-soldier's views.

On the third, Nate watched as their last target tumbled from behind the air conditioner and lay motionless on the cracked concrete roof.

They'd done it. The roof was clear.

A not insignificant wave of relief washed over the ex-soldier. They weren't trapped anymore. They had an escape.

But the job wasn't done.

"Back downstairs", he shouted. They needed to go; their forces below didn't have the luxury of surprise, or the advantage of space. They were fighting through tight halls and more soldiers.

As the now eight-person group hurried back toward the nearest service staircase, Nate found himself wondering when the Brotherhood developed jamming. Technology. It wasn't complicated, flooding the air with powerful radio waves to overwhelm any receiver, but why hadn't they used it before this? It wasn't like-

The building shook.

The building shook.

The hospital was a sturdily built structure, concrete, and steel, with deep foundations and massive supports holding everything up. For it to shake…

Bombs. Had the Brotherhood brought bombs? Something that large-

A gunshot exploded into the tight, crumbling hallway they were in, and the ex-soldier barely had time to register it before a second sounded. And a third.

Nate flung himself to the ground and scurried toward an adjoining corridor a few feet ahead.

Before he could reach it, a fourth, and fifth report sounded. They weren't the odd, somewhat muted laser gunshots, they were the deep, booming explosions of conventional weapons' fire, damn near deafening in the confines of the hospital.

And it was something big.

As suddenly as it started, the shooting stopped. Listening for movement was useless, the ex-soldier's ears were ringing so hard he could barely hear himself think.

There weren't many spots for shooters to hide in the corridor which meant they were probably dealing with a small group at worst. Whatever they were shooting was large caliber and semi-automatic. That information wasn't helpful beyond the knowledge the armor he was wearing probably wouldn't stop it. If it had been one shooter though, they were firing so quickly the shots couldn't have been very accurate.

Glancing to his right, he saw Jess, sitting across the hall from him, back against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, hands clamped over her ears. The scientist's eyes were screwed shut. He shouldn't have brought her or Grant. They weren't ready for this. The warehouse, that was something they'd planned and drilled. This was the wild, uncontrolled violence of normal combat, not a carefully practiced ambush.

Beside her, the two Coursers were crouched, X6-55 aiming partway down the hall, and Z1-14 covering Nate. Blood was pooling at his feet. The Synth had been hit, but he showed no signs of it.

"What's the situation?" the ex-soldier whispered, the ringing in his ears finally beginning to subside.

X6-55 shifted as she aimed further down the corridor. "Unknown number of hostiles. Grant and the other Synths are dead."

The world froze. Grant- Grant was dead? No… No. No, that couldn't be right. She couldn't be-

Without thinking, Nate peaked around the corner-

And found the tall, slender man lying in the rubble-strewn hall amid the dead Synths. He was face up, half of his head missing, splattered across the floor behind his body.

Grant was- Grant was gone. Grant was gone.

"You son of a bitch", Nate whispered. Whoever had ambushed them- it was the Brotherhood, right? It had to be. They'd gotten someone past the battle downstairs. That was the only reasonable explanation.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" The infantryman's voice came out in a roar this time and he twisted back behind the corner, the small voice in his head wondering how he was still breathing.

He- he brought Grant along on this, he'd brought both of them. Grant was dead and- and they were probably next. Somehow, in the torrent of anger, grief, and regret, he still noticed each shot their attacker fired had hit. The only one that wasn't a headshot was the one that hit Z1-14. Who the hell could do that? Who could fire a large caliber rifle accurately at that rate?

An answer teased at the back of his mind, but the ex-soldier wasn't listening. Whoever it was, they'd killed one of his teammates. Nate didn't care who it was, he was going to make sure he took them to hell with him.

As his heart pounded so loud in his ears, it almost deafened him, the infantryman realized something else: there was no more fighting downstairs. Was that his imagination? The shaking from before, what was that? Was it… explosives?

"Sir", Z1-14 said quietly, his voice breaking apart the thin shell of fury Nate had constructed around himself. "If we remain here, we will be flanked."

Flanked? They'd be-

The ex-soldier's mind brought the image of Grant's body back, laying in a pool of brain matter and spreading blood.

Whoever did that was dangerous, and if they'd taken out the three Synths in the same instant…

His anger began melting into fear. Who were they dealing with?

"R- right." First step was to get across to them. If the fighting was over downstairs, they needed to investigate, see what happened. Right? If the Brotherhood had won, and they were pinned down, this fight was over anyway. They needed to find out what happened. If the Coursers could cover the hall, Nate would take point moving toward the staircase, Jess and Grant-

A lump crept so far up his throat it felt like he was about to puke.

One step at a time.

"I'm coming to you", Nate said, doing everything he could to steady his voice. Both Coursers nodded, and the infantryman held up three fingers.

Then two.

Then one.

As soon as his hand closed to a fist, the Synths peered around the corner and began firing their gauss weapons down the corridor. Neither of them knew where the target was, but it didn't matter; they just needed to keep the attacker's head down until Nate was across.

He didn't waste any time. While the incredibly high-speed projectiles tore through the hall, he scrambled behind the Coursers. Once he was safely in cover again, they backtracked around the corner and resumed their posts.

Conklin was still sitting on the floor, hands clasped over her ears.

"Hey. Jess", Nate said softly, "we need to go." He set his hand on her shoulder. "We can't let whoever got Grant kill us too, okay?"

After a moment of silence, which by itself was disconcerting, she looked up to meet his gaze. Jess had always been confident. She was competent and proud.

Now the ARD scientist looked lost. If Nate was honest with himself, that's how he was feeling too. But he couldn't let that affect him. He was responsible for her, and the two remaining Synths he knew were alive. Coming here had been a mistake, but that couldn't stop him now, he had to get the rest of them out.

"We need to get downstairs."

"Down- downstairs? Why would we go downstairs?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Whoever ambushed us will expect us to go up, and we need to see what happened."

Another few seconds of confused staring later, Jess nodded and struggled to her feet.

"Good. I'll take point", Nate looked at the Coursers. "I want you two on our six."

"Understood", they replied in unison.

Shoving the roiling thoughts and emotions that crowded his mind as far away as possible, the ex-soldier began down the hall toward the southeast corner where another service staircase was waiting. Every step he took, every door he passed, and every dilapidated intersection he crossed felt like it would be his last. He had no way of knowing where the next attack would come, and his eyes darting to every alcove and shadow didn't help. There were too many places to hide, too many possible ambush spots.

It didn't matter though. As he walked, Nate forced the fear and panic as far away as he could. Whoever this was, were they a third party? Did they stumble into someone's home, like he and Damon had with Curie? And if it was only one attacker, who the hell was it?

Reaching the steel door leading into the service staircase, the infantryman signaled the three behind him to stop. They waited a moment, looking up and down the dim, rubble-strewn hall.

Nothing.

How was there nothing? No shooting from below, no sounds of pursuit, no heavy thuds of power armor moving, not even the pounding rotors of the Vertibirds. What the hell was going on?

The fear floating around the back of his mind began twisting into outright terror. The air in the hospital was thick and heavy. Nate felt as though someone was watching them, stalking them, waiting to pounce.

He felt like they were being hunted.

Keep moving.

With a push, the infantryman swung the door open with a painfully loud creak-

Nothing.

Nothing was waiting for him in the darkened staircase, no one there to shoot at him.

That may have been worse if there had been. A few moments ago, the Synths were fighting a pitched battle against their encroaching Brotherhood enemies.

And now it was silent, save for his and Jess's ragged breathing.

Keep moving.

Nate crept into the staircase, footsteps almost embarrassingly loud on the steel platform. He swept his rifle around, looking for any potential threats.

Nothing.

Heart pounding so hard it hurt, the infantryman began down the stairs to the fourth floor. The others followed behind, Z1-14 pulling the door shut behind him.

The small group continued down the staircase until they reached the third floor, a journey that, while it couldn't have been more than 30 seconds, felt as though it stretched into eternity. Each clanging step was startling, each breath was labored, every noise imagined or real, was their attacker coming to finish the job. The staircase felt like it was constricting around them, suffocating them, trying to end them.

Eventually, they reached the door to the third floor.

And Nate could smell the burnt flesh.

It wasn't a pleasant odor. An acrid mixture of sour and sickly sweet, it made the ex-soldier want to puke.

Motioning for the others to halt, he tapped the door handle. Warm but not hot.

"55", he whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. He waved her down and pointed at the door. The Courser nodded and crept passed a still lost-looking Jess.

Nate grabbed the handle and held up three fingers again. Then two. One.

On zero, he pulled the door open and X6-55 slipped out. The ex-soldier followed on her heels and the two of them split to either side of the hall they emerged into.

Bodies.

Among the charred and burnt rubble, plasterboard, ceiling tiles, and the occasional piece of furniture were a half dozen bodies, including two in blackened T60 power armor. Behind the fear and revulsion, Nate realized whatever did this was an incendiary device. With the amount of soot, smell of burnt flesh, and relatively little structural damage, there was no way this had been conventional explosives.

That meant whoever set it up was, one, not with the Brotherhood considering the two bodies lying 10 feet away, and two, knew exactly what they were doing.

Keep moving.

"Clear", he whispered, and X6-55 responded in kind an instant later.

Jess exited the stairs into the hall behind him, followed by Z1-14 who, again, swung the door shut.

The ex-soldier keyed his mic again. "This is Nate, is anyone still alive?" The question seemed ridiculous, but considering the remains he was looking at, it was difficult to believe anyone survived. "Isaiah, do you copy?"

Nothing.

Their comms were still being jammed. The question was becoming less and less how though, and more who.

"Let's keep moving."

After receiving nods in return, Nate began down the corridor, careful to avoid the bodies lying in prone, charred messes on the now bare concrete floor. The smell was so overpowering, he had to actively combat his gag reflex.

They continued through the halls, searching for possible survivors, careful to avoid making themselves easy targets. The entire floor was a cinder, and the more Nate saw the more he was convinced this ambush was planned. He rounded another corner to find three more Brotherhood soldiers lying dead in their burnt power armor.

Whoever did this had waited until the fighting had moved to the third floor before detonating. It was clinical, and while it wasn't clean, the damage was very intentional.

Despite wandering the halls for five minutes, the smell didn't improve at all. If anything, the ex-soldier felt himself growing more and more disgusted by it. The look on Jess's face told him she felt much the same.

They were wasting their time though no one-

The only warning Nate had was an almost imperceptible whoosh before something came crashing through a door beside them, sending splinters scattering along with the four of them in a deafening boom.

Something heavy slammed into the ex-soldier's chest- or he slammed into it, Nate couldn't tell. If he hadn't been wearing a chest plate, it probably would have cracked a few ribs. As it was, the infantryman grunted in pain as he rolled to his left, pulling his rifle to bear-

BOOM.

A gunshot went off in the confined space and something crashed into his chest, even harder than whatever he'd hit. The impact drove the air from his lungs and sent spears of pain stabbing through his torso. It felt like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. Stars exploded in his vision, his ears were already ringing from the report, and his head was swimming.

Tumbling backward to the hard floor, the only thing that kept Nate from blacking out was sheer force of will. He pushed past the pain, and terror, and exhaustion, and breathlessness to lean over onto his side and shove his rifle into position again-

He didn't understand what he was looking at. Did he hit his head? Did he have a concussion? Was he hallucinating?

It was-

"COME ON!" Jess screamed over the ringing in his ears, pulling the ex-soldier to his feet. "WE NEED TO GO!"

Nate looked at her, breathless, and confused.

"Bu-" he began to wheeze, but she wasn't going to wait for him. The ARD scientist grabbed his arm and began sprinting down the hall, pulling him along. The infantryman didn't have the strength to resist. He was just… what was going on?

Another deafening BOOM went off behind them. Even with his ears buzzing anew, he heard the sickening sounds of bones snapping and something wet tearing. Nate tried to look back over his shoulder, but before he could, his teammate pulled him into an adjoining passage. Suddenly, she was the one taking charge when he was confused, dazed, and useless.

They made another turn, and the ex-soldier realized she was leading him toward another of the service staircases. She was trying to get them out.

But why?

Why were they running?

"Stop", he wheezed again. "Stop!"

Conklin glanced over her shoulder at him. "Do you want to die?!"

"No, we'll-"

"We won't. We won't be fine."

As they rounded another corner, the door to another service staircase appeared in front of them.

And X5-15 with the other two Coursers Nate sent down during the attack.

The entire left side of the fireteam leader's body was charred, his dark brown jacket now black, but he was on his feet, running toward them. The other two had various burns, blackened clothes, and one of them had lost their gauss rifle.

When he saw them, X5-15 stopped and turned back for the door, waving for them to follow. "We must leave. Our signals are being jammed."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nate found himself relieved to see the three of them alive. Not everyone had been killed in the explosion. More than that, the Coursers hadn't. That gave them a fighting chance.

A fighting chance? We don't need a fighting chance…

Do we?

Swinging it open, the Synth ushered them through before slamming it back into place. They dashed down the stairs, Nate mostly in a daze as he was dragged along, half stumbling his way behind Jess.

A few seconds later, the five of them burst through the door onto the first level, unmarred by the incendiaries, and they began sprinting down the hall. As they did, some of the ex-soldier's senses returned to him. Of course, they had to run. Why the hell would he think otherwise? Everyone else was dead. Everyone. Coursers, Synths, Brotherhood soldiers, it didn't matter. Everyone was dead.

The cold, hard fear coalesced into a lead ball in his gut. He'd been right, they were being hunted. If they couldn't get out of the hospital, they were dead too.

Nate didn't want to die. Not here. Not like this.

The terror clutching at his heart, crawling up his throat, threatening to envelop every part of his mind… he'd never felt that before. In his almost two decades serving- he'd never known what it was to be truly afraid.

Running down a hall, the occasional corpse to remind him of the fight that was utterly pointless after everything, he knew what real fear was.

As they weaved through the dark, pressing halls, it felt as though they were running in place. Nate knew they weren't far from any exit, but each step stretched on and on like he had to tick minutes off before he took the next. They were running for their lives, and it was from an enemy that, in a matter of seconds, had eliminated three dozen combatants.

Silence wrapped itself around them, burying the fleeing group in a mountain of-

BOOM.

Another gunshot ripped through the hallway and Nate watched the left side of X5-15's neck explode in a shower of blood. The Courser tumbled to the ground as the other two turned to face their attacker. Nate did as well, but before he could register anything, something massive, hard, and incredibly heavy collided with his chest.

The blow hit harder than whatever he'd been shot with and, as he tumbled backward down the hall, he felt his rifle sling draw taut, and snap.

Nate crashed to the floor, staring up at the broken ceiling, wide-eyed, gasping for breath. Just underneath the pounding of his own heart, the ex-soldier heard another sickening snap as something dropped to the floor with a thud. This time, he couldn't bring himself to sit up; his lungs were on fire, his head felt like it was going to explode, and he couldn't make any sense of the situation.

Everything had gone wrong. Everything. And just like the rest of the Institute and Brotherhood forces, he was about to die there.

Before any other thoughts could tear through his mind, X5-15's face appeared above him. Most of his face did anyway. The skin and muscle were missing from the lower left side of his head, strands and blood hanging from the wound, and the Courser's jaw hung half-open like a bad horror movie.

Except this wasn't a bad horror movie.

The ex-soldier knew he should have been disgusted, but the panic and fury flooding his mind didn't leave room for anything else.

With a loud grunt, the Courser pulled Nate to his feet and ushered him down the hall, away from the sounds of a losing fight. Jess was there, ahead of him, already stumbling forward. They barely reached the next intersection and scrambled into another hall when a loud crash came from behind them, followed by another gunshot.

And Nate knew the other two Coursers were dead.

They weren't going to make it- they were going to die there too.

Keep. Moving.

The ex-soldier did. He kept placing one foot in front of the other, being led along by the only remaining Synth. As the three of them turned down another corridor, the ex-soldier knew they were nearing one of the exits. Their mad dash was almost over, the outside only a dozen seconds away.

But he also felt the world closing in on him. The darkness around them collapsing, coalescing, taking shape. He could feel it reaching out toward him, ready to pull him back away from his salvation just a few more panicked moments away.

He knew they weren't going to make it.

And he was right.

Just as they were about to round the final corner leading to the ER entrance to the hospital, a massive form shot from an adjoining passage and crashed into X5-15. The Courser was sent careening into the wall on the opposite side of the hall with a distinct crunch. Before the Synth could respond, the figure reached out, hauling him to his feet, then lifting him from the ground before bringing the man down over a knee.

The sounds of splintering bone and tearing ligaments were so loud, it was almost like another gunshot. When their attacker released the now dead body, it lolled to the ground, practically broken in two, the only thing holding the sack of shattered bones that used to be X5-15 together, skin and muscle.

That fear- that terror Nate had been feeling, the unbridled panic that had been encroaching on him took form.

The dark, blood-drenched armored form of Damon straightened to his full, immense height, seemingly filling the hallway, looming over Jess and himself. Nate took a shaking step back, staring up into the SPARTAN's impassive golden visor.

And he knew the hunt was over.

Chapter 39: Relief and Terror

A myriad of thoughts raced through Nate's mind as he stood there, in the middle of a crumbling hall, in a dilapidated hospital that had, until a few minutes ago, been a pitched battle, and was now a graveyard. He was petrified, staring up into the impassive, golden visor of someone he called a friend, who was more than likely about to kill him.

That moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely. In the gloom of the destroyed hospital, it felt as though the only source of illumination was that visor. Set against the deep blue, almost black helmet around it, the golden light almost seemed to be floating. Damon was gazing back down at him with the detached air of someone studying an insect waiting to be crushed. Or at least that's how Nate imagined it. As usual, it was impossible to tell what the armored titan was thinking, or what he was going to do.

Eventually, a thought rose to the top. Holy shit. Those two words echoed through his mind over and over again.

Holy shit. Damon was alive. Damon was alive and everyone else, including the Coursers, was dead.

And now he was going to kill Jess and Nate.

His mind flashed back to the Glowing Sea when that Deathclaw was bearing down on him, claws extended, fangs bared, ready to tear him to pieces.

This was an order of magnitude worse. The SPARTAN's awful, looming presence, especially after what he'd just seen… he understood what the people he used to attack must have felt like. Helpless didn't even begin to describe it.

Relief and excitement somehow found their way into the deluge of panicked terror swirling through the ex-soldier.

Damon was alive. He didn't get the SPARTAN killed! Even if he was about to die, at the very least that was one mistake he could die knowing didn't cost a friend his life.

So as he continued staring up at the towering man, he remained still. Not only out of fear but because if Damon had decided to kill him, what right did he have to complain? At the very least, it was a relief to know someone far better equipped to handle the ongoing war was still alive.

But that didn't happen. The armored titan continued standing in the dark, crumbling hall, glaring down at Nate. He had a rifle, but it was resting on its sling. Damon's gauntlets were empty.

"Holy-", the ex-soldier heard Jess begin saying from behind him. The word shot into the silence that had smothered everything for what felt like an hour.

As soon as the quiet was broken, the SPARTAN's head snapped to her and he stepped forward, hands raising-

"No!" Nate shouted, placing himself between Damon and his teammate. The only other living person in the building. Unsurprisingly, the man didn't stop. Instead, he grabbed the ex-soldier's chest plate with one hand and, without any discernible exertion, lifted him out of the way.

Conklin began backpedaling, raising her laser rifle, but the SPARTAN grabbed the muzzle and wrenched the weapon from her hands.

He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her and all Nate could do was dangle uselessly. The ex-soldier grasped Damon's wrist, trying to push himself away, but it was as hopeless as trying to move a mountain.

Casting the weapon aside, Damon reached forward-

The infantryman did the only thing he could think of: swung himself in the massive soldier's grip, kicking his leg up to collide with the underside of Damon's helmet.

By some miracle, the SPARTAN stopped, head snapping back to the smaller man hanging from his grasp.

"Don't hurt her", Nate found the desperation ladened words tumbling from his mouth.

For her part Jess was frozen, eyes wide with terror, her hands raised as if they could ward the SPARTAN off.

Damon didn't say anything, only continued staring his catch down. Nate couldn't see the man's eyes, but he felt them boring into him. The SPARTAN's attention had always come with an odd sort of gravity, but now it felt as though it would crush him.

Without warning, Damon released him and the ex-soldier dropped unceremoniously to the concrete floor.

Aside from the pain, a thought occurred to Nate: if the armored titan was going to kill them, he would have done it by now. At least that's what the infantryman said to try and calm himself.

Struggling to his feet, Nate tried his best to square up to the SPARTAN, but that was hard when Damon towered head and shoulders over him. Now he didn't know what to say though. Damon- his friend- was alive, but it wasn't like he could pretend Shaun hadn't tried to kill him, or that they used the ex-soldier to do it. He couldn't pretend he hadn't been a complete asshat the week before the ambush. Hell, Nate was still trying to process what had happened.

Eventually the silence, and Damon's oppressive stare, grated on the ex-soldier enough, he had to say something. "Wh- what the hell is going on here?"

The SPARTAN's only response was to continue drilling his gaze into the smaller man, almost as if he thought he could drive his thoughts into Nate by sheer force of will.

As far as the ex-soldier knew, neither of them was telepathic.

"Damon- Damon look, I'm not gonna say something stupid like 'I know you're mad', but it would be really helpful if you said something. What the hell is going on?"

After another short silence, Nate's hopes of at least drawing a response out of the towering man wanning, he finally spoke.

"I was killing people."

Telling whether the SPARTAN was being sarcastic had always been difficult. His low, hoarse voice was always dry, and usually emotionless. Now wasn't an exception. There was no indication of any stress from the fight Damon had just been through. It was another reminder of the… remarkable circumstances that produced him.

Remarkable is one word for it.

Nate cleared his throat. "Believe me, I got that, but that doesn't answer the question. Why did you attack us? Why did you attack the Brotherhood?" How the hell are you here? Where have you been for the past month? But he left those last two unsaid. Better to determine the SPARTAN's mental state, and what he plans to do before taking a trip down memory lane.

"Just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't mean I'm discussing why I'm here."

"… haven't killed you yet…" it was hard to miss that part.

Swallowing hard, the infantryman said, "fair, but you haven't been…" he trailed off. He was about to say "active", but was that really true? The ambushes on the Brotherhood caravans, it was definitely possible for the SPARTAN to do that, especially if he was with the Railroad. It would also explain why the supplies were taken after the attack.

"You haven't attacked the Institute to this point. Were you waiting until I was out here?"

The SPARTAN cocked his head. "What did I just say?" There was something in his tone the ex-soldier hadn't heard before. No, that wasn't right, he had heard it once when they first got to Diamond city. It was the same low, deceptively calm tone that sounded like Nate had a thin sheet of glass protecting him from a hurricane.

But this time that glass had a few cracks in it.

Despite the mounting trepidation with his chances of getting away from the SPARTAN alive, a spike of frustration found its way passed the still present terror. "Well- why are you here then? Why are you talking to me? Why am I alive?" As he said that last one, the ex-soldier winced. Damon was clearly in a… violent mood and he, justifiably, didn't need much excuse to kill Nate.

There was a brief moment of hesitation while the man shifted his weight from one foot to the other. As he did, Nate heard something move behind him.

Damon's head snapped to the noise and, when the ex-soldier glanced back, he saw Jess creeping away from them. He could understand the crawling need to get away from the barely restrained violence radiating from the towering man, but that was going to get them killed. Somehow, Nate's heart jumped even further up into his throat, his eyes widening with horror.

"Stop!", he barked and his teammate froze in place. He could feel the SPARTAN tense, ready to pounce and tear them apart. Nate wasn't sure what was stopping him, but he didn't want to see how far Damon's restraint went. They were balanced on a knife's edge, and falling off meant being butchered.

After several seconds of strenuous, anxiety-filled silence, Nate's heart trying to beat from his chest, the ex-soldier turned to look at Damon once again.

"I don't know what your game plan is, and you're right, you don't have any reason to tell me, but what are you doing right now?" He did his best to clear his throat, but it came out strangled. Best to get this out of the way now. "Are you going to let us leave?"

Damon uncoiled a fraction as Jess stilled. "I haven't decided."

Even if he already suspected it, Nate's heart skipped a beat. His mind began racing, trying to find something to help. If the SPARTAN was still debating whether or not to finish the massacre and kill them too, did that mean he could push him toward the 'don't kill' decision?

Cass and Tommy. The Railroad and the Synths. "You don't have any reason to believe me", the ex-soldier said, and even he could hear the pleading in his voice, "but if you want the Institute to change, I need to get back there." The armored titan cocked his head again, and Nate knew he at least had his attention. "Li is the one who has been helping Synths escape. Before… before the ambush, she was trying to recruit you to help. After… I realized what I did, I decided to figure out why Shaun wanted you dead, which led me to her. Now I'm working with her and her people." He motioned to his teammate. "Jess is one of them."

"Personalizing her doesn't change anything", the SPARTAN said, motioning to the ARD scientist, his voice still ice cold. "Leaving you two alive-"

"Is a risk", Nate finished for him. "I did spend almost two months straight with you. That hasn't changed."

Damon fell silent again, and the ex-soldier could feel the fire in the man's eyes burning through his head from behind that omnipresent golden visor. This wasn't the same rage as when the SPARTAN almost lost it with Virgil; this was a cold and calculating fury, one Nate had no trouble imagining preceded many dead people.

"And you still tried to kill me."

The words dropped like lead from the otherworldly soldier's mouth, crashing to the floor with such force, Nate felt the shockwave hit him in the chest. He was right, of course, and the infantryman had spent the last month constantly berating himself for it. He'd betrayed the only person he could rely on, but now he was here, towering over him, he was terrified the SPARTAN would kill him. Relieved and terrified.

"You're right", Nate said. "I tried to rationalize it at first as Shaun taking advantage of me, using me to take you out of the picture, but that's a lie. I let myself fall for it."

"You didn't know?" Incredulity finally broke Damon's emotionless streak, but that didn't help. If anything, his voice was even frostier. "That doesn't make you innocent, it just makes you stupid."

The ex-soldier shrugged. "Again, I can't disagree." Saying 'sorry' would have been worse than useless. Damon was pissed, but he wasn't murderous, at least not anymore. That probably would have flipped the switch right back to 'kill' and Nate didn't know if it would come back off next time.

This conversation could go three ways from here. First, Nate could say something stupid and get both Jess and himself killed. Second, he could talk his way out of this and they return to the Institute. Third, he could try to convince Damon to help. The ex-soldier wanted the third, he wanted to have the SPARTAN on his side again, watching his back, helping him fix the Institute and win this war. But that would be a fantastic way to wind up in option one again. Maybe he could hedge his bets? Damon knew Nate well, and trying to lie here would be a mistake.

Then just tell him the truth and let the chips fall where they may. He deserves the consideration here, not me.

"Damon, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes, you can keep me as your hostage until you're satisfied", the ex-soldier motioned at Jess, "but please let her go."

"Reinforcements would do about as well as your last forces."

"Believe me, I know." Nate shook his head. "I just- you deserve the truth, but I won't put someone under my command at risk."

The SPARTAN scoffed- he actually scoffed at that. Maybe they weren't in such dire straights after all.

"You think anything you say can influence whether I kill you or not?"

"I…" Nate trailed off. Was he still trying to control the situation, control Damon? If the SPARTAN was going to kill them, did he have any control over that? The answer should have been obvious from the start. "No- I guess I did but…" A small smirk flashed across the ex-soldier's face as his eyes dropped to the cracked concrete floor. "Maybe I don't know how to learn."

Silence bloomed once again, the three of them standing in the hall, Jess and Nate still at the mercy of the SPARTAN looming in the dark hallway.

"Against my better judgment, I'm not going to kill you", Damon said, his voice thawing ever so slightly.

Cocking an eyebrow, Nate looked back up to meet his gaze. "Better judgment?"

"You're the only ones who know I'm still alive."

The ex-soldier wanted to ask why, but the question wouldn't get him anywhere. They were going to live, that's what matters. For now.

There was one thing he needed to say.

"I… appreciate that- Damon, I won't say 'I'm sorry', you don't need to hear that from me, but things haven't changed. I lost it after finding Shaun, after finding out what was happening. That isn't an excuse though. If you're interested, I still want to help you get back to your universe. The Institute needs to change for that to happen though."

"Help", Damon said slowly. "You want my help."

"Of course I want your help. That doesn't mean you should give it to me, or I have the right to ask for it, but I think you know I'd want it." Nate shrugged.

A huff came from the towering man's helmet. "You have a lot of balls."

Shaking his head, Nate replied, "no, just not many options. Not many people I trust."

"Your trust isn't the issue."

There was no arguing with that.

"And I wouldn't ask for yours, I'm not that stupid. All I want is to do the right thing." That's something they both knew Damon was trying to figure out.

After a short pause, the SPARTAN cocked his head again. "If you're asking for my help, you're asking me to trust you're going to do the right thing. That almost got me killed."

The image of the armored giant's strange, futuristic shields flaring as he was pounded by gauss rifles flashed through his mind. "I- it isn't my plan."

"Li."

Nate nodded.

"She isn't the one asking for my help."

"No, but she would. I don't know anyone who wouldn't", the smaller man said, shrugging.

"Your son."

He winced. "Fair."

"You want my help to change the Institute." Nate nodded. "Do you remember what I told you?"

The infantryman nodded again. "It isn't going to change. So, what, you're just going to blow it up? Destroy everything they've made that, in the right hands, could save people?"

"And whose hands would those be?" the SPARTAN asked, heat creeping into the edge of his voice. "Most people think they're the right one to handle dangerous technology. Look at what happens."

Speaking from experience.

"I don't know yet, but we both know the hands it's currently in are the wrong ones."

Damon paused, and Nate got the distinct impression his eyes were searching the ex-soldier. "You're telling me you want to remove Shaun." The incredulity was back.

Even so, Nate nodded. "Yes. This is a chance to fix things, to make a real difference. I spent 20 years in the military without changing a goddamn thing."

That was something the ex-soldier knew his friend could relate to. The SPARTAN had infinitely more individual impact than Nate, but the way he talked about his past, it was easy to see he didn't look at it that way. He was just another weapon in the holster. Hell, he'd told Nate he wanted to help the people here.

The armored titan looked back and forth between Nate and Jess, and he knew Damon well enough to know something was going through his mind. Something the ex-soldier probably wouldn't like. After a few moments of silence, whatever decision Damon had to make was made.

"Your opsec still sucks, and tracking you is easy. If you were fighting any real army, you'd have lost by now. The Brotherhood has figured out how to intercept your comms, encrypt them. I assume you already know they can trace Relay signals which is why you've begun moving in smaller groups. You'll need to do more." The massive figure fixed Nate in his stare once more. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, but don't mistake my intent; the only reason I am is that I've got other plans in mind."

Damon stepped forward, crowding the ex-soldier. With the immense form of the SPARTAN directly in front of him, Nate felt like a child. "If I find you attacked anyone but the Brotherhood", he said, voice low and cold once more, "I will burn your goddamn world down. Don't test to see who can fight dirtier. And if I see you again, you die first." He looked at Jess. "Either of you."

With that, the giant of a man stepped away and began walking down the hall, casually stepping over the sack of shattered bones that had been X5-15. With both of them disarmed, the SPARTAN didn't even give them the courtesy of looking back. They all knew neither he nor Jess was a threat, and they weren't dumb enough to try something now, after being granted a reprieve.

As the ex-soldier watched his friend disappear into the gloom, a massive wave of relief rushed over him. It was from so many different directions, for so many different reasons, he wasn't sure what to process first.

Damon was alive. That was so relieving, Nate wanted to cry. But it brought along a mountain of dread. Damon was alive, and he was coming after the Institute. That put Nate on a clock; he only had so long to fix things before the SPARTAN did burn everything to the ground.

Then there was the relief they weren't alone in this war. Damon wasn't on their side, per se, but he still seemed to hate the Brotherhood more than the Institute. Why that was, Nate didn't know, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Finally, of course, he was still alive, and that realization turned his legs to jelly. Dropping to the crumbling, cracked concrete floor, the infantryman almost sobbed as the fear and panic he'd held back were washed away. He was alive, Jess was alive. They'd faced down what was probably the closest incarnation to death this world had and walked away. Even if that was only because Damon had decided against killing them, a consideration he said they wouldn't get a second time.

But the Synths, Grant… Damon killed Grant.

Jess was likewise slumped to the floor, propping herself up against the wall beside her.

"What the hell just happened?" she muttered. Her shock mirrored his own.

Nate wanted to say they got lucky, but even with his mind half-melted, he knew that wasn't the case. Damon had half a dozen chances to kill them he knew about, and probably a dozen he didn't.

So why were they alive? There had to be a reason, something more than sentimentality.

And had the SPARTAN agreed to help them?

Whatever happened, the ex-soldier didn't think he had the mental capacity to figure it out right then. Most of him was still reeling from the fact Damon was still alive, and that he hadn't killed Nate.

The two of them sat in silence, surrounded by the SPARTAN's latest victims. Nate knew they should get moving, get out of the jammer's signal range, but he needed a moment to think. The instant he returned, it would be question after question for hours on end. Questions he didn't have the answer to.

There was one thing he knew though: despite everything that just happened, Nate felt a piece of him reveling in the fact his friend was still alive. Damon had survived and, no matter what now, Nate was going to do everything he could to help him. That wasn't just because he owed him, and he did, he really did. It was because the SPARTAN was their best chance at not only winning this, but changing things around here.

"Do you think we should get back?" Jess asked, snapping the ex-soldier from his musings.

Note nodded. "Probably." His voice sounded distant. The Institute hadn't sent any more forces once they lost contact, that was good, it was something he'd emphasized. When you don't know the situation, flooding the zone with more people is a great way to get them killed.

The SPARTAN seemed… unsure, but Nate was starting to think that went the opposite direction: his default was to leave at least the ex-soldier alive. Once they were face to face, Damon began doubting that. It said something about how upset he was that he almost ruined his own plans to kill Nate. The only time he'd ever done something like that was with Dr. Virgil and those were… unique circumstances.

Climbing to his feet, he offered Jess a hand. "Come on. There's going to be a lot of questions when we get back."

His teammate still looked shellshocked. It was something the ex-soldier had seen on countless people including himself when faced with high-stress situations. Not only had she almost been killed, but they'd both been completely at Damon's mercy. There's a difference between being killed in combat, and staring your potential death in the face.

Not that it would be anything either of them had to worry about again. Damon said he'd kill them the next time he saw them; Nate wasn't about to call the man a liar.

The two of them left the body-strewn hospital and walked into the late morning sun. Had it really only been a few hours? That battle, and then the confrontation with Damon- it felt like they'd been in there for days.

As soon as they were out of the building, Nate's earpiece popped, and he keyed his radio.

"Isaiah, do you read me?"

There was a brief pause before the analyst's voice came back over their comms.

"Nate? What the hell happened? We lost everyone's transponder signal." His voice was panicked and relieved at the same time. That relieved part would only last a few more minutes.

"Jess and I need transit back, we'll explain then."

"You and Jess… what about everyone else?"

The ex-soldier glanced at Conklin whose eyes were fixed on the cracked asphalt between her feet. The ARD scientist's face told him everything he needed to know: wide, glazed eyes, mouth hanging slightly agape, and completely unfocused. She'd need time to recover. Considering what she'd been through the past 12 hours, that made sense.

"We'll explain when we're back."

"O- okay", Isaiah said. "Standby for transit."

An instant later, the familiar brilliant white light flared into existence, and suddenly they were standing in one of the teleporter bays. The flash barely had time to fade before Jess slumped to the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Nate wasn't far behind; his legs still felt like they were made of jelly, and every muscle from his arms down to his feet was trembling. It wasn't just adrenaline.

A half dozen techs, three of which were medical personnel, were waiting outside in the control room. Porter was one of them.

"Come on", the ex-soldier said quietly, kneeling by Conklin. "Let's get you checked out."

She met his gaze, eyes still glassy and unfocused. "Why?"

"Because we're still alive, and we still have things to do." He helped her to her feet. "We can't let what happened put a stop to that."

His teammate looked around, finally noticing the technicians crowding the small room. "Right… things to do."

No sooner had they exited the transit bay than the medical personnel began accosting them, trying to take them to the infirmary.

Nate backed away. "Take Conklin, I need to talk with everyone first."

One of the techs, Nelson, looked down at his chest plate, eyebrow cocked. It was then the ex-soldier realized his armor had a spiderweb of cracks radiating from where Damon had hit him. Had he not been wearing armor, that blow would have turned his ribcage into mulch.

He suppressed a shudder.

"I'll come by afterward to get checked out. There are more important things right now." The infantryman looked at Porter. This wasn't just because he needed to report what happened. She would no doubt begin poking at him the moment they were alone. He needed time to get his thoughts together before that happened. Nate was in no state to play her mind games.

"Come with me, we need to get everyone now."

The shrink frowned. "They're already waiting. What happened?"

"I'll tell you in the debrief", the ex-soldier replied as he began marching toward the elevator.

He heard Porter's footsteps following him on the steel floor and, as they entered the lift, she turned to him. "Nate. What happened?"

Meeting her gaze would be a bad idea. "I'll tell you in the debrief."

"Damn the debrief Nate, I haven't seen you like this since the attack on the Railroad." To her credit, the concern in her voice sounded genuine.

The same way it had when she talked with him about how he needed to commit to the Institute.

"A lot happened Helen. I'm exhausted, I just lost five squads of Synths, two fireteams of Coursers, Grant, and I'm pretty sure I have a few broken ribs. I don't have the patience or energy to explain things twice."

"What?"

When the ex-soldier glanced her way, Porter's wide eyes and gaping mouth told him all he needed.

"Yeah. So, I'm waiting until we have everyone together before giving my report."

The elevator doors dinged open, admitting them into the central hub which was bustling with activity. Scientists from every division were crossing the large room, going about whatever tasks they'd been assigned, most likely for the war effort. Many were working to get the fusion reactor online, but Nate hadn't asked when that would be finished. It wasn't really his concern anyway.

Without looking back, he exited the elevator and sifted his way through the throng of people toward the conference room. Most got out of his way as he walked. Not only was he in tattered clothes and damaged armor, but the ex-soldier was sure he smelled absolutely awful. Burnt flesh clings to things.

Awaiting them in the large room were Shaun, Li, Ayo, Jackson, and the other usual members of the leadership team. Each of them was wearing a mixture of apprehension and impatience as he entered.

"Care to explain how we just lost 45 units?" Ayo barked before the ex-soldier had the opportunity to stop.

Once he did, he squared up to Ayo, who was maybe half Damon's size and even less intimidating than that. "Why the hell do you think I'm here, Ayo? You weren't the one who just lived through two firefights in 12 hours. If I have to hear a goddamn thing from you, I'm going to put you in the infirmary with Conklin."

The ex-soldier stifled a wince. He was supposed to be on good terms with him and Shaun. That's what Sam sacrificed herself for, after all. After everything that's happened though… not only did the small man seem unimportant, Nate wasn't sure their plans would come to fruition anyway. They had a 7-foot-tall killing machine in the mix now, and his entire motive was to be the monkey wrench thrown into the works.

Taking a deep breath, Nate turned back to the rest of the room. "We have a problem." He almost grimaced, that was both the cheesiest thing he could have said, and the largest understatement he could have made.

"Three, actually. We were unable to recover the target, the Brotherhood attacked us while we were searching…" He trailed off, eyes meeting Li's for a moment. The older woman was watching him with a sharp gaze that he'd only seen a few times before.

No point in drawing things out.

"And Damon is still alive."

No one in the conference room said anything. The only person who looked concerned though was Madison. The rest, including Shaun and Ayo, almost seemed bemused.

"Do none of you realize how important this is?" he asked, eyes shooting from person to person. "Hell, you killed- tried to kill him because you thought he was too significant a threat to let live, even if he was on our side."

"That's before we began learning how to fight this war", the SRD leader said. "We are much better equipped to handle your friend now."

Nate almost laughed. "You can't be that naive. The better trained a fighting force is, the more effective it is, but it's also more predictable." He shook his head. They were getting ahead of themselves. He needed to explain what happened first before getting into any of that. "The Brotherhood was already in the area when we began our search. On top of the Vertibirds they sent, there were ground forces that attacked us at almost exactly the same time. That strike was coordinated. During the fighting, while we were trying to make our exit, Damon detonated incendiary charges on the third floor, wiping out everyone besides myself, Grant, Jess, the Coursers, and a squad of Synths. After that, he finished killing everyone besides Jess and me."

Silence filled the room again and, while Jackson and Isaiah had the good sense to look worried, everyone else didn't seem convinced.

"He ambushed our forces", Weller said. "It appears we need to improve our training and deployment standards then. If we-"

The ex-soldier shook his head again. "You aren't understanding what I'm saying. First, the Brotherhood had significant forces in the area before they were able to track the reinforcements' transit signal. Second, Damon is alive."

"Father", Shaun said, his voice in its normal, impassive mode. "I understand you were close with him, but if we-"

"Shaun, this isn't about my relationship with him. You should be just as worried about the threat he poses to the Institute as you were when you order him killed." The fear in his voice was genuine, but he had to struggle to keep the excitement out of it as well. Whatever the situation, he was still relieved the SPARTAN was alive. Happy about it, even. It opened so many opportunities, but he had to take this one step at a time.

"Actually, you should be more worried about it. You aren't just someone he dislikes anymore; both the Institute and the Brotherhood are on his shitlist now."

Ayo scoffed. "Your friend is a footsoldier, an extremely effective fighting unit. We have those in droves. If need be we can-"

"Holy shit, you all really don't get it." Nate stood back from the table and looked around the room again. "Damon isn't like anyone else we have to fight. He's been trained to kill since he was five, operated on high-risk, solo missions since he was twelve, and not only is he the fastest, strongest, and toughest person anyone in this room has or will ever meet, he might also be the smartest." At least when it comes to fighting. He's definitely lacking elsewhere. That didn't matter though, not right now. "He used to take out what he called 'insurrectionist cells' better equipped than us, better trained than us, and larger than us. He knows how to fight these battles better than everyone here combined."

"We were able to organize an ambush for him once", Brown said, the frown on her face one more of confusion than worry.

Have I really done that bad a job teaching these people?

"Which is why it won't happen again. Tracking down a force is easy, tracking down one person is damn near impossible. Especially if that person has spent their entire life not being found." He looked back at Shaun. "How are we supposed to find Damon? He's in the wind. He's been the one ambushing Brotherhood caravans and stealing their supplies, so he doesn't have a resource base, he won't be connected to anyone, and he knows we'll be looking for him."

It was Shaun's turn to frown. "What about the places he has been? Sanctuary-"

"No." Nate shook his head. "He didn't beat around the bush. He told me he's taking it easy on us, but if we go after anyone besides the Brotherhood, he'll burn everything down."

Weller grunted. "So, what, we're supposed to sit around and wait for him to kill us? That seems like a very bad idea."

"I agree, but I've seen him fight enough to know fighting him with gloves off and time to prepare is a losing battle."

"We also have to consider the fact that he is most likely doing this to wear down the Brotherhood before coming after us", Brown said. "It allows him to fight a war on one front instead of two. If we destroy the Brotherhood before we eliminate him, it will allow him to focus entirely on us." The woman eyed him. "Which will be a problem if he really is as dangerous as you say."

That was a good point, but, if he was being honest with himself, the ex-soldier didn't know what he was supposed to do. What he wanted to do. Possibility after possibility raced through his sleep-addled, beleaguered mind. At some point, he knew he'd have to outright betray Shaun. Damon would make that prospect much more doable. If he could convince the SPARTAN-

No, he couldn't convince Damon of anything. He'd have to bring Li in on this.

Is that the route he wants to take? Align Damon with her people? It would be the easiest, he already has a vested interest in protecting the Railroad-

Stop. This isn't going to be productive.

Taking a moment to rub his eyes, Nate straightened to his full height. "I don't know. All I wanted to do was inform you of what happened, and the new player we have on the field. Feel free to plan on your own, I need to go to the infirmary and get some shut-eye."

Ayo stepped forward. "I do not believe-"

"Justin, I'm really not in the mood right now. If you have an issue, you can bring it up tomorrow. I need time to rest and think." He turned to leave. "Come up with whatever plan you want to try and kill Damon. I'll tell you why it won't work."

Without looking back, he exited the conference room and headed back for the infirmary. As soon as he did, he heard everyone else erupt into talking. He couldn't make anything out, nor did he care to. Damon was back. Even though he wanted to kill them, he hadn't, and now he has to come up with a way to survive whatever the SPARTAN has planned.

More important than that, his friend was back, and he had a chance to make amends for one of his mistakes at least.

A thought occurred to Nate. Damon clearly had his own plans for the Brotherhood and the Institute, which is probably why the SPARTAN had told him what he did. What was he playing at? Why would he want the Institute to be more competent?

That last one was an easy answer, at least: the better equipped the Institute was to fight the Brotherhood, the easier his job would be. It wasn't like he'd given them any insight into advanced tactics; all he did was tell them they needed to do the basics better.

As Nate passed through the commons his mind raced to find a way to get in contact with Damon. It couldn't be him. For as much as the ex-soldier wanted to have a chance to really talk with him, Nate wasn't stupid enough to risk it. Damon had left him alive this time, but he had little doubt he'd catch a bullet the next. Their best bet was through the Railroad, at the very least he'd be watching them. The problem was he wouldn't tie himself to anything. He has the resources to operate on his own, and every incentive to do so.

A few minutes later, the ex-soldier found himself standing in front of his apartment instead of the infirmary. Had his feet carried him back there without him noticing?

… whatever. He needed to sit down.

Sliding the door open, Nate didn't go to the shower like he normally would have. Instead, the former infantryman plopped down on the overstuffed couch.

They need Damon. The splinter group within the Institute was working on a plan to change the practices and goals of the organization, but without some sort of armed presence, that would be very difficult. Open conflict within the Institute wasn't on the cards, that would end in disaster, but the SPARTAN is a fantastic deterrent. And he scares both Shaun and Ayo.

Or at least he should.

On top of that, if they were able to successfully defeat the Brotherhood, and change the Institute, they could help Damon get back to his universe. Hell, they already owed him that much.

There was a knock at his door.

Nate almost jumped from the sofa as the sharp sound exploded into his thoughts. The sudden motion sent pain radiating from his broken ribs, but he stifled the groan that tried to make its way out.

Who the hell…

Standing, he walked to the door and keyed it open. Jess was standing outside, her gear gone, just wearing her black undershirt and cargo pants. Her right hand was wrapped in a hard cast.

"Hey boss", she said, offering a weak smile.

The ex-soldier blinked. "Hey Conklin… what's up?"

Her eyes roamed over him, clearly noting he hadn't removed his splintered chest piece or carrier. "You need to go to the infirmary. Damon messed you up pretty good."

"Oh…" Nate looked down at himself. It was a wonder his armor hadn't shattered altogether. "I just needed time to think."

His teammate nodded. "Yeah." She stood in the doorway, staring at the ground in silence for what seemed like hours

"Do you… want to come in?" the infantryman asked long after the quiet became awkward.

Once she nodded, Nate stepped away from the door and they both sat at the small table.

"I still don't understand what happened", Jess said as she dropped into the chair opposite him. "If Damon wanted you alive, why did he attack in the first place?"

"Trying to figure that one out myself", he replied. "He wanted a message to get back to the Institute, and he wanted us to know he's alive. Other than that… I don't know. All I can think of is he wanted to make sure the people he cares about stay out of the line of fire."

"The Railroad and Sanctuary?"

Nate nodded. "He plans on coming after us once the Brotherhood is gone but… I don't know. I don't know if he knows what he wants at this point."

"That's a little scary", Conklin said, rubbing her face with her good hand.

"Yeah well… It's my fault he's in the position he is. I need to find some way to fix it."

His teammate's eyes shot up to his. "You sure that's a good idea? No offense Nate but don't you think it would be better to not mess with everything here? It didn't work out great the last time Damon was involved."

The jab sent a pang of guilt shooting through the ex-soldier. "I know… What else am I supposed to do though?"

"We need to come up with a plan. Dr. Li filled me in on what you said, you don't think we can beat him, so we need to figure out some way to keep him from, in his words, burning everything down." She shifted in her chair. "That means you and I need to stay out of the way. I don't want to get caught in an ambush by him again."

Ain't that the truth. Nate had been in the middle of ambushes before but that… that was something else entirely. It felt like he was a deer being hunted.

"We need his help."

"He didn't seem too keen on giving it."

Nate huffed. "I wouldn't expect him to be. It took him a long time to figure out how to trust someone, and-" he grimaced, "well the person he trusted the most betrayed him."

Nodding Jess said, "Who does he trust now?"

Cass, Tommy, Sanctuary.

Sanctuary.

The ex-soldier glanced meaningfully around the room before meeting Conklin's gaze. "I don't know, but we need to figure it out." A small smile cracked her lips.

"First though." Nate stood, groaning. Being reminded of his injuries suddenly made them hurt a lot more. "I need to go to the infirmary. My ribcage isn't doing great."

"Your friend has a funny way of showing mercy."

Grimacing, he limped toward the door. "You've seen what happens to the people he doesn't show mercy to."

X

By the time Nate had left the infirmary, his entire torso was wrapped in a gel soft cast that supposedly worked to speed up the healing process, and was antibiotic. He had no clue how something like that would work, but what he did care about is whatever they used for a local anesthetic meant he wasn't damn near writhing in pain.

Despite the armor, Damon had managed to break two ribs and crack three others. That went along with the half dozen contusions and muscle strains.

"Your friend has a funny way of showing mercy."

Well to be fair, if this was the Damon he'd first met, 'mercy' wouldn't have been on the table so the ex-soldier considered himself lucky.

His mind kept flashing back to the image of Grant, and to how he almost killed Jess too. The SPARTAN really did only want to leave Nate alive. Maybe he wanted to give the Institute something and decided the best way to do it was to leave as few survivors as possible.

As he walked back toward his apartment, exhausted, he didn't do himself any favors by trying to delve into the armored titan's mind. Who knows what went on in there, and he had so many potential reasons for leaving Nate alive, it would take far more brainpower than he had to figure out which one fits.

It was around 1730 when he slumped into his bed, but it felt like it could have been early the next morning. Hell, he'd been through two massive fights in the previous 18 hours, and had three hours of sleep between them. He was absolutely exhausted, mentally and physically.

Falling asleep didn't help though. He was haunted by the memories of Damon's ambush. First, Nate was downstairs, fighting the Brotherhood when he lit the incendiary charges, burning to a crisp. Then he was back in the hall during the SPARTAN's initial attack, but in Grant's place, getting half of his head blown away. Then during their flight, instead of focusing on the Coursers, his friend crashed into him, breaking his body and sending him slamming into one of the walls. Then Damon was standing before him, Jess crushed, and the towering man reached forward and grasping his neck. Nate felt his bones crumble in the armored titan's grip.

The ex-soldier died in his nightmare over and over again, each time that impassive golden visor was the last thing he saw. Whoever decided to design their armor did a good job. They didn't just design something that worked as protection, they made something people would remember. Something they'd fear. Massive, imposing, impersonal. Then they stuffed it with a supersoldier with questionable sanity and broken morals and told him to kill.

Small wonder Damon turned out the way he did. Massive wonder he was somehow still a decent person.

When Nate finally awoke, he was covered in sweat, breathing just as hard as he was during the ambush. His heart was pounding its way up his throat, and his body was trembling almost uncontrollably.

His broken ribs had slipped his mind but, as he tried to sit up, they reminded him they were still broken with a cascade of sharp lances spearing through his sternum.

With a choked groan, Nate fell back in his bed and stared up at the darkened ceiling. He tried to think of something- anything, but his mind was utterly blank. He didn't want to go back to sleep though. The infantryman didn't want to see any more ways the SPARTAN could have killed him.

So he stayed there, watching the steel ceiling, listening to the gentle hum of air wafting through the vents around him, struggling to control his breathing. After a while, his arms and legs stopped trembling, his heartbeat calmed, and most of the cold sweat soaking him dried.

He had to wonder what it was like for Damon's targets back in his universe. If they were a few hundred strong instead of a few dozen. Knowing someone was there, wiping your comrades out, but no idea who or what was doing it… That would have been terrifying.

An understatement if ever there was one.

Eventually, the ex-soldier forced himself to look at the clock beside his bed. 0330. He'd been asleep for 10 hours.

And I could probably do another 10.

That would have been a bad idea; he had no interest in seeing anything else his imagination had to offer.

Instead, he rolled sideways and slipped out of bed, careful to avoid aggravating his injured ribs again. It wasn't the first time they'd been broken, but it was the first time so many had been broken at once.

Thanks for that, Damon.

He shuffled to the bathroom and started the shower, turning it up almost to the point it burned, slipped his pants off, and stepped in.

As the near scalding water washed over him, his mind began uncoiling. The conversation he had with Jess replayed itself and, after a few moments' consideration, Nate decided she was right. They need a plan, one that was better thought out than most of his. Something that was thought further ahead than most of his. For as much as the SPARTAN could help, he also complicated things. Nate knew from experience now, with a situation this complex, he needed someone better versed in that sort of planning than himself.

They'd become more conservative with their private meetings since Nate had joined Ayo and Shaun's good graces, but now wasn't the time to be timid about it. They needed to come up with a plan, and Ayo and Shaun thought they could just kill Damon at their convenience.

How the hell did they think that? It made no sense. They win a few hit-and-run fights against the Brotherhood, and suddenly they're ready to take on one of the best warriors a society stuck in a genocidal war for three decades has to offer? Do they just think throwing numbers at the problem is going to solve it? If you can't track, pin down, or ambush a target like Damon, numbers don't mean a goddamn thing. The armored titan will just send more of them back horizontally.

Dunning-Kruger Effect.

No, this needs to be planned out by the splinter group. They may not have a better answer for fighting Damon, but they do have a better answer for allying with him.

The Railroad is going to be helpful, but Nate could think of one other way. They should talk it through first because it could put Sanctuary at risk.

And if they put Sanctuary at risk, they could kiss any communication attempts, and their own asses, goodbye.

Problem was, no one would be up for another few hours, and the thought of running on the treadmill with broken ribs might have been more terrifying than Damon. So what to do until he could track down Li?

An idea came to mind, and while she might be irritated, it seemed like the right thing to do.

After what was probably the longest shower Nate had taken in 20 years, he shut the water off, dried, and got dressed. Exiting his apartment, the ex-soldier began toward Jess's.

To Nate's surprise, his teammate was already awake when he knocked on her door in the main living quarters. It slid open to reveal her likewise dressed, and wearing a tired frown.

"You too?"

Nate nodded. "You want to come with me? I thought we'd…" he took a deep breath. "I thought we'd get a drink for Grant. Just the two of us."

A moment's hesitation followed as Conklin continued frowning at him. He didn't know if she'd want to do it. Maybe she just needed some time alone. The fight was barely 18 hours ago.

"Sure", she said eventually, stepping out of her room and keying the door shut.

The two of them walked to the commons in silence. It wasn't stilted or awkward, in fact, it was one Nate had shared with plenty of his brothers and sisters in arms over the years. It was quiet understanding, a connection that came from surviving traumatic events together. Cook, Dupree, Beckett, Sampson… Damon. Nothing needed to be said. Both he and Jess knew the other was thinking the same thing.

When they reached the empty hub, it was still darkened, simulating the nighttime sky that existed somewhere beyond this world, tucked safely away from the horrors of the Commonwealth. The best they could find in the cafeteria was fruit juice. It would do.

They sat at a table, each staring down at their chosen drink, his was grape, hers was pomegranate.

"Nate…" Jess said slowly and so quiet he almost missed it. "Damon killed Grant."

He looked up to see her already staring at him. "I know." The ex-soldier realized it was something he'd avoided thinking about, but it was the truth. Damon hadn't just killed Brotherhood, he'd killed Synths, who they were trying to help.

And he'd killed Grant. The SPARTAN would have killed Jess too if Nate hadn't stopped him. The ambush was a… shocking reminder of how easy it was for him to kill, both psychologically and physically.

Who was Nate kidding though, that wasn't unique to the armored titan. At least not the mentality. He knew plenty of regulars who were the same way. It would be a lie if the ex-soldier said he didn't have his moments too. Damon carried what he is with him everywhere he went. He understood who and what he is better than anyone else, but he still tried to do the right thing. For the most part.

Despite that… it was still Grant the SPARTAN had killed. It was still someone who, not only was he under Nate's command, he was a good man, and a friend. Damon shot him without an ounce of remorse. Someone who would have been on his side, had they known he was still alive.

"I know", Nate repeated, taking a sip of his overly sweet drink. "I- I can't apologize for that." He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. They couldn't take revenge for his death. It wasn't just because it would end with a lot more bodies, most likely none of them Damon's. It's because they need the big bastard.

Even if a small part of the ex-soldier resented him for what he'd done, he couldn't blame it on him, not entirely.

What if I'd been smart enough to see what Ayo and Shaun were doing?

"If you need to blame someone, blame me."

Jess's cup hit the steel table hard enough the sound made Nate jump. It echoed around the still empty cavernous hub. "Don't give me that bullshit", she said, voice tight. When the ex-soldier met her gaze, fire had replaced the tiredness in her eyes. "I couldn't sleep. I had… nightmares about your friend and what he did. When I woke up I couldn't help thinking 'what if he was on our side?' Like you said yesterday… this morning?" She frowned at him in confusion.

"Yesterday", the ex-soldier said with a nod.

"Like you said yesterday: we need his help. We both know yesterday wouldn't have happened if things had been handled right. You wouldn't have been in the position you were." Her eyes were hard and her jaw was set. The young woman looked pissed. "You've moped around for the last month. Damon was right, you fucked up, but I don't think that makes you guilty."

I wouldn't have been in the position I was if things had been handled right? By Shaun? Did she mean if he hadn't organized that ambush? If he hadn't tried to kill Damon? If he hadn't turned their best weapon against them?

No- not weapon. Damon isn't a weapon. Not to me. Enough people treat him like a weapon, he doesn't need me to.

The ex-soldier allowed himself a small smile. "You're right… I- I shouldn't have let it happen, but I'm not the one who pulled the trigger."

Jess nodded curtly. "You need to stop with this 'woe is me' crap." Her expression softened. "You don't need to take the blame for everything."

You don't need to take the blame for everything.

That was… novel. It was also the first time he's heard that since… since Nora.

Sitting in the living room across from her, Nate was fidgeting as Nora glared at him.

"Why?" she asked, voice hard.

"Because those are my orders." It was the wrong answer, and he knew it, but it was the only answer he could give.

"Oh come on, Nate. You and I both know that's bull, so tell me the real reason."

He didn't say anything. She knew him well enough, she knew the reason. Nora just wanted him to say it, to admit it to himself. He knew he would, eventually.

"I've got all goddamn night", his wife continued. "I put Margret on hold until tomorrow."

"You already know what I'm going to say", the soldier said quietly.

Nora threw her hands up. "That's right, I do. You do too. It's the same reason you kept turning down reassignment, why you kept turning down promotions. Why you turned down officer school." She continued glaring at him as the tense silence fell back over the room. Nate didn't know why he did this. She was better at it than him; she was more patient, and she was much better at pulling things out of people.

"Andy is my friend too", she said, "hell I probably spend as much time with Miranda as you do him, but what's happened isn't your fault."

"I know", Nate said, nodding.

"Clearly you don't! If you did, you'd stay here with him. You wouldn't be going back there before you've recovered completely."

That knife drove deep into the soldier's chest.

She was right. She was always right.

"Tell me why you're going back, Nate."

He sheepishly met her gaze. "Because I don't want to let anyone else down."

Nora's jaw set and her eyes drilled into him with an intensity he'd only seen a few times. "I dare you to say that to Miranda or Andy."

Even on one leg, if he did, Cook would whoop his ass so bad he'd end up in the hospital bed next to him.

And Nora would help.

"You need to stop treating everything like it's your responsibility", she continued, exasperated. "You act like everything that happens is your fault. Like you constantly need to make up for shortcomings you don't have."

But I don't know what else to do.

He didn't say that though. Both because he knew it was a lie, and because it would only upset her more. He knew what he could do to make things better, he was just too afraid to do them.

"I took the afternoon off", Nora said. "We're going to see Andy."

Nate took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The ex-soldier's mind jumped back to the present, where Jess was still glaring at him angrily. "I know. Sometimes… sometimes it's hard." He took another drink. "But this one's more personal for me. Damon-" How the hell was he supposed to explain that? "Damon is one of the strongest people I've ever met, but he's also 19 and going through a lot. He needed help and I wasn't there for him when I should have been. After he went out of his way to do something for me I threw it in his face, and, when he did the right thing at the Railroad, when I was too scared to, I betrayed him. I- I didn't think he'd be ambushed, but I should have known. Even if I didn't plan it, how I acted made that outcome a reality."

He fell silent. His teammate's eyes were still locked on his with that same intensity Nora had.

"But you're right, I can't take full responsibility for this."

After another few silent seconds of glaring, Jess's eyes softened. "I understand you care about him- hearing he's 19 is… surprising- but if you want to help him, you can't sit around beating yourself up about it. Nut up and figure it out."

Nate smiled again. "Thanks, Conklin."

She nodded and raised her glass. "To Grant."

"To Grant", the ex-soldier said, raising his glass as well.

Notes:

Well then… that happened. I definitely find it appropriate I happened to be listening to Bob Dylan's Masters of War as I write this. So this was, in my mind, a fairly standard storytelling mechanism, so why did I do it? Well, I'm not going to explain all of it, because that's what the story is here for, but suffice to say, it wasn't just an excuse to write from someone else's perspective. In fact, that was the last reason, really. My first draft actually had Damon's absence only lasting a chapter and a half. So why did it end up 7? Because that's how things go sometimes. Anyway, leave a comment if you're so inclined, and I'll see everyone next week!

Chapter 40

Notes:

Hello! We're back! And it's another episode of The Insanity of an Internet Person's Brain! Now, we're still with Nate and there's a good reason for that: the Institute's story became a bit more complicated than I originally thought it might, but that's okay. I've very much enjoyed writing these last 10 chapters, and I'm excited for what's to come. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Nate shared a long, quiet morning with Jess. It was an hour or so before anyone else showed up in the cafeteria, and even when someone did exit onto the landing, they kept their distance. It wasn't a surprise word had gotten around the Institute by then; if the ex-soldier had learned anything about it, besides the obvious, it was people liked gossiping. He supposed it made sense considering they were stuck in an underground bunker their entire lives.

Had word gotten around it was Damon who attacked them though? It didn't really matter, did it? No one here besides Nate and maybe Conklin would want to ally with the SPARTAN. Hopefully, they could get Li on their side. To everyone else, the walking nightmare was another enemy coming after the Institute. That seemed pretty common for them. It must have been a sad existence, to know everyone wanted you dead.

Not that Nate could blame the wastelanders for that. The Institute was their boogeyman for a reason.

The two of them took the better part of another hour to finish nursing their glasses. By then, the commons was buzzing with activity, and their silent companionship was gone.

"Shaun and Ayo are probably going to want to talk with me", the ex-soldier mused, examining his empty cup more intently than it ever needed to be. It wasn't going to be a fun conversation. They'd be trying to plan the SPARTAN's death, again, and he'd have to play along, at least to an extent.

"Yep… I don't envy you for that one." Conklin pushed herself away from the table and stood. "I never got a chance to file a full report. We need to figure out some way to add Damon to the simulator."

Nate snorted. "Good luck with that."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You can't help?"

"Maybe. I never asked to carefully study his physical capabilities while we traipsed across the Commonwealth."

"Yeah", she said, "I suppose not."

Standing, the ex-soldier nodded. "I'll see you this afternoon."

"Yep."

With that, the two of them parted ways, Nate heading for his son's office, Jess for the Advanced Research Division. Climbing the stairs to the large, sparsely adorned office felt… odd. It was both easier, knowing regardless of what happened to him now, there was someone out there to finish things, and harder, because he had another conflict to play two sides of.

They would, undoubtedly, want to kill Damon. Problem was Nate had no idea where to begin. And if he didn't, they sure as hell wouldn't.

"Father", Shaun said as he keyed the steel sliding door to the office open. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Oh just great, rib cage caved in, lost a squadmate, best friend tried to kill me… couldn't be better." Nate didn't mean for that to come out as bitter as it did.

"I see", the Institute leader said, voice carefully neutral as always. "Dr. Ayo will be joining us shortly, however, I wanted to go over a few things before he arrived."

The ex-soldier gently lowered himself into one of the chairs in front of Shaun's desk, wincing as his sternum throbbed in pain. "Shoot."

"You stated we would be unable to track Damon down yesterday." He frowned. "I understand you were in a difficult position, both physically and emotionally, and I would like to know if you still believe that."

Did he still believe that? "My emotions weren't running the show yesterday", Nate retorted. It was… at least partially true. "But to answer your question, yes, I still believe that."

"Care to expand on why?"

"Where would you start looking?"

Shaun's frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"It isn't a trick question. Where would you start looking if you wanted to find him?"

"I believe our best method would be to track all Brotherhood caravans and wait for another to be ambushed. If Damon was truly the one attacking them, it would lead us to him."

That was a little better than the answer Nate was expecting, but it still wasn't a good one. "And he would know that. There have been, what, 14 or 15 attacks on caravans in the past month we weren't responsible for, all stripped of their supplies. He doesn't need any more. On top of that, he knows that's a likely way for us to find him."

"Do you believe he has thought that far ahead?" the Institute leader asked. "Do you believe he waited until he had the supplies he deemed necessary before revealing himself again?"

It was Nate's turn to frown. "I… hadn't thought of it like that but yeah, that would make sense."

"So you believe he will not be engaging in any more supply raids."

"I don't know", the ex-soldier shrugged, "but if he does, they will be for a very good reason, and we can't take them at face value. We don't know what game he's playing yet, so jumping on one with the hopes of ambushing him would be a good way to get our asses kicked again."

Shaun nodded. "That is a reasonable conclusion. So you believe, if we are to attempt to engage him in this manner, we would need to determine his motives, which will help us deduce how he will attack."

It… wasn't that simple, but they could start there. "Yes", Nate replied.

"How do you propose we go about doing that?"

"I think we need time. I'm not in his head, so I don't know for sure, but I don't think Damon knows what his motives are yet. It seemed like he was just operating on instincts, doing what he was trained to… Or maybe I'm way off base and he's working a long game." Nate shrugged again. "I had ten minutes to talk to him and most of those were spent trying not to shit myself."

The white-haired man nodded. "So we need more information."

"Yes."

Footsteps pounding up the staircase signaled Ayo's arrival. When the door slid open to admit the small man, he was wearing his usual, mildly irritated frown. It was almost like when he put his black and white coveralls on, that came with the getup.

"Dr. Ayo", Shaun said, "I am glad you could join us. We were just beginning our discussion on how to handle the current situation."

"Do you think it's wise to include your father in these conversations", the SRD leader said as he came to a stop in front of the desk, glaring at Nate. "You and I both know he was upset after the attempt to put the target down the first time. How do we know he will not attempt to subvert our efforts?"

I am going to subvert your efforts, asshat. "He told me the next time he saw me I'd get a bullet in the head", the infantryman retorted. "Seems like a good enough reason to me."

"We are going off of your word. How are we to know you were unaware of his status the entire time? It seems awfully convenient he'd show up and attack right when a vital Synth went missing." The small, bald man smiled razor-thin at the ex-soldier. "We do not know if he was involved in planning that operation."

Planning that operation? Who the fuck do you think you are? Nate shot to his feet, ignoring the sharp lance of pain that shot into his chest.

"I lost a goddamn squad member in that ambush. A squad member Damon killed. Not to mention a few dozen Synths I was responsible for." He jammed a finger in the shorter man's chest. "If you're suggesting I helped plan their deaths, we're gonna be short a division leader very soon."

"No", Ayo replied calmly, shaking his head, "only that you're working with your friend to undermine the Institute-"

"Enough!" Shaun was likewise standing. "This is not productive." He looked at Nate. "Please sit, father, and allow me to handle this." The ex-soldier blinked before turning his eyes back on the man standing in front of him. He tried his best to burn a hole through Ayo's head with his glare.

"Fine", Nate said eventually before taking his seat. His glare never left the SRD leader.

The Institute leader cleared his throat before sitting as well. "Dr. Ayo, I understand your concern, however throwing around spurious accusations will not help our cause. If we wish for this to be a productive conversation, we need to cooperate."

Silence fell over the office as Ayo and Nate stared each other down. Even with his broken ribs, the ex-soldier was certain he could throttle the smaller man. Hell, he'd probably never been in a fight before.

After a few seconds of quiet glares, Ayo relented and sat as well. "So how do you propose we go about eliminating this new threat?"

"We have already ruled out trying to track him from another caravan ambush. If we did find one under attack by Damon, it would be too risky to follow up on it. As my father pointed out, any obvious signs we got about the target would most likely be a trap."

"Agreed", Ayo said, glancing at the ex-soldier. "We are aware of several key groups he is connected to. Going after one of those would be a serviceable option."

Nate scoffed. "Did you not hear what I said last night? We do that and things get very bad very fast."

"How so?" the SRD leader retorted, eyes locked onto Nate's once more. "Are you really so scared of this man you're willing to allow him to operate carte blanche because he told you he would come after us? How would he attack us? Our Molecular Relay is far more secure than it was when you and the Brotherhood infiltrated our facility, and there is no other way in."

"I don't know", Nate hissed. "That's why I'm saying we need to take it slow. I don't know what Damon is planning, what resources he has access to, or what he's capable of when he puts his mind to it. Every fight I've ever been in with him was in the moment with little or no time to plan. And he's won every single time." Well, not every time. "He's had a month to think about how to do this. Until we know more, trying something stupid like going after Sanctuary would probably be a great way to commit suicide."

Shaun cleared his throat before Ayo could retort. "I am in agreement with my father. Instead of focusing on how to eliminate the threat, we need to treat this as if it were a complex topic and we are searching for a solution." The older man stood and turned to the wall-to-wall window overlooking the hub. "We have prided ourselves on solving problems, innovating new technologies, and constructing machinery beyond the dreams of even those before the bombs fell. Every endeavor starts with gathering information. Without that information, we are working in the dark, and our solution will be the wrong one." The Institute leader looked back at Nate and Ayo. "If we come up with the wrong solution this time, it means the end of the Institute, either at the hands of the Brotherhood or Damon."

The speech was a little preachy for Nate's taste, but it made sense.

And it gave him an angle to play for time.

Nodding his agreement, he half feigned a thoughtful frown. "We need information, but more than that, we need time. Damon is mostly focused on the Brotherhood, for now. That means they not only have us to deal with, but they have to fight him as well." The ex-soldier glanced at Ayo. "And I can tell you, they're more scared of him than they are of us. That means the more he disrupts their operations, the easier things will be. Our current goal needs to be to figure out a way to fight him before he does enough damage to the Brotherhood they're no longer a major threat. That's when he's going to come after us."

Ayo looked decidedly unconvinced. "You expect me to believe the Brotherhood, who came here with the explicit goal of eliminating us, are more scared of one man than the Institute."

"You didn't see what he did to them in Diamond City."

"You are correct, I did not. However, he is only one man. I do not believe we should place that much faith on his interference."

What was the best way to approach this? If he pushed too far, they might suspect something was up, but if he didn't impress Ayo with how dangerous Damon could be if they made the wrong move, it wouldn't matter.

"Dr. Ayo… have you ever seen a Deathclaw?"

"I don't see how this is relevant, but yes, I have seen recordings of them."

Nate shook his head. "No, I mean in person. Of course you haven't. They're 15-foot tall lizards with claws the size of your forearm, fast enough to close just about any distance they want, and tough enough to take a .50 cal." He leaned forward in his chair; it may have been a bit melodramatic, but he was going for impact. "Damon took on seven of them. He killed three hand to hand. And that was on a dare. I have no interest in finding out who would win in a fight between him and the Institute until we have a lot more information."

"I still don't-"

"The point is fucking around with Damon is a really, really bad idea. If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right."

"Before we go any further off of our topic", Shaun interrupted, "I believe we all must assume my father is correct about this and Damon is someone we must consider a primary threat, even now."

The SRD leader still didn't look convinced, but he relented. "I understand. So how do you propose we go about overcoming this… obstacle."

"Non-confrontationally", Nate said. "I mean, ideally he would be on our side." He shot glances at both men. "That ship has clearly sailed. He doesn't like either of you, which makes sense considering you tried to kill him."

A sigh so tired and heavy came from the Institute leader, it sounded like he was trying to blow the desk over. "Yes, we understand you believe that was a mistake. We deemed him an imminent threat to the Institute at the time and acted accordingly. I've also made it clear I believe having Damon integrated into our regular operations would have been damaging to the overall goals of the Institute. It is too late to fix that now."

"Yeah… I got that. The point is, for whatever reason, he isn't attacking us yet. We need to keep it that way for as long as possible." The ex-soldier looked at Ayo. "That means no actions against Sanctuary or the Railroad until we figure out how we can fight him."

The two men shared a glance. "The Railroad?" Shaun said. "You would like us to cease operations to find the Railroad?"

"Yeah, that's what Damon said. As far as I know, Cass and Tommy are still with them. I guarantee the fastest way to put us at the top of his shit list is to do something to them."

Ayo scoffed. "Are you sure this is not your own biases playing into your analysis?"

A tense silence fell over the office as Nate turned to meet the smaller man's gaze, eyes on fire again. "You know what Ayo, you're right. If you do anything to those kids, you won't have to worry about Damon. I'll break your goddamn neck before he gets a chance to."

"Enough!" Shaun shouted again. "I have brought the both of you together over the past few weeks to determine two things: the best way to fight this war against the Brotherhood without the noise of a dozen other people and to find this group assisting escaped Synths. Damon is another problem we need to solve and arguing about it is only going to make things more difficult."

Several seconds passed, Nate's eyes still locked on the SRD leader, but he knew his son was right. Besides, at the end of everything, if it went off the way the ex-soldier had a suspicion it might, Damon would probably put a bullet between his eyes anyway.

"Agreed", Nate said. "So we need to figure out what he wants, and we have to do it without me, or Jess, going into the field again. At least not for a while."

He didn't like the prospect of being stuck in the Institute while everyone else was fighting, but getting his head blown off was definitely the less desirable of the two options.

For now.

They spent the next two hours coming up with precisely nothing. The problem was they had nowhere to start, at least nowhere concrete. What did Damon want? Nate had a few ideas, one in particular he thought might be the SPARTAN's motive, but if it was, this exercise didn't matter. If his friend's goal was to take out both the Brotherhood and the Institute, and then use whatever remained from the ashes to help the people of the Commonwealth, they had three options: fight him and lose (the likely outcome), fight him and win (the unlikely outcome), or find some way to ally with him. If they were going to ally with him, it wouldn't be with Shaun or Ayo at the head of the Institute.

And that's where his actual plan came into play. Well… he couldn't really call it a plan, maybe intent. As Jess said, someone else should probably come up with the plan this time.

In the end, they decided the best course of action, for now, was to expand their surveillance network to include any and all settlements to the north of the city. That would mean they could more easily track Brotherhood supply movements, and determine if Damon attacked again. If he did, they needed to be vigilant, and explicitly not attack him if anyone made contact.

On top of that, they needed to develop a way to get around the radio jamming signal the SPARTAN had used. It was pretty obvious that hadn't been the Brotherhood after everything. That's something Shaun would assign to Li.

Nate didn't convey what Damon had told him about their operation security though. That was for two reasons: first, it would hopefully signal to the armored titan he wasn't working for Shaun, at least not in full, and second, the better their opsec was, the harder Nate's job would be. He was sure they'd figure some of it out, but the ex-soldier wanted to keep them at least a little vulnerable.

"Alright", he said as he stood, wincing at the stabbing pain from his ribs. "Jess asked me to help with the new simulations they're working on." He resisted the urge to rub his chest. That would only make things worse. "First I think I'll go back to the infirmary and get a shot of whatever they gave me yesterday."

"They are putting together a simulation for Damon?" Shaun asked.

The ex-soldier nodded and turned to leave.

"I would like to be involved in the supervision of that-"

"Ayo", the infantryman interrupted, stopping just inside the office door. "Do me a favor and stay out of the specifics on this one. You don't trust me, and I don't trust you. There are too many things at play to let egos get in the way." He glanced over his shoulder at Shaun. "Can I ask you to trust me to do the job you gave me to do?"

A short silence followed his question. Nate hated lying like this, it made him feel dirty and conniving. The only reason he could tolerate it now was because of what it was for. No matter what he told himself or anyone else, he wasn't just doing this for the Institute, at least the people in it, or to beat the Brotherhood. He was doing it because he owed Damon his life multiple times over. He was doing it because it was the right thing to do.

"Yes", the white-haired man said eventually. "Please report back any developments."

Nate nodded. "Thank you."

The walk down to the infirmary was painful in more ways than one. His ribs were throbbing with every step he took through the white-washed halls, and he ached to get to the ARD and talk with Li. He needed to find out if there had been any progress in contacting the Institute. As he walked, a terrifying thought occurred to him: what if Damon had already found the Railroad? What if he was guarding them against any potential threat from the Institute. If that was the case, would their away party be at risk?

It was the worst kind of fear, they couldn't do anything about it. If they contacted Jackson's team, it might expose their purpose to the rest of the Institute's leadership, and it might expose them to the Brotherhood or the SPARTAN. All they could do is sit and wait. Especially the ex-soldier since he wasn't fond of being killed.

"Nate", Carter said as the infantryman entered the infirmary. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, but broken ribs do that."

The nurse nodded in agreement. "Hopefully we'll see some progress tomorrow. Are you here for another Cortisone shot?"

Nate nodded.

"Okay, give me a few minutes to prepare one." He strode past the half dozen hospital beds and to a stainless steel cabinet.

"You know", Carter said as he worked, "this new development with Damon, how do you feel about it?"

Alarms in the ex-soldier's head started going off. He didn't let them show though.

"Well… It's complicated. I still like to think of the guy as my friend, but whatever happens, he's going to come after us eventually. That's trouble." He snorted. "Of course, everyone knows at this point, I think that's our fault, but there's nothing we can do about it now."

The nurse glanced up at him with a knowing gaze. "I don't believe that's what you really think."

Now Nate was on the defensive. "Why's that?"

"You forget I saw how upset you were when you woke up." He finished preparing the injection and motioned for the ex-soldier to sit in the chair by the cabinets. "Don't worry. I know most of the people here, especially those leading the war effort, think the only way forward is to kill him. I don't think that's what you think though." Nate sat and pulled his shirt up to reveal the large sleeve wrapped around his chest. "I take my oath very seriously, Nate. I don't agree with what Damon does, especially what he did when he ambushed you. I don't think we should allow him back in the Institute." As he knelt to administer the injection, Carter met the infantryman's eyes. There was an understanding in them. "But he's your friend, and you want to help him. I can't imagine what the two of you went through to get here."

With that, the nurse plunged the needle into a small port on the sleeve. A sharp sting made Nate wince, but he stayed as still as he could while the syringe was in him.

A moment later it was done and Carter stood. "That one should last a bit longer now your ribs have settled, and your body and the sleeve have started the healing process. Your chest will begin to itch tomorrow morning, but there is nothing we can do about that." He smiled apologetically. "It will be very uncomfortable."

Nate grunted. "Thanks for the reassurance."

"I always like to let my patients know what they're in for."

As the ex-soldier stood, he found Carter's eyes again. "I appreciate the understanding. All I want to do is the right thing."

Carter shrugged. "I think that's all most of us want."

I wish I could agree with that. Nate didn't say anything though. Instead, he merely nodded and left for the ARD.

X

"So you believe he can be won over", Li said as they and Jess stood in the makeshift training facility. There wasn't much to it since most of their 'live' training was actually in simulators. They'd essentially repurposed the shooting range to suit their needs.

"Yes", the ex-soldier said, nodding. "It's going to take time, and I don't think I can be the one to do it, but whatever effort we have to put into getting Damon on our side, we need to spend it."

The ARD leader's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure this isn't because you feel guilty over what happened?"

"Of course he does", Conklin interjected, "I don't think he'd be someone we could trust if he didn't. But I can tell you from first-hand experience anyone that who goes up against him is coming back in a body bag. That's the kind of firepower we need on our side."

Nate suppressed a smile. While that was true, it wasn't the entire reason. "We also need him from a logistics and support standpoint. If we have him operating on the outside, escaped Synths and the Railroad would have a much easier time moving around. He can provide recon support, and in a pinch, yes, he's the best fighter on the planet. That's without talking about his experience, and planning." The ex-soldier shrugged. "He's worth more than every Courser we have."

After a few heartbeats of silence, Madison nodded. "I completely agree. If he isn't going to trust you, and I was unable to speak with him enough to gain his trust, we'll have to be a bit more creative."

She fell silent, a thoughtful frown on her face. The relative quiet extended on for seconds, then minutes as she considered… whatever options she had in mind.

It wasn't until a dozen minutes had passed and the ex-soldier was about ready to explode when she finally spoke.

"I believe our best option would be to take advantage of the people he says are off-limits: the Railroad and Sanctuary."

Why is no one taking that threat seriously? The ex-soldier sighed. "We can't-"

"Attack them", Jess said, gazing at the older woman. "But what if we do the opposite? What if we help them in a way Damon would know it was us, but wasn't obvious to anyone else! Madison, that's brilliant!"

The ARD leader nodded. "You're correct. However, as you said, it must be done in a way that doesn't alert anyone else in the Institute, at least not until we've established strong relations between ourselves and Sanctuary."

That made sense. By that point, hopefully, Damon's cooperation would come along with it. It would also mean they could play any suspicions off as the SPARTAN's interference. What would be the best way to help? Intel? It isn't like Sanctuary is going to be fighting this war. Sending Synths there is a great way to put a target on their backs, both from the Institute and Brotherhood.

"Weapons and supplies", Nate said. "Since we're making conventional weapons now, it would be easier to supply them with guns without raising the alarm. We can give them equipment and supplies too."

"Yeah…" Li trailed off, "that seems reasonable. It would have to be carefully controlled, but we could do it."

Conklin smiled. "I like the idea of putting more of our guns in the field. Means we can see how they do against the Brotherhood."

I hope not… The ex-soldier knew that would happen though; the Brotherhood is setting up shop. Eventually, they'll clash with the surrounding settlements.

"Okay… " Nate said, nodding, "I like it. We'll need to find some way to make sure Damon is in contact with the Railroad. Have we had any word back from Jackson yet?"

Li shook her head. "They're due to check in this afternoon."

As long as they were successful in making contact, this could open up even more possibilities. Their conversation with Curie came to mind. Multiple Synths in Sanctuary might be a problem, but if they could send the right one there… it would be a massive help for the settlement. And it might make their intent a bit more obvious to Damon.

"Maybe a Synth finding their way to Sanctuary wouldn't be a bad idea either", the ex-soldier mused."

"No, that's something we can't risk yet", Madison said. "I understand where you're going, the right Synth would be immensely helpful but it would also put Sanctuary in the center of Ayo's attention. That is something we can't risk. This is going to be a very fine line… the supplies themselves won't be the problem. Logistics though."

Jess nodded. "I'll get with Isaiah and Corey, we'll figure something out."

"Good, good. Take your time though; this is something we need to get right the first time."

"We will", Conklin said, already looking like she was ready to bolt from the training center.

"Now I believe there is some 'simulator training' you two should be working on."

Right… that was the reason he'd given Shaun and Ayo for coming down here. "Yeah."

As they left, Li headed for her office while the two of them began toward the other training center, excited energy radiating from Jess. She was walking so quickly Nate struggled to keep up. That was… confusing. A few hours ago, she was still dealing with the fact the SPARTAN had killed Grant. Now she looked downright eager to get his help.

"Hey Conklin", he said quietly as they passed the weapons manufacturing facility, the sound of whirring machinery drifting through the closed door.

She didn't even bother to glance at him. "What's up?"

"Why are you so excited to do this?"

It took a moment for the ex-soldier to realize his teammate had come to a stop. When he turned to look back at her, she had an eyebrow cocked at him.

"What do you mean?"

Nate blinked. "I mean… Damon killed Grant, he almost killed you. You don't know him, and this is a huge risk." The ex-soldier didn't bother mentioning just as much risk came from Damon as the Institute.

Jess didn't answer immediately. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip and stared at Nate, eyes slightly narrowed.

That was an expression he'd seen before, and it generally meant he said something wrong.

"I'm not trying to convince you not to help-"

"Because it's the best way to keep more people from dying", the young woman said before he could finish. "If we go to war with him and the Brotherhood we're going to find ourselves in more ambushes, and worse. I don't need any more nightmares like that. Besides", she shrugged, "you trust him, even after all that. If you think he can help us, I'll see how far this goes."

As she began walking again, Jess shot him a mischievous smile. "What else am I going to do, sit around feeling sorry for myself all day?"

… Low blow…

"No", he said, following her to the simulator facilities, his own sly grin. "But I do wonder, how far have you gotten in developing a simulation for Damon?"

A half dozen technicians were in the large room, all working at a station. None of them so much as spared a glance at the two of them as they entered.

"Not far." Jess stalked over to Kurt who was standing in front of one of the eight VR units ringing the room. It was egg-shaped, with a transparent canopy the user would lay underneath. An array of cathodes attached all over their body and, apparently, transfer impulses to and from the person. Nate didn't have the slightest idea how it worked, but it worked pretty damn well.

"Ready to get started again?" Kurt asked. His voice didn't have its usual energy and when he looked at Nate, it was with no small amount of animosity. It wasn't hard to guess why.

"Yeah", Conklin said, glancing from the ex-soldier to Kurt and back. She seemed to pick up on it as well but apparently decided not to say anything.

Nate couldn't blame the technician for being upset with him, or with the situation. He and Grant were close, and no doubt he'd heard Nate wanted to make amends with Damon. Jess and Li were on board, but Nate hadn't thought about how other people would feel. Even under the best of circumstances, the SPARTAN was difficult to get along with, especially if he didn't trust you. It went beyond that now; Damon had killed someone they'd all been friends with.

One step at a time.

"What have we got so far", the ex-soldier asked, approaching the two.

"Not a whole lot", the tech said, looking back at his terminal. "We know next to nothing about him so we'll need your experience."

They were trying to build a simulation of the armored titan… strategies, tactics, physical abilities. Strategies were… anything and everything, but he always seemed to either go straightforward or completely unexpected. Tactics were much the same. Nate always got the impression he did that for two reasons: there hadn't been much that required in-depth planning, and simple approaches allowed for the most flexibility. So, basically, anything the ex-soldier could dream up, Damon would try it. And probably more too.

Then there were his physical abilities. Even though he'd seen the SPARTAN fight dozens of times, it was hard to pin down exactly what he could do. Hand to hand with a Deathclaw? Check. Hand to hand with the Brotherhood? Check. Hand to hand with regular people? A gruesome check. Firearms? Crack shot didn't do it justice. His strength, speed, and agility were likewise difficult to pin down. The protection that armor provided was… incredible.

"Where the hell am I gonna start?" the ex-soldier muttered.

Kurt frowned. "The beginning would be nice."

The eight of them spent hours working through iteration after iteration, trying to find something that did fighting Damon justice. Jess and Nate were the guinea pigs, but it wasn't much use considering they hadn't fought the SPARTAN per se, they'd just watched everyone else get their asses handed to them.

Rubbing his chest, just beneath the left collar bone, Nate painfully extracted himself from the simulator for the 20th time (at least that's what it seemed like). They'd just finished running a test with Damon's physical capabilities based on a Deathclaw, mostly because they'd run out of ideas.

At first, they tried running simulations of the SPARTAN against pre-programmed fighters. While the techs could dial the simulation up so the armored titan would win every time, it wasn't useful. Combat isn't just about how good your opposition is, it's about how they're that good. If they couldn't simulate Damon's brand of fighting, it didn't matter if they programmed an unbeatable enemy. This was about practice, not getting their asses kicked in virtual reality.

It was after they decided program on program violence wasn't working that they decided to shove Nate and Jess into the simulations. It didn't get much better. In fact, they spent most of their time being brutalized by the fake Damon, but never in a way that felt like the ambush had.

"I have no clue", the ex-soldier grunted. "Maybe." He'd died when a massive fist crashed into his chest. Considering his ribs were already broken, that didn't do him any favors. "It's too… feral."

"Yeah, yeah", Kurt said, huffing. They were all getting annoyed by that point. "I don't have a goddamn clue how we're going to do this."

Booker, an older man sporting black hair shot through with gray and a clean-shaven face, cleared his throat. "Is it possible we're approaching this wrong? We've spent the last three hours attempting to recreate his physical prowess. Clearly, we don't have enough information to do so accurately. Would it be better if we tried something like… using a Courser as our base?"

A Courser as the base?

"No…" Jess said. "The Coursers aren't Damon. Hell, you should have seen what he did to them."

Booker nodded. "I understand, but if instead of trying to model him directly, would it be more conducive to create a live training simulation?"

'Live training simulation' is the phrase they'd coined for simulated live-fire exercises. That meant building an environment and pitting two sides against one another. It was a technology that would have been immensely useful back in Nate's service days.

"How are we going to do that when we can't agree on what he can do?" another tech, Kristin, retorted.

"I think I see where he's going", Kurt interjected. "Like he said, we don't have enough information to get this perfect. What if we start with the Coursers as a base for tactics, increase their physical prowess and protection, and work our way from there." He looked at Nate. "We've tried to build this from scratch for hours, I agree, it's time we try something else."

If it meant he didn't have to go back into another simulation for a while, the ex-solder was all for it.

"Let's try it."

Jess and Kurt exchanged a glance once he answered, and Nate got the feeling he knew why.

As the other set to work, the two crossed the room to his pod. "I need to go meet with Isaiah and Corey", Conklin said quietly. "Can you two play nice while I'm gone?"

"I think we're fine", the ex-soldier replied, eyeing Kurt. "We have a job to do."

The ARD technician nodded sourly. "I agree. Hopefully, this will mean your friend won't kill anyone else."

Jess looked back and forth between the two of them. "Uh-huh. Just don't do anything stupid, okay? I'll be back in an hour or so."

Without waiting for a reply, the young woman left the two of them standing next to each other, surrounded by other techs tapping away at their terminals.

"Kurt", Nate said, "I'm not doing this because I don't care, I'm doing this because it gives us our best chance."

The other man grunted. "Don't treat me like I'm an idiot. You're doing this because you feel bad about Damon being ambushed. You're doing this because you want to make amends. You're doing this because he's your friend."

"That's all true, but I don't want you to think there isn't a benefit for the Institute." The ex-soldier lowered his voice. "And for us. Grant was my friend too, and he died on my watch, regardless of whether or not Damon killed him."

"And yet you still want to bring the man who killed him into our confidences."

Nate nodded. "That's right. I do. He isn't the one who started the shooting, we are." The ex-soldier felt the edge on his voice. Getting upset and starting an argument here would only make things worse. He took a deep breath and continued. "I'm not disregarding your feelings on the matter. We aren't in the military and I don't get to hand out orders carte blanche. Can you think of a better way though?"

There was no immediate response. Instead, Kurt glanced around the room at the other techs, and more specifically, the VR systems. "What do you think we're doing here?"

"No", the ex-soldier replied softly, shaking his head. "Virtual reality training isn't a substitute for the real thing. Who knows, maybe I'm overselling Damon, maybe we can find a way to kill him. In the chance I'm not though, we'd lose a lot more people trying, and our only chance to prevent him from burning the Institute down."

"And if I'm willing to bet you're overselling him?"

Nate shrugged. "Then I guess we'll have to talk about it as a group. This isn't a decision you and I can make on our own."

"Right." Kurt grunted again before stalking back to his workstation.

That could have gone better.

It was another 20 minutes before Booker signaled they were ready for another trial. The ex-soldier slipped back into the bulky apparatus and Kristin attached the multitude of electrodes. A few seconds after the canopy lowered and he closed his eyes, Nate found himself standing in a large warehouse, surrounded by a dozen Synths and X6-88 beside him.

The realism in these simulations still caught him by surprise almost a month after he first used one.

The environment looked like it could have been ripped straight from pre-war Boston. Rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with everything from pallets of food to industrial components blocked off each aisle. It was well lit, clean, and free of the decay that was endemic to the Commonwealth.

Almost immediately, the Synths began spreading out in the aisle they found themselves in, moving in pairs, maintaining overlapping fields of fire. It was good, fundamental squad work. That also meant it was predictable.

As they cleared the aisle, Nate and his Courser companion began moving behind them. They followed along as the lead pair continued pushing toward the far end of the shelves where a concrete wall forced them left or right. If the techs wanted to choose one of the worst environments possible to hunt the SPARTAN, they'd nailed it. Bad sightlines, close quarters, plenty of places to hide or set traps. This would be the absolute last place he'd want to run into Damon.

That's probably why they'd chosen it. If this recreation was going to be faithful to the real thing, this should be a very short engagement. A short engagement that ended with all of them dead.

Perfect. Nate loved dying in these damn things.

Sure enough, as the first pair of Synths rounded the corner, two gunshots sounded from somewhere in the cavernous building. Both dropped to the ground, missing their heads.

That's a good start. The statement was really only half sarcastic.

Now, this was where the difference between a good soldier and the SPARTAN would make itself known. Anyone could wire the retreat, and most people would if they had enough time to plan ahead. What Damon would do is set up a kill box, funneling them into whatever direction he wanted them to go and, most likely, have traps laid there too.

"Engage!" The ex-soldier barked.

No sooner had he said that than three more pairs rushed around the corner firing. Gunshots cascaded from the end of the aisle and there were two thuds as bodies dropped to the concrete floor. But no more after that. The laser fire continued pouring from the other four and, even though he couldn't see where they were shooting, they must have found something. It was a… disappointing development-

Until two more cracks from a large caliber conventional rifle sounded and a third Synth was sent tumbling, two gaping holes in its white chest plate.

Okay, that's a little better.

After one more shot downed a fourth Synth, the ex-soldier waved the last four toward the next aisle over. At the very least, if simulation Damon was playing a dynamic game, that would give those ones the time to divert to another path and avoid traps in this aisle.

It worked, and as Nate and the Courser followed, the last Synth covering fell. That was eight dead in about 20 seconds. This wasn't a bad simulation.

"Alright", the ex-soldier called. "I think we're good here."

An instant later he was laying in the VR pod again, staring up at the semi-transparent canopy.

As it gently raised itself, Nate felt a pang run through his sternum. The shot Carter had given him was still working, but numbing broken ribs was damn near impossible.

"That wasn't bad", he said as he noticed the techs studying him. "It's difficult to tell in an environment like that; any competent fighter would be able to make that a nightmare for any attacking force."

"So what do you propose?" Booker asked.

"I think we need to get a little more creative." There were plenty of options available… Nate's mind flashed back to the first time he'd really gotten to see the SPARTAN fight, the first time he wondered just what got released into this world. Watching Damon massacre the Triggermen to rescue Valentine had been… eye-opening, and it was probably the best look he had at him fighting people.

"Do we have models of any Vaults?"

Vance, another one of the techs, nodded. "Yep, every Vault in the area."

"We broke into Vault 114 which was the Triggermen's hideout. That would be a good one to try."

"Let me see…" Booker said, tapping away at his keyboard. "Yes, that is doable."

Nate slipped out of the VR apparatus. "Great, I'd like to watch this one from the outside." He knows what it looked like on the ground, how quickly Damon had torn through the gangsters. A bird's eye view would make it easier to compare.

"Okay, we don't have a profile for the Triggermen you two fought there but… Gunners would be a good enough substitute." The ex-soldier nodded. "Alright, loading the program now."

Everyone gathered around the large display set against one of the chamber's walls as Booker started the simulation. A top-down grid view of the Vault appeared. The ex-soldier didn't remember much of the layout, but that wasn't important. What was important were the three dozen enemies Damon's simulation would have to fight through. They were spread out around the facility, taking cover in any number of arrangements. It would certainly be a challenging fight for most, which is why this would be a good test for their model. The SPARTAN had spent more time berating Nate than he did killing the Triggermen.

"Commencing simulation", the older man said, and an instant later the icons representing the fighters began moving. Damon's was a yellow triangle, weaving between cover, gunshots shown by small flashes in the direction he was firing. Red highlights were hits.

The first group of targets went down quickly, barely getting a shot off at the simulated SPARTAN. It was effective, but the way it progressed through the environment wasn't quite right. The armored titan made a habit of fighting at a breakneck pace, pushing his physical advantages over his opponents whenever he could. There was a subtle art to his movement that took Nate a while to appreciate though. The best way he could describe it was elegant, brutal efficiency.

This one was fighting closer to a Courser: stealing from cover to cover, taking its time, and minimizing exposure. Yes, Damon used cover effectively, but this model wasn't as aggressive as the SPARTAN.

As far as effectiveness though, it was damn good. Almost every shot was a hit, and almost every hit was a kill. That was on par with Damon, but it wasn't difficult to model. They were looking for how he fought.

Progressing through the program, several of the ambushes seemed to catch the simulation off guard, which was another red flag. It wasn't impossible to get the jump on him, but Damon had shown time and again an eerie ability to sniff out threats. That was something the ex-soldier had no idea how to model.

Overall, the exercise was a success. At least more successful than any of their trials so far. It wasn't as quick, clean, and effective as the SPARTAN, but it was a step forward.

"Good job", Nate said as the simulated attacker finished off the last of the targets. "That was much better. There are some things we need to adjust, but that's the best we've seen."

Booker nodded. "I understand."

As the ex-soldier listed out the changes he wanted, Booker deliberated with a few of the other technicians. Changing the behavior of one of these models wasn't as simple as adjusting a slider. From what Nate could gather, they had to rewrite portions of the program to create a new profile. It was the better part of 15 minutes before they settled on the adjustments, and the program was loaded again.

This time around, Damon's icon moved aggressively, using cover far less than he had the time before. It took a dozen hits before making it past the first engagement. While that probably wouldn't bother the SPARTAN with his armor, it was more than he'd ever seen the man take unless absolutely necessary. That trend continued through the rest of the simulation, and by the time the last target was dispatched this time, he'd been hit so many times, the ex-soldier had to reference the post-simulation data to count the number.

56… that's way too many.

More adjustments needed to be made. The aggression was good, but the tactical awareness and use of cover were way off.

So that's how they spent the next hour, going back and forth with the same set of parameters, adjusting Damon's behavior. It was arduous and boring, especially since Nate wasn't taking part in these simulations, but it was an interesting exercise to see if he could make something that fought like the SPARTAN.

It was on the fifth simulation when Jess returned, waving the ex-soldier away from the group.

"We've gathered a list of supplies we want to use", she whispered, "and Corey is working on a way to divert them from our regular logistics routes. We're still waiting on word back from Jackson's team, but it seems like we will have a good foundation for this."

"What kinds of weapons are we providing?"

"We're going to start small first: 10mm handguns and combat rifles, but we understand this may put the settlement in the firing line for the Brotherhood. We're figuring out how we can get them some heavier weaponry if needed." Conklin frowned. "Same goes for the Railroad. The Brotherhood will want them dead just as badly as they want us gone. They'll need bigger guns."

That was definitely true. They were even more sympathetic to the Synths than the Institute was and, even if they didn't produce them, they were just as involved.

"Agreed. Do we have a timeline?"

Jess shook her head. "We need to make sure we establish contact with the Railroad before we implement anything. The smaller the footprint the better."

Okay… that was one step closer.

"And medicine?"

"Again, the basics." When the ex-soldier cocked an eyebrow, his teammate shrugged. "It will still be a damn sight better than anything they currently have access to. MedX, Radaway, limited Stimpaks, clean medical supplies…" She trailed off, glancing at the group of techs still studying the ongoing simulation. "Isaiah brought up the idea of sending a Synth specialized in survival training. I believe that would be an immeasurable asset to Sanctuary."

He still liked the suggestion, but Li was right and they didn't need to make this any riskier than it already is, at least to start. "I think keeping things limited for now would be a good idea. The more we push early on, the more dangerous things get."

"Slow down", she said, holding a hand up. "It's just an idea for the time being. We're taking this one step at a time, but if we're serious about getting Damon's help, a gesture like that would go a long way to earning it."

Again, he couldn't argue with the logic. Sending a Synth able to help them with everything from combat to medical treatments would be an incredible way to show Damon they genuinely wanted his help. How would they do it though? How would they get a Synth there, letting him know, but keeping everyone else from finding out?

The Railroad.

If they were able to get in touch with the Railroad, and the SPARTAN was keeping tabs on them (a very likely scenario), he would know.

"Okay, we need to be very careful about this."

Jess flashed him a smile. "That's the name of the game around here. We've had to be careful about everything, and that's long before you arrived anyway."

The ex-soldier grunted. It wasn't the first time he'd allowed his… relative inexperience with the splinter group show. They may not be experienced combatants, but they've lived in a world where they have to be careful about everything they do their entire lives. It wasn't fair of him to tell them they needed to be careful with escaped Synths.

"You're right. Sorry."

This time she chuckled quietly. "Don't worry about it boss. We put up with your shit because we like you."

Thanks…

His only response was a deadpan which prompted another chuckle. "So how are things going here?"

Nate glanced back at the group. The simulation was still going, it looked only a few minutes from finishing. "Booker had a good idea we're working off of. Finally making some progress." He looked at her and smirked. "Haven't had to be the guinea pig for a while now which", the ex-soldier resisted the urge to rub his chest, "has been nice."

The simulations didn't cause any physical harm, but they sure as hell felt real.

"That's unfortunate", Jess replied.

The infantryman frowned. "Why?"

"I spent most of the time with Isaiah and Corey enjoying the idea your best friend was killing you over and over again. You ruined that for me." The smile on her face wasn't quite genuine. She hid it well, better than Kurt, but it was obvious she wasn't 100% on board with allying with the SPARTAN.

He really couldn't blame her. Even if most of him didn't blame Damon for killing Grant, there was always that small voice in the back of his head that was squawking at him, telling him the armored titan should be held responsible.

"Good to hear. I enjoy disappointing you."

Conklin's smile turned a little less forced. "I'll try not to get used to it."

It was Nate's turn to chuckle.

The two of them strode back to the group of technicians as Damon's model reached the last room. It was large, maybe a cafeteria, with a half dozen targets taking cover from the SPARTAN's entrance.

They didn't last long. The simulated Damon took out the first one with his first two shots. Three others returned fire and, while the armored titan took a few strikes, he put them down in quick succession. The last two stayed in cover, one blindly firing, and the other seeming to cower behind its perceived safety. They were dealt with in short order as the simulation rushed forward and dispatched them.

While he hadn't seen most of the run, that seemed very Damon-esque.

"I believe we are getting close", Kurt said as he turned back to Nate and Jess. "The model is moving aggressively like you said, but minimizing strikes."

"How about the combat awareness?"

Booker nodded. "That is still something we're working on. It's difficult to balance intuition in this program. From the sounds of it, Damon's experience allowed him to judge where an attack would come from and counter accordingly. Programming that is difficult since the models can only be told to check positions."

"Huh", Jess said, stepping forward, "have you assigned priorities to the positions he needs to clear?"

"Yes, we have", Kristin said, "that is built into the model of a Courser, which is what we are using as our foundation."

"Right…" Conklin trailed off and fell silent, studying the after-action report. It didn't have any information Nate would consider nuanced enough to determine how the model was clearing positions, but if Jess was anything, it was smart. Him not being able to discern that didn't mean she couldn't.

"So we have prioritized positions, I'm guessing the processing speed of the model is faster than a normal person?" Kurt nodded. "And we're still having trouble with an accurate… huh."

They were missing something… target prioritization is good, but it isn't… "I don't think we're approaching this right."

Conklin turned to him, eyebrow cocked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we're thinking about this from a top-down perspective", Nate said. "That isn't how you do things on the ground." He looked at Booker. "Can you rewind to before Damon enters the last room?"

"One moment", Booker said as he turned back to his terminal. The screen began playing backward to the point the SPARTAN's yellow triangle was just outside the large room. Nate studied the enemy positions, looking for anything he would use to defend the room. They all had good hardcover, and each was in view of the door…

"Move to the first gunshot."

The simulation began playing forward until the flash that signaled Damon's first shot came onto screen. He had fired at the enemy to the ten o'clock of the door. By priority, that would have been the first target to take out; their cover was the best. That wasn't who Nate would have shot at first though. That target's view of the door would be obstructed by their cover. The ex-soldier would have shot at the second to last Triggerman the simulation took out.

"Damon would have identified this one", the ex-soldier pointed at what would have been his first target, "as the largest threat."

"How so?" Kristin asked. "It looks like that one was using poor cover, he would have been able to dispatch it at any time."

"Because that target would be in full view of the door. That means it can return fire as readily as Damon can fire at it. If it were me, that would have been the first to go, and give the ones in better cover", he pointed at a few other targets, "a chance to try and engage. Damon is fast enough to recover before they could get their shots off, and he would know that. Most of the time, the faster you can take out your targets, the better."

The woman looked at the screen with a "hmm", frowning thoughtfully.

"That seems like a good idea to try", Kurt said, nodding to the ex-soldier.

Nate smiled. "Good, you guys do that, I'm gonna go get us some food." They'd been in that damn room for most of the day and he was starving. The murmur of approval told him he wasn't the only one.

X

Even after the infantryman returned with what ended up being dinner, considering it was past 1900, they continued working for a few more hours. He was growing more and more concerned as time passed. Why hadn't they heard anything from Jackson's team yet? If he was right, and Damon was watching out for the Railroad… is it possible he ambushed them?

That was a horrifying thought.

No… Damon is smarter than that. He'd know, if the Institute found the Railroad, they'd be sending a lot more than a five-person team.

It was what he told himself anyway. The idea he may kill more of Nate's people, Nate's friends… as much as he wanted the otherworldly soldier's help, as much as he wanted to help him, forgiving him for something like that, even as a misunderstanding would be… impossible.

I've trusted him to this point. I need to trust he won't act without planning.

It wasn't until 2100 that Li entered the large room.

"How are things going here?" she said. As Nate turned to greet her, saw her note the two empty trays sitting on one of the workstations.

"They are coming along fairly well", Booker replied. "Better than I think we expected."

The ARD leader grunted. "It's nice to hear good news for a change."

That didn't sound promising? Had something happened to Jackson? "We were almost done." Nate glanced at the room's other occupants. "Everyone's about ready to call it a day."

"Unfortunately for you or I, 'calling it a day' will have to wait." Li didn't look happy. "Father has called a meeting." She looked at Kurt and Jess. "I will confer with you afterward for field applications of the current form of training simulation. Ayo has decided to begin training our Coursers using Damon's likeness. It would be a good idea to be prepared for the next encounter." The two technicians nodded in agreement. "As for everyone else, please begin preparations to implement the training. I understand it may not be in its final revision, but we still need to be ready."

There was a quiet murmur of ascent, but everyone was tired. They probably just wanted to hit the sack.

Li turned to Nate and motioned to the exit. "Shall we?"

Go to another meeting? "It would be my pleasure."

She smirked as they began toward the conference room. "I see you're as excited for this as I am."

"It's been a long few days. I might sleep in tomorrow."

"Yeah right."

"Hey", Nate said through a sigh. "We can always dream, right?"

"You'd have to sleep for that."

They exchanged a glance.

"Touche."

A brief silence fell between the two of them as they continued through the ARD's mostly empty halls. The ex-soldier wanted to ask, but the fact Li hadn't said anything yet had him worried.

"It's nice to hear good news for a change."

That wasn't a promising thing to say considering Jackson was scheduled to check in today. What if-

"You'll be happy to know Jackson's team was successful."

Nate let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"You could have led with that", the ex-soldier said, shooting her a dramatic frown. "You had me worried."

"Yes well…" she trailed off in a way he'd heard a thousand times before. That was never a good thing. "There were complications."

"... Damon involved complications?"

Li shook her head. "No, more like Raider involved complications." They rounded a corner and headed toward the ARD's exit. "Two of the team were injured, neither fatally. I have little doubt our intelligence report tomorrow will discuss some of this, but it seems they have become more active as well. We've known about a large group in the northwest for some time now. They've been largely content staying out of the city but…"

It wasn't difficult to guess where this was going. "But they've decided to take advantage of the Brotherhood's presence."

"Yes."

Great. That's exactly what we needed.

"Okay, so at least we've got a go-ahead. We'll have to deal with the Raiders as necessary."

"Agreed", Li said with a curt nod.

They had a plan to get Damon on their side and, as a benefit, get better weapons and supplies in the hands of the Railroad and Sanctuary. That was a win in Nate's book. Now they just have to deal with a war, Raiders, Supermutants, Gunners, and who the hell knows what else the Commonwealth has waiting for them. Oh and maintain a supply chain moving out of the Institute while also playing Shaun and Ayo for as long as they could to gather support. Then come up with a plan to depose his son, ideally non-violently, before applying the Institute's considerable resources to getting Damon back to his universe and helping the Commonwealth.

Things have certainly gotten… complicated.

Complicated… oh shit.

Nate lurched to a stop, setting a hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Li, how did Andrew escape?" How had he forgotten about that? Sure, he hadn't had much opportunity to talk with the ARD leader in private, but that was a big fucking deal. "Did we do that?"

Only silence met the ex-soldier as Madison turned to look at him, a grim frown on her face. That told him all he needed to know.

It also told him they were in trouble.

"Who then? The only thing that makes sense is the Brotherhood, but how the hell would they get him out?"

Li shook her head. "I don't know. We don't know. It would have to be someone with knowledge of how we operate, which means whoever did this is most likely within our ranks."

"That's a problem. We can afford to draw that kind of attention." He paused, grimacing. "That's on top of not losing to the Brotherhood because they have someone on the inside."

"A maneuver like that would take multiple people."

Great. "Okay, so we need to limit hardware access to people we can 100% trust."

"Agreed." Li glanced at the exit behind her. "We should keep going. They're already waiting."

Nate nodded. "Right, okay." Dammit.

As they began walking again, the doctor whispered. "I have a few suspicions, but that almost cost us everything. Whoever it is… they're not going to get away with that. They won't ruin everything we've worked for." Her face was neutral.

There was fury in her dark brown eyes though.

Add tracking down saboteurs to the list then.

The few minutes it took to get to the conference room was spent in stiff silence. Li was aggravated, and he couldn't blame her. They needed to find whoever this was and stop them from teleporting anyone else. Maybe they get away with it this time, but whoever had done it would only create a larger and larger risk the longer they're around.

When they arrived, the room was packed full of the usual suspects sans Jackson, along with a few extras, including X6-88.

"Sorry we're late", the ex-soldier said as they stepped through the door.

"Don't worry", Isaiah said, "we're still sorting things out." There were a dozen images spread across the large table in the center of the room. The tech was organizing them by floor, judging by the images of the bodies. The first and second were mostly laser wounds.

The third…

A lump crept up Nate's throat as he saw one of Grant, a large chunk of his head gone.

"We still don't have much information", Brown said. "Damon didn't leave anything to work with."

The ex-soldier had failed his squadmate. But he couldn't figure out how he might have saved him. The SPARTAN had set up a perfect ambush, even going so far as to wait for them to pass through an area for a third time.

"Nate?"

Another tech, Xavier's voice drew him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, I was thinking, what did you ask?"

"Dr. Brown was asking if he said anything that might suggest what he's planning in more detail."

Nate shook his head. "He wants to save us for last, that's all I know."

That was the truth. He had little doubt Damon intended to destroy the Institute. Hopefully, they could keep that from happening.

"That's to be expected", Isaiah said. "There's no reason he would tell us what he's planning."

"It isn't necessarily about what he told us", Brown replied.

What he hadn't said? How he'd said something? What he'd done?

Let's see, he killed everyone, cornered me and Jess, clearly wanted to kill her, but left us both alive because he wanted them to take a message back to the Institute. That message was: I'm alive, stay away from the Railroad and Sanctuary.

"He wants to fight this clean, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered leaving Jess alive, and probably would have injured me. Well, more than he did." What about the way he behaved? "He was pissed about being set up", Nate resisted the urge to glower at Ayo. "That isn't surprising."

Had there been anything else Nate was missing though? Their encounter hadn't been very long and, as usual, the SPARTAN hadn't been all that talkative.

Everyone else was looking at the images Isaiah had spread on the table. Most of the bodies in them were charred almost beyond recognition. Whatever incendiary device Damon used, it had burned hot. Even the Brotherhood's T-60 power armor had been blackened and some partially melted. It wasn't a quick or clean way to kill someone, but the charges had left the hospital's structure intact.

Wait… the only signs the Coursers found of entry-

"Isaiah, do you have images of the… no, never mind", Nate grunted. The signs of entry would have been lost in the fighting. But they'd only found one. That meant either Damon had snuck his way in before Andrew got to the hospital, and the Synth had gone there on his own, or Damon found him and purposely left that trail for them to find.

How would he have known where to be? He had a few hours to prepare, which would be more than enough time to set those charges, but the number he'd have to carry…

"Do we have images of the detonation locations?"

The SRD tech sifted through the pictures he'd laid on the table. "I think… here." He pulled out a dozen images of large, soot-covered craters in walls and floors.

"How large would each of these need to be to fry an entire floor of that hospital?"

Brown walked over and began studying the images. "I… these detonations look like they were by some sort of fuel-air explosive. He must have packed them with an accelerant which resulted in the incendiary effect." She shook her head. "Improvised incendiary bombs like this, they wouldn't be small." Her eyes narrowed and she looked at the ex-soldier. "You're thinking he had prepared for this beforehand. He was planning on ambushing us."

That seemed like the obvious answer but how? How would he have known when and where to set that trap? The Brotherhood were the ones who, somehow, arranged that escape. Unless he was privy to their planning? An operation this sensitive though, Maxson's too smart to let something like this leak outside a very small circle of his most trusted people.

"That doesn't feel right. Damon isn't working with the Brotherhood and, however they did it, this seems like it was their operation."

Ayo grunted. "Then how would you explain this? Unless you believe he would be walking around Boston with this sort of ordinance."

"No…" Nate shook his head. What other possibilities are there? The hospital…

"I find myself in agreement with Nate", Weller said. The scientist was sifting through the images. "Normal military doctrine dictates an ambush like this would be in the most controlled environment possible. This was complete chaos." He began pointing to the groups of pictures. "Fighting on the roof, ground floor up to the third, this was an almost worst-case scenario for this sort of attack." He met the ex-soldier's gaze. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but Damon would have chosen a more controllable position if given the opportunity."

The SPARTAN definitely liked stacking the deck… It was true though, that hospital had been a disaster. Nate wouldn't put it past Damon to do something like this, he had a habit of bucking trends, probably to counter the exact thinking Weller was using. Something about it still felt off though. There were just too many variables for him to control; Damon's intelligent and he can be dangerously cunning, but he's also more prone to direct action.

"Yes." That left two options, both were unlikely, but ruling out the idea this was a planned ambush, Damon either happened across Andrew and he'd already had the hospital wired, or set it up for this purpose, but didn't anticipate more than one party searching for the Synth. In either case, he was playing this passive, waiting for an opportunity to hit them.

"He wasn't actively searching for a chance to attack us", Nate concluded. "This was set up, but not for what happened."

Brown, Weller, Isaiah, and Li all nodded in agreement.

"So what does that tell us?" Ayo asked, for once his voice was less than condescending.

"He's serious about leaving us alone", Li said. "For now."

"Right", Isaiah continued, "if he wasn't, he'd be more active hitting our operations. It appears he has some knowledge of the Molecular Relay and how it works, hence the signal jammer", he tapped another picture. "If he managed to track our teleportation signals the same way the Brotherhood has, he'd be able to attack them too."

And he did. Damon told the ex-soldier that much.

"That means we need to come up with a way to handle this before that changes", Nate said, looking at each person around the table. "And not instigate a change."

That means Li, Nate, and the splinter group have however long that is to make this happen.

This is where things get really hard.

Notes:

This chapter was interesting. I've always had head canon for Damon's capabilities (loosely based on Blue Team in Shadows of Reach, there's just so many inconsistencies in the Halo universe for how strong they are, it's difficult to pin it down), but I've never gone through an exercise like this, writing out what someone would see from their perspective. On top of that, I thought it was really important throughout these chapters to make sure everyone knows what's going on with the Institute as a whole. There are a lot of moving parts to this story now, and because of how I've chosen to write, it can be hard to get a full picture. That's enough rambling though, thanks for reading and I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 41: Disruptions, The Good Kind

Notes:

Top of the morning! This chapter isn't much of a surprise, it's one that's been a long time coming. We're back with Damon. These next few chapters I wrote with a very different intent in mind, but that will make itself clear as you read. Anyway, that's enough talking, leave a comment if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Looking Nate in the eyes again was harder than I thought it would be. Looking Nate in the eyes and not gouging them out was even more difficult. Refraining from putting a round through his head the first time his little band of Synths passed by the alcove I'd been using as cover nigh on painful.

But I've got a plan, and I'll be damned if I've spent the last month sneaking around this bombed-out corpse of a city to waste it because of that bastard.

"I was killing people."

The smaller man's face was already pale, but even in the dim light of the collapsing hall, I could see him tense again.

"Believe me, I got that", he said after clearing his throat, voice trembling, "but that doesn't answer the question. Why did you attack us? Why did you attack the Brotherhood?"

I blinked. Maybe Nate was in shock, but the answer to those questions seemed pretty goddamn obvious.

Even so. "Just because I haven't killed you yet doesn't mean I'm discussing my plans."

"Fair", he replied, nodding slowly, "but you haven't been…" The ex-soldier frowned as if a thought just occurred to him. "You haven't attacked the Institute to this point. Were you waiting until I was out here?"

Well… he was half right on that one. His presence wasn't essential to what I intended to do here, but it did make my plans a little easier. Nate didn't need to know that though. The only things he needs to know right now is I'm alive, and his life is in my hands.

And I'd be lying if I said those hands weren't very close to finishing what they started a month ago.

"What did I just say?"

A hint of his more usual frustration peeked through the wide-eyed fear on his face as he grunted. "Well- why are you here then? Why are you talking to me? Why am I alive?"

You're alive because lucky for you, you're the best person to do what I need. If-

Motion behind the ex-soldier caught my attention. It was his last squadmate slowly backing down the hall. My legs coiled, ready to drive themselves into the ground. She wasn't necessary to keep alive. The only reason I had to this point was… I don't know. She wasn't a threat, but other than that, I didn't have a reason. If she tried to run, that would disappear very quickly.

"Stop!", Nate shouted just before I sprung forward, panic tinging the edge of his voice. At the very least he knew her chances of survival were marginal at best.

The young woman froze mid-step, massive eyes fixed on me, terror pulling every muscle in her body taut. I could almost smell the sickly sweet stench of adrenaline-ladened sweat pouring from her. She wasn't someone I recognized from my brief stay with the Institute, which means this is most likely the first time she's seen me. She was probably wondering if it was the last thing she'd see too.

That was still up for debate.

"I don't know what your game plan is", Nate said, trying his best to keep his tone measured and calm. The hoarse, almost trembling voice said he was failing. "And you're right, you don't have any reason to tell me, but what are you doing right now?" He cleared his throat. "Are you going to let us leave?"

Same shit different day. Not only was he trying to take my attention off his squadmate, but he was also tying her survival to his. Even now the mfer was trying to regain control of the situation.

"I haven't decided yet."

I watched the ex-soldier's Adam's Apple bob as he swallowed, hard. He was still wondering if he'd live past the next few minutes. Good.

"You don't have any reason to believe me, but if you want the Institute to change, I need to get back there." Nate was on the verge of pleading. Change the Institute? Right, like that's going to happen. I haven't seen anything to suggest he's trying to do that.

Despite that though, I cocked my head at him, interested in hearing a little more. He was probably lying, saying anything he could to survive, but how far would he take it?

"Li is the one who has been helping Synths escape. Before… before the ambush, she was trying to recruit you. After… I realized what I did, I decided to figure out why Shaun wanted you dead, which led me to her. Now I'm working with her and her people." He motioned to his teammate. "Jess is one of them."

That- that made sense. She'd come to me about Brian, but she wanted more than that. If someone was helping the Synths escape, and there would have to be, it would stand to reason that person would be someone higher up in the food chain. Li was an outsider, looking for an outsider's help. On top of that, considering her history with Project Purity, she fit the bill.

Letting the ex-soldier know I was considering what he said wouldn't do him any good. He should be afraid right now. Even though he needs to tell the Institute I'm still alive, he doesn't need all of his limbs intact or attached, to do that. Hell, he doesn't need to survive more than the time it takes to let them know. The only thing keeping him from more severe injuries than whatever damage lay beneath his broken armor was the small voice in the back of my head, telling me it wasn't the right thing to do.

It was always an easy enough voice to ignore.

I pointed at Jess. "Personalizing her doesn't change anything. Leaving you two alive-"

"Is a risk", Nate interrupted. "I did spend almost two months straight with you. That hasn't changed."

My jaw clenched and my hands balled themselves into fists. Yeah. You spent two months with me. You spent almost that much time with the kids and you still put them in danger and tried to kill me. I had to stop myself from stepping forward. I don't know what would happen if I did.

I didn't think anything he could say would change my mind about what I had to do, but the fucker sure was trying.

"And you still tried to kill me."

Nate winced as if I'd hit him. That was odd. Throughout this… conversation, he's seemed surprised I'm still alive, but… even with the obvious tension in his shoulders and the fear in his eyes, he almost seemed relieved. If I didn't know better I'd think he hadn't known the Institute was going to ambush me. Hell, I'd been half dazed at the time and, after it happened, the attack didn't surprise me.

He cleared his throat again. "You're right I tried to rationalize it at first as Shaun taking advantage of me, using me to take you out of the picture, but that's a lie. I let myself fall for it."

What? He's trying to tell me he didn't know? I'm better at shooting people than reading them, but that seemed like bullshit to me.

"You didn't know? That doesn't make you innocent, it just makes you stupid."

The ex-soldier shrugged. "Again, I can't disagree."

… Dammit. It's times like these I wish I was as adept at reading people as the smaller man. He looked like he was about to shit himself, but even so, he was maintaining some control over the situation just because of that

"Damon, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes, you can keep me as your hostage until you're satisfied", the ex-soldier motioned at Jess, "but please let her go."

Let her go? I couldn't tell what his play was. Maybe he did just want to keep her alive, I'd killed that other man who, only wearing a chest plate, didn't seem to be a Synth. Was he afraid of losing his entire squad? That would make sense.

I couldn't put a backstab past him though. Even now, when he was a split second from death, the guy's smart. I don't need to offer him another opening.

"Reinforcements would do about as well as your last forces."

"Believe me, I know." Nate shook his head. "I just- you deserve the truth, but I won't put someone under my command at risk."

A little late for that. I scoffed. "You think anything you say can change whether I kill you or not?"

"I…" Nate trailed off, a tremble at the edge of his voice again. "No- I guess but…" He smirked as he broke eye contact and dropped his gaze to the concrete floor. "Maybe I don't know how to learn."

At least he was smart enough to figure that one out.

There was a part of me that still wanted to take revenge for what the ex-soldier did, but I knew that part of me was wrong. What he said did open an interesting possibility; if he was telling the truth, and they were cooperating with Li, leaving them alive could give me leverage.

Yeah. Leverage.

"Against my better judgment, I'm not going to kill you."

Nate met my gaze again, eyebrow cocked. "Better judgment?"

"You're the only ones who still know I'm alive."

Something crossed his face, but I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe confusion?

"I… appreciate that- Damon, I won't say 'I'm sorry', you don't need to hear that from me, but things haven't changed. I lost it after finding Shaun, after finding out what was happening. That isn't an excuse though. If you're interested, I still want to help you get back to your universe. The Institute needs to change for that to happen though."

"The Institute needs to change for that to happen though." That was an… interesting way of phrasing that. If he and Li were already working on it, and he already told me that, there was only one reason he'd put it that way.

"Help", I said. "You want my help."

"Of course I want your help. That doesn't mean you should give it to me, or I have the right to ask for it, but I think you know I'd want it." Nate shrugged.

Despite myself, I felt a small smile slip across my face. He's standing here, just learning I'm going to let him live, and he has the audacity to ask for my help.

I huffed. "You have a lot of balls."

The smaller man shook his head. "No, just not many options. Not many people I trust."

Not many people you trust? Isn't that rich?

"Your trust isn't the issue."

Nate's brow furrowed and he nodded. "And I wouldn't ask for yours, I'm not that stupid. All I want is to do the right thing."

"All I want is to do the right thing." Was that another attempt at manipulation? Did he mean that? How could I trust it; the last time he was in a position to make the 'right' decision, he stabbed me in the back. How am I supposed to know if trying to change the Institute, a place that kidnaps innocent people to perform gruesome experiments purely for the fact they view others as 'lesser than', is the right thing?

If I take that stance for the Institute, what does that mean for ONI?

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. For as much shit as the Office of Naval Intelligence got up to, that is one of the few things they aren't guilty of.

The ex-soldier was still staring up at me, expectantly.

"If you're asking for my help, you're asking me to trust you're going to do the right thing. That almost got me killed", I replied, cocking my head.

Nate winced. "I- it isn't my plan."

The way he said that, the palpable relief in his voice, it almost sounded like he was glad it wasn't.

"Li."

He nodded.

"She isn't the one asking for my help."

"No, but she would. I don't know anyone who wouldn't", the smaller man said, shrugging.

I do. "Your son."

Nate winced again. "Fair."

He wants my help to change the Institute. He's asking for my help the first time we meet again after he almost gets me killed. The argument shortly after the Brotherhood attack came to mind.

"You want my help to change the Institute." Nate nodded. "Do you remember what I told you?"

The infantryman nodded again. "It isn't going to change. So, what, you're just going to blow it up? Destroy everything they've made that, in the right hands, could save people?"

Yeah, and in the right hands, the Covenant's technology could have helped Humanity. "And whose hands would those be? Most people think they're the right ones to handle dangerous technology, but look at what happens."

"I don't know yet, but we both know the hands it's currently in are the wrong ones."

My eyes narrowed. He wants to oust his son? After everything that's happened?

"You're telling me you want to remove Shaun."

The ex-soldier nodded sharply. "Yes. This is a chance to fix things, to make a real difference. I spent 20 years in the military without changing a goddamn thing."

Make a difference huh? Again, I couldn't tell if that was him trying to lead the conversation, or if he was being sincere. The question wasn't whether he was telling the truth about wanting to make a difference or not, it's about what difference he wants to make.

I glanced at 'Jess' who was still cowering behind the ex-soldier. He was trying to save her, but that didn't mean anything. Either way, he's more useful to me alive than another corpse; there are already plenty of those around.

And on the off chance, he's telling the truth…

"Your opsec still sucks, and tracking you is easy. If you were fighting any real army, you'd have lost by now. The Brotherhood has figured out how to intercept your comms, encrypt them. I assume you already know they can trace Relay signals which is why you've begun moving in smaller groups. You'll need to do more." My eyes locked back onto Nate. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, but don't mistake my intent; the only reason I am is because I've got other plans in place."

Stepping forward, I placed myself directly in front of the smaller man. "If I find you attacked anyone but the Brotherhood", I said, lowering my voice, "I will burn your goddamn world down. Don't test who's better at fighting dirty. And if I see you again, you die first." He looked at Jess. "Either of you."

I didn't wait for a response. I'd said what I needed to say, now it's up to them whether they want to play by the rules I've set or not.

If I'm being honest with myself, I sort of hope they don't.

As I turned to leave, I could almost hear their hearts pounding from their chests. This 'plan' is… certainly strange. Purposely leaving people alive with the intent of giving away an advantage I'd normally dream of. After a few dozen operations, my exploits started making the rounds. People started preparing for me. For the last month, I've been able to operate with near impunity, and I'm giving that up.

It's for a reason.

Keeping other people in the immediate area safe isn't something I'm used to doing. Not on these sorts of operations. Giving up leverage to do so felt… wrong.

The journey back to the fourth floor was short, but it took long enough I reconsidered my decision to leave Nate and his teammate alive a dozen times.

No… the Institute needs to get the message the Railroad and Sanctuary are off-limits. Especially now they know I'm alive.

I can fix that.

The two of them could be gone by now. Stick to the plan, don't let emotions get in the way.

Emotions. Right. That isn't what's stopping me from killing them.

Swinging the door to the fourth-floor open, I slipped into the hall and toward the southeast corner of the building. The Synth, Andrew apparently, was still hidden, bound and gagged, behind a small mound of rubble I'd piled in front of a supply closet. His eyes were wide as dinner plates, staring at me once I cleared the collection of plaster, sheetrock, and concrete away.

The Synth's brown hair was matted to his head with sweat and his chest was heaving up and down so rapidly I had to wonder if he was hyperventilating. I'd tied the gag tight enough it was difficult for him to do anything besides let out a strangled groan. That was good, because just like when I found him wandering the destroyed streets, I didn't have time, or the desire, to get his cooperation.

I lifted him off the ground and slung him over my left shoulder. The man struggled to free himself but ended up bouncing his knee off my chest plate. From the subdued whimper, I'd guess that didn't feel great.

There was no time to worry about my passenger's comfort though, with the jammer's battery running low, and the two survivors teleporting back to the Institute, I'm on the clock. That Vertibird will probably get curious soon enough too, and I don't need the Brotherhood on my ass while I'm getting to the hideout.

With Andrew still writhing on my shoulder, I picked my way out of the alcove and headed for the service stairs. 30 seconds later I made it back to the roof, soaking in the late morning sun. The west side of the building was my target. With the tower there mostly collapsed, the uppermost floor was about a meter below the hospital's roof.

Clock ticking away in my head, I sprinted for the building's edge. It's possible I should have been a little more careful, I felt Andrew's head bounce off my back, but that's something I could worry about another time.

After one last stride, I lunged forward, launching myself across the five-meter gap toward the ruined structure. As I landed, I absorbed the shock the best I could without rolling, hoping to keep the jostling to a minimum, and continued pounding through the destroyed building. Now the game was space. I need to put as much space between me and that killing field as possible before anyone else gets brave enough to investigate it.

40 seconds of scrambling over and around piles of collapsed concrete, and destroyed furniture, a few leaps across large holes in the floor and staircase later, I was on the street. Most of the buildings in the area, like the one I'd just used as a jungle gym, were destroyed. Very few of them stood more than 8 stories, and the streets were piled high with debris. Hell, a couple of the structures had collapsed across it, colliding with other towers. It would make large troop movements difficult, which was perfect for me.

I slipped out of the building and headed west down what was left of the sidewalk. I was as careful as I could be to avoid rubble, gravel, loose concrete, and broken glass, but it was damn near impossible with how much of it was on the walkway. The Synth on my shoulder seemed to have lost his fight or was possibly concussed because he wasn't struggling anymore which was nice.

Inevitably, my thoughts drifted back to the ambush. Normally, it would be how I could perform better: how I could have taken more of them out during the initial volley of gunfire, how I should have prioritized the Coursers, and how I could have wounded Nate to keep them from running. Those ideas did make themselves known, but my mind was much more occupied by the conversation with the ex-soldier, the possibility that something had changed in the month since the ambush.

Could he have had a change of heart that quickly? Would he depose his son? Those were hard things to believe, especially considering how good the guy is at acting. My mind drew me back to the Railroad ambush, how he interacted with the people there so casually, knowing we were there to kill them. If he can do that, there's no way I can trust him now.

What about Li?

What about her?

Gunfire sounded in the distance to the south of me, somewhere. It didn't matter how many times that happened, or how many times I told myself I wasn't involved, that was always disconcerting.

As I reached an especially open four-way intersection with little by way of debris to cover a cross, I paused to scan the surrounding buildings. There were plenty of vantage points an ambushing force could engage from. Too many to clear.

This was the path I'd used on my way to the hospital, but I didn't have a vulnerable tag along with me then. I backtracked half a block and circumvented the intersection using a few alleys that involved climbing over mounds of rubble and squeezing through gaps that were probably too narrow for my passenger.

How do I trust Li either? She's Institute, hell, she was Brotherhood before that.

She chose to trust me, to a degree. What's the harm in seeing if she has an executable plan to change things?

They try to kill me again.

That's true, but the alternative is to go after and kill them.

Which is what I'm planning to do, so wouldn't making contact with Li and whoever she's working with be the alternative?

Depends on what I'm trying to do.

Hmmm.

My internal conversation fell silent as I continued through the broken city. Within 10 minutes, the largely destroyed towers blended into apartment blocks and townhouses before finally giving way to the suburbs. Beyond was the relatively sparsely populated wilderness.

Just before I began through the houses, something- a quiet skittering- caught my attention. Except, experience told me, that wasn't skittering.

I paused next to a corner store, or what had been a corner store a few hundred years ago, and listened. It wasn't skittering. The sound was footsteps, all overlapping one another, maybe two dozen meters away on the opposite side of the row of houses to my north. That meant whoever was making them was closely grouped. It wasn't the metallic thuds made by the Brotherhood's clunky power armor. The only other groups who might be walking down a street out here are Raiders and Supermutants.

Both possibilities were enticing, but the second one- I almost hoped it was the second one. To hell with that, I did hope it was the second one. This would be my fourth group this week, and the more of those mutated, green-skinned bastards I took out the better.

Besides, that was the direction I needed to go.

While it may not have been the tactically sound decision, I stole from the shadow of the storefront and crossed to the north side of the street. The shuffling footsteps were growing louder. There were enough of them, I couldn't tell how many I was facing. The more I listened though, the more certain I became they were Supermutants. The sound of the footsteps, heavy, but not as sharp, was wrong for combat boots worn by Raiders.

If I'm going to do this, I can't have Andrew riding on my shoulder.

The group was heading my way, so I need to make this quick. I scanned the houses on the north side of the street. Most of them were more rubble than houses at this point, but the house two lots west of me was relatively intact.

Slipping over to my chosen destination, I crept inside, careful to avoid-

"RAAAAAAH", I heard one of the Supermutants roar before a cascade of reports filled the air.

Even though they were still probably a dozen meters and at least one house away from me, I pulled the Synth off my shoulder and shielded him from the potential threat.

Nothing came through the walls.

The gunfire roared in the early afternoon air with shouts interspersed between booming reports. There was no return fire though.

What the hell is going on?

A minute after it started, the barrage faded away, leaving the suburbs eerily quiet.

"Stupid ghouls", a Supermutant growled. "Think they can beat Supermutants. Supermutants strong!"

"Supermutants strong!" a discordant chorus of nasally voices echoed.

It took another moment before the footsteps started up again, but once they did, I realized how dumb this idea was. While the Supermutants, with more frequency, roaming the city posed a new threat, I couldn't forget about the Feral Ghouls still hanging around. I've had to deal with my fair share while moving through the city over the past few weeks. They aren't a major problem, but leaving Andrew alone, bound and gagged while I went off to fight some Supermutants I didn't need to was childish animosity.

Their footsteps drew adjacent to the house and then continued past it.

Even if I knew it was a dumb idea, my body still wanted to do it, to butcher those cannibalistic motherfuckers, to make them pay for what they did to the kids' family. To make sure they couldn't do it to anyone else.

That isn't the mission. I'll have plenty of opportunities to do that later, for now, I need to focus on what I'm doing.

I looked down at Andrew who I was still crouched over. He looked a little dazed, but alert enough. If anything, he seemed confused about what just happened. When he returned my gaze, his eyes narrowed. He wasn't happy with me, but that sounded like his problem. The Synth hadn't had anything to eat or drink since I captured him early this morning, but we were only 15 minutes or so from the hideout. He could wait.

Picking him back up, I set the escapee back on my left shoulder. After doing a thorough inspection of the exit, I left the house and headed north.

The site of the small battle was… well it wasn't unexpected. There were dozens of bloody patches pooling on the broken asphalt, but maybe half as many bodies to accompany them. Those Supermutants had probably taken the rest.

… If I can say anything, maybe that means they won't have a reason to prey on a settlement around here somewhere for a few days.

Wishful thinking.

As much as I knew what I needed to do, the thought of the West Everett Estates almost saw me turning on my heels and going back to deal with the motley group. The dozens of bodies piled up, waiting to be eaten or discarded like trash was- it brought back memories that were still too painful to think about at times.

Stay on track. Do the right thing.

Wouldn't the right thing be to kill those bastards?

I didn't have an answer, but standing around in the middle of the street like a dumbass wasn't going to provide me one. I need to keep moving.

After one more examination of the impromptu slaughter to make sure the ghouls had been properly dealt with, I continued north. This area of the suburbs tends to be relatively sparsely populated, which is why I chose it. That was the only group I ran into before getting to the hideout.

The temporary haven wasn't my best work, not much more than a resupply location, but it didn't need to be.

While scouting the area, I figured out most of the houses here have basements. That on its own wouldn't make for a secure hideout. All that means is it's easier for someone to trap you. No, there needs to be an alternate exit as well. Lucky for me, I found one. The house itself, like many others, was mostly collapsed, but the basement underneath was mostly intact and appeared to have been a storage cellar of some sort. There was regular access through the house itself along with two small doors with staircases that came up alongside the house. Or what used to be the house.

I found a pair of concrete slabs large enough to cover the exterior entrances and piled dirt on top of them. That would be too heavy for anyone outside of the Brotherhood's power armor to move.

After making sure it was reasonably secure, I stored a week's worth of provisions, a spare HK-33, and ammo. Again, not a safe house, but good enough for what I needed.

As I crept through the remains of the house toward the interior entrance, the sagging wooden floors groaned worryingly but held. That was another reason I chose this location; with the two exterior staircases blocked, anyone trying to sneak through the ruins of the house would be immediately obvious.

"MMMM", Andrew half moaned, half screamed from my shoulder. He began flailing again, enough he might slam his head into something in the building's remains.

What now? I pulled him from my shoulder and set him down.

"What?" I hissed.

The only response I got was an irritated glare.

Gag.

Oh. Right.

"I'm going to cut the gag out of your mouth." I pulled my knife from its sheath. "Anything louder than a whisper, I tear your throat out. Nod if you understand."

The Synth blinked, eyes widening a fraction before nodding. He flinched as I slipped the cold steel knife between his cheek and the gag and sliced it away.

"Holy shit", he gasped. His breath was coming in gulps. It took him a moment but, eventually, he calmed enough to shoot another annoyed glare my way. "I can walk, you know. Your shoulder isn't a comfortable ride."

"I have no guarantee you wouldn't run."

"Right", Andrew responded, mouth a thin line, "because I'm going to run off in the middle of Boston with no supplies, no weapon, and nowhere to go. Besides", he nodded at my rifle, "I don't think I can outrun bullets."

There were a dozen other things I could say, but it didn't matter. We were here now, and we weren't going anywhere for at least eight hours. The less I had to hear him complain, the better.

"Fine." I cut the bindings from his arms and legs before resheathing my knife. Pointing down the stairs I said, "go."

After taking the time to shoot me another glare, he went to turn toward the hideout's entrance-

And promptly tumbled to the ruined wooden floor with a thud.

"Son of a bitch", he groaned.

The smirk that slipped across my face wasn't completely involuntary. I hadn't thought about how his muscles would respond to being immobile for 12 hours.

As entertaining as it would be to watch the Synth struggle, and most likely fall, down the stairs, I didn't have the patience for it. I pulled him to his feet and helped him into the basement. Once inside, it was almost pitch black, save what sunlight light trickled down through the staircase. That wasn't a problem for me, but Andrew was damn near blind.

"You didn't think to install any lights down here, I'm guessing."

I reached into a pouch and pulled out a chem light I'd taken from one of the caravans I ambushed. Once I cracked it, the dull green glow illuminated the concrete basement. It was largely bare besides a few shelves that had rusted into a pile in the far corner, along with whatever had been on them, and some sort of appliance that had likewise fallen to time. The two alternate entrances were on opposite sides of the basement with narrow concrete stairs leading to the surface. It wasn't pleasant squeezing through those.

Tossing the light into the middle of the room, I strode to the corner beside the collapsed shelves and sat against the wall.

The Synth didn't move. He remained standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me. Now that he realized we were staying for a while, the irritated glares stopped. The wide eyes and worried frown said his uncertainty and fear were running the show once again.

"So… do you mind telling me what's going on?"

"We're staying here until nightfall."

He blinked. It was impossible to tell in the sickly green glow, but he looked pale. "That isn't what I meant."

There are a lot of things you could have meant. "Be more specific."

"I mean- who are you? I saw you around the Institute once, but- well I have no clue who you are or what you want."

"I'm the guy who just saved you from the Brotherhood."

The Synth's frown deepened. "The Brotherhood…? N- no, I was supposed to meet with the Railroad."

So whoever sent him up to be captured was playing him. I cocked my head at the increasingly nervous man. "No." I pulled another object from my belt, a small radio that I, again, took from one of the caravans. "There was chatter about a Synth with vital information being delivered to the Brotherhood from a group within the Institute. That's why there were heavy Brotherhood forces in the area."

"Wait", Andrew said, legs trembling ever so slightly. "You're saying someone in Li's group is working with the Brotherhood?"

Li's group, huh. Slipping the radio back into its pouch I nodded. "Multiple people, most likely." I pointed at the corner beside one of the alternate entrances, somewhere he'd be out of the line of fire if anyone came calling. "Sit down, I'm not peeling you off the floor again."

He glanced at the prescribed corner for a moment before shuffling over to it and slumping against the wall. This was an… interesting position. Andrew was someone who could provide a lot of information and wasn't trained to resist interrogation. But interrogating him would subvert my reason for doing this.

Maybe I try asking first.

Novel idea.

"Where were you supposed to meet the Railroad?"

Andrew swallowed hard before shaking his head. "I uh- well it was supposed to be in a small storefront a few blocks north of the hospital."

That would explain why the Brotherhood forces were so quick to react once Nate and his people got there.

"Did you have anyone, in particular, you were supposed to contact?"

"No… No, they just told me to meet my escorts there."

Okay, so whoever set this up was trying to go quick and easy while revealing as little as possible. That wasn't extremely useful information, but it let me know whoever did it doesn't have much support. So now there were two questions: how valuable is the information I'm transporting, and 'Li's group'.

"What was your job with the Institute?"

The Synth's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Why would the Brotherhood want you? Getting a Synth out of the Institute is already a massive risk, so whoever did it took on even more if they're working behind both the Institute and Li's backs."

"I…" the man trailed off. He looked like he was about to puke.

While I was in no hurry considering we'd be here for hours, I have no interest in dealing with a mumbling, half coherent… 'interviewee'. "Andrew", I barked quietly, just enough edge on my voice to snap him back to attention. "Why would someone take that risk?"

"I… uh… I worked in the Advanced Research Division."

I waited for more, but he fell silent, staring at me wide-eyed.

So we're playing this game.

"And?"

"If people are after me because of what I know, I don't think I should tell you."

That was probably the right answer, but it wasn't the one I wanted. "The Railroad doesn't know you're out here, and almost everyone who came looking for you is dead."

Andrew swallowed. "How do I know you won't use the information to hurt the Institute." He shook his head. "No, I won't tell you." The Synth's voice was still trembling, but there was a modicum of resolve beneath the fear."

Hurt the Institute? I cocked my head at the cowering man. "You care about what happens to the Institute?"

He gaped at me. "Of course-"

"Lower your voice", I growled.

A few seconds of silence followed, Andrew's mouth hanging open, his eyes wide. Once he did collect himself again, he nodded.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Of course I care about the Institute. Just because some of the people there are bad doesn't mean the whole place is. There are a lot of good people trying to do the best they can."

Li.

"Li's group." Andrew nodded again. "They're the ones who help Synths escape?"

"Yes. I- I was working with them when one, his name is Booker, told me the Railroad wanted to help me get out. I didn't know why, but if they had plans, I didn't want to jeopardize them." He swallowed. "They're working against a system that's designed to keep what they do from happening, so what they do is very delicate."

Well, it sounds like Booker might have blown that to hell.

"So Li is leading a splinter cell in the Institute to help Synths escape. Why?"

"Because they treat us like… animals." There was an edge on his voice now, an anger that hadn't been there a moment ago. "We're there to do their menial day-to-day tasks, undergo experimentation, work endlessly until we're used up. Then they just throw us away and go to the new batch and start it all over again."

My mind flashed back to Jenny, the Synth I inadvertently rescued from both the Gunners and the Institute. Had Li's group helped her too? Probably, but that wasn't the question at hand.

This was going somewhere entirely different than I anticipated; now the questions aren't as much about why the Brotherhood wanted Andrew, but what Li is up to and why she wanted my help? If they were going to continue sneaking Synths out of the Institute, they wouldn't need firepower, they'd need subtlety.

Unless they were planning on using me to escort their escapees? Huh.

"But you, and this splinter cell, think of Synths as more than disposable resources."

Andrew nodded. "We're people. I can't tell you how many times I've heard them brag about how third-generation Synths are almost indistinguishable from regular humans." He scoffed. "Well if that's the case, why don't you treat us like we are? Just because we're easy to manufacture?"

They treat people like that too.

"What's the long-term goal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Smuggling Synths out of the Institute will only work for so long", I replied. "You're going to get caught. So what are they planning to do?"

He frowned again. "I- I mean there's been some talk about how we can change things for the better but, well it hasn't gone anywhere."

"The Institute needs to change for that to happen…" My eyes narrowed. What the hell is Nate playing at?

"How does Nate fit into this group?"

The Synth paused, staring at me, his frown turning to one of confusion. "What does Nate have to do with Li's group? Well- uh, as far as I know, he came to her about a month ago. I don't know what they talked about, but I know he's been working with us." Andrew's eyes widened. "Why? What happened?"

I shook my head. "Nothing." Yet. So the mfer might have been telling the truth… what changed?

Was he playing Li? Trying to dig into her splinter cell to help Shaun dismantle it? Did he go there to fight after the ambush? If he is helping her, what changed his mind? There were so many questions he had, none of which Andrew could answer. How could he get in contact with someone who did know? Li would be best, but-

Railroad.

I had already intended to hand Andrew over to them, but now I'll need something else from them.

How the hell could I ask that? How could I go back to them, asking for their help after what I did?

They need my help too. Whether Nate's really on their side or not, Shaun is a cunning bastard. Even if Nate isn't helping him directly, there's no way Shaun doesn't know he's working with Li. That means they can find the Railroad through the splinter group if they slip up.

The image of Cass's face, hurt and angry, flashed through my mind. Tommy's cry as I pulled my hand away. How can I face them again?

By sucking it up and making good on a mistake. Whether they like me or not doesn't matter, this is a threat to them, and I need to help.

I grunted. This wouldn't be any significant modification to my plans, just another variable thrown into the mix. I'll have to ignore Nate for now, there's nothing I can do about him in either case.

"Andrew, I need to know what you did for the Institute."

"I already told you-" he began, voice too loud again.

"If I have to tell you to keep your voice down again, I'm hog-tying you." The Synth blinked but nodded. "I need to find out what's going on. Li asked me for my help, and if that's the case, she needs support."

He eyed me incredulously. "And how does knowing what I did help?"

"They've probably worked out I have you. I need to know how hard the Institute is going to come after you. If I don't I'm putting the Railroad, and by proxy, the splinter cell at risk."

"Wait…" the Synth frowned, confused. "You're taking me to the Railroad?" I nodded. "So you- aren't going to kill me?"

If I'm taking you to the Railroad I'm not going to kill you.

"If you keep asking stupid questions."

Andrew's mouth formed a small 'o' before it snapped shut. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because you don't have a choice, and I don't need you to find the Railroad. You don't even know who you were supposed to meet."

The Synth's brow furrowed. "How do you know where they are?"

"Magic." This was getting old. "If you don't want to spend the next two days tied up over my shoulder, tell me what you did at the Institute." As far as threats go, that may have been the most benign I've ever made.

It still seemed to have the intended effect.

"Fine, I was in the ARD working on their fusion reactor project before moving to weapons production."

I almost laughed. The Institute almost gave the entire game up with one goddamn mistake. They have someone like Andrew, and presumably more, with vital information about a central piece of their infrastructure and warfighting effort up for grabs? This was on Li's team too; there's no way Shaun, Li, or anyone else there should even allow a risk of someone like Andrew falling into the Brotherhood's possession.

"Wow", I mused as I shook my head. They'd be coming after him. I need to do this carefully. It's possible this was Nate's doing too, but that's an implication for another day. For now, the objective is to get to the Railroad and contact Li. Allying myself with them… I'm not sure I want to, but at the very least I need questions answered.

"Get some sleep", I said. "It's going to be a long night."

The Synth cocked an eyebrow at me. "What do you mean?"

"We're moving once the sun goes down. You won't be sleeping then."

He grimaced but nodded. I doubt he'd be able to sleep with how much adrenaline is probably pumping through his body, but that just meant when he did crash, he'd crash hard. That can't be in the middle of the journey between here and Sanctuary.

X

The night sky was clear and, even though I couldn't feel or taste the air, I imagined it was crisp. Somehow, Andrew was making me miss trudging across this goddamn wasteland with Nate. The ex-soldier may have been infuriating at times, but he'd been in the military for the better part of two decades and it showed. Sneaking through the forest of wilted underbrush, rocky outcroppings, and dead trees, he moved like a seasoned veteran. He watched his step, careful to avoid unnecessary noise, and his head was always on a swivel.

Dragging Andrew with me felt like I was bringing along a very large, and very loud, toddler. Every opportunity he got to brush against a bush, or find a root to trip on, he'd do it. More than a few times, the noise he made attracted the attention of some animal roaming the forest and I'd have to put it down. For the most part, it was wild dogs, or the giant, hairless rats, but a few times feral ghouls came after us.

They weren't a threat but, eventually, we would attract something that would be. Or he would attract something that would be. I was more than a little tempted to tie him back up and carry the obnoxiously loud Synth the rest of the way, his complaining be damned.

The only thing that kept me from doing so was the path I'd chosen. Most of the Brotherhood patrols focused on their caravan routes. That had redoubled since I began my attacks on them, and then again when the Institute began theirs. That meant there were very few units to scout the surrounding areas, and Maxson wasn't stupid enough to send isolated groups out alone. That's a great way to have forces begin disappearing into the night.

We were about five klicks east of Cambridge, traveling directly north. The nearest caravan route used a small two-lane road another few kilometers to the east of us, which meant the closest patrols would be at least four klicks away.

I winced as I heard Andrew bump against a sickly brown shrub I'd just skirted.

Hopefully that was far enough.

It was impossible to know, unfortunately. My captured Brotherhood radio had gone quiet since the attack. They weren't stupid enough to think I hadn't taken it, or any of the others that had gone missing from my ambush sights, at least I hope. Maybe they thought having access to their comms traffic wouldn't be a major issue. If they'd gone radio silent, they probably re-evaluated that decision, which was unfortunate, but not unexpected.

When I turned back to my charge, he glanced up at me sheepishly. "Sorry", he whispered. "This is the first time I've ever been out of the Institute."

That doesn't explain your lack of awareness.

Shaking my head, I turned back to the large rock cluster ahead of us. I couldn't be too hard on the Synth, he didn't have NVS and wasn't used to moving in low light conditions.

That's what I told myself at least. Hopefully I could keep up with the optimism. Otherwise, he'd end up slung over my shoulder again before long.

We continued our march through the darkened forest, making relatively good progress considering I was towing an anchor. By the time we'd covered half of the 20 klicks to Sanctuary, it was almost 0200. The further north we got, the easier things would be.

But the sun would be rising in a few hours

"You mind if we stop for a minute", Andrew whispered, barely loud enough to be audible. At least he did that right.

Ahead of us was a large thicket of trees. We hadn't been attacked by anything in the better part of an hour, which didn't mean anything.

I pointed to the thicket. "In there, five minutes."

The Synth nodded as he took a deep breath. He tried to hide it but the relief on his face was obvious.

As much as I wanted to say this reminded me of the first time I had to drag Nate down to Diamond city, it didn't. I didn't know which was more infuriating, but at the very least I know what I'm doing this time around. Sort of.

While Andrew sat in the thicket and ate, I skirted its perimeter, looking for any signs we were being followed. Unlike when I normally move through environments like this, I couldn't employ the same tactics that generally worked so well to avoid undetected tails. My charge moved too slow, and because I was trying to get to Sanctuary before the sun came up, I couldn't take the time to backtrack.

And we still probably wouldn't make it before then.

What the hell was Nate playing at? From what I knew, it seemed like the ex-soldier was working with the splinter cell. It seemed like what he told me in the hospital was true.

How could it be though? He'd let Shaun fool him into doing what he wanted once, and he was damn convincing about it.

I stopped at the south edge of the thicket. Besides our footprints and the mess of random animal tracks, there was nothing in the dry, shifting dirt that would suggest anyone else was near.

Maybe I'm overestimating how much he trusted me, but the fact he was able to betray me, someone who had not only stuck with him, trudging across this nuclear wasteland but saved his life a dozen times, it didn't give me confidence he wouldn't do the same to Li. He'd said Shaun played him, but if that's true, how much of it was the ex-soldier allowing his son to play him. What's to say the same thing doesn't happen again.

Nate's smart and attentive, but Shaun has been playing that game for 60 years.

Rustling came from within the thicket and, a few seconds later, Andrew emerged again, offering me a nod.

We continued north, slowly picking our way through the dead forest. To his credit, the Synth was getting better as we went. By the time we were 15 kilometers in, it was rare he'd rustle a bush, or lose his footing. He was nervous, that was obvious in his shallow breathing and tight movements, but for someone who'd never been out of the Institute, he had it under control.

Unfortunately, the stars began fading from the night sky as it went from black to a deep blue still an hour or so from Sanctuary. We needed to take a few minutes and move out of sight. If anyone was following us, now would be a decent time to catch them.

The Synth needed to take a break anyway. His breath had gone from shallow to ragged over the last klick.

"Stop here", I said as we reached what looked like a half-collapsed shack. No footprints, no disturbed wreckage, no obvious signs of entry. It looked safe enough. I slipped inside the dark, cluttered interior to find the remains of a truck rusted into the ground, and a multitude of toolboxes and tools to go along with it.

"Clear."

Andrew crept inside and dropped to the ground. "Thanks."

This journey had been a lot longer, and a lot more aggravating than I thought. Maybe I should have planned better so I didn't have to suffer through this. Don't mention it.

"We move in five."

He nodded. "Got it", he heaved.

As the Synth pulled out a bottle of water, I moved back out into the slowly brightening early morning. Once the sun was up, following us through this part of the forest undetected would be difficult. If anyone had the skill to tail me this far without being spotted, they'd know that.

This time, I scouted 50 meters in every direction from the small garage. Still nothing. It wasn't disappointing, but the idea I was taking such a high-value asset, and neither the Brotherhood nor the Institute, both of which had resources invested here, were following was disconcerting. How long would that last? How long until they figured out what I was playing at?

It doesn't matter. We'll be at Sanctuary in an hour, and I'll hopefully have him to the Railroad by tomorrow. Once that happens, he's in the wind, and I go back to my regularly scheduled program.

Well… albeit with some modifications.

Five minutes up, I snuck back to the shack and, with the sky now thoroughly deep blue, I collected Andrew and we continued north.

The last leg of the journey was, like the rest, uneventful. As we neared the settlement, I considered leaving the Synth somewhere discrete. Bringing him to Sanctuary would put a target on their back for anyone who knew we'd been there. I discarded that idea. If anyone had managed to tail us across 20 klicks of rocky forest without my spotting them, they'd, one, capture him as soon as I was gone, and two, know there was a connection between Andrew and Sanctuary regardless.

Aside from that though, my trepidation about returning to the settlement began gnawing at the back of my mind. Maybe it's an overstatement to say 'began' since it had been for days now. Operating on my own, self-sufficient, no connections to anyone else had more benefits than just flexibility. Even if the Institute and the Brotherhood knew I had connections to this place (which at least the Institute does at this point), unless I give them a reason to think otherwise, they may just consider them bystanders. By coming here now, once the fighting has started, and bringing an HVT along for the ride, I'm potentially putting them at risk.

This is something I decided on weeks ago. I can't keep putting it off; the longer I take to do this, the more risk they'll be at regardless. Especially with how Preston's been expanding.

That thought didn't make things any easier.

By the time we reached the road that would take us to Sanctuary's entrance, the sky was shot through with pink and orange streaks. As always, the cracked and cratered road was littered with rusted-out hulks that, a few hundred years ago, had been cars. The sun would be up in another 15 minutes. That was good.

I motioned for the Synth to halt a dozen meters inside the treeline. "Stay here, keep your head down."

His eyes widened. "Why?"

"Because I told you to." Now was a good time to perform one last sweep.

"If you get in trouble, yell", I said as I slipped into the shadows cast by the trees in the slowly brightening dawn.

"But-"

"Quiet."

This time, I was much more meticulous with my search. I swept out a 100-meter half circle looking for anything that could be someone following. Any further than that, and there's no way they would have been able to keep track of us through the forest. No disturbed underbrush, no distinctly non-animal trails besides ours… Nothing.

Alarm bells were ringing in my head. Why the hell had they both given up here? Sure they each lost a few dozen people, but the Institute wouldn't want someone like Andrew falling into anyone's hands as much as the Brotherhood wanted him. That want had been enough to have them risk a very delicate operation in the Institute to get him out. Were they cutting their losses?

I paused as I studied our tracks. Was this something Shaun or Nate cooked up? They didn't need to know where Andrew was to find Sanctuary. Hell, the ex-soldier lived there before the war. And the Brotherhood… I picked the Synth up almost as soon as he dropped out of teleport. There was no time for him to rendezvous with anyone to get a transponder. Am I just being paranoid? Am I giving these people too much credit? They both have limited resources, especially the Brotherhood (mostly people) so they couldn't afford to fight a war the same way I'm used to but still… This doesn't make sense.

I'm probably just being paranoid.

Being paranoid is what's kept me alive.

Following our tracks back to Andrew's hiding spot, I didn't see any signs someone was trying to use our trail to follow us either. That was my last guess. Unless someone is inhumanly good at covering their presence, no one was after us.

"Andrew", I whispered as I neared the spot I'd left him. "Let's move."

The Synth jumped from behind a tree, eyes wide.

"Don't do that, okay? I'm already scared enough with you sneaking up on me."

"Uh-huh."

Red sky at our backs, we made our way the last 15 meters out of the forest and onto the street.

"Stay directly behind me until we reach that bridge", I said, pointing toward the bridge spanning the sickly-looking river a few hundred meters. Just because no one was following us didn't mean the Institute or the Brotherhood hadn't guessed where I would go. It isn't like there are many options.

The Synth nodded. "Got it."

It wasn't the first time I'd seen Sanctuary since their most recent round of fortifications. The short wall was still there, with shooting posts arranged behind it and firing slots in convenient spots. Now though, they were sporting what looked like watch posts peeking over the barrier. It still impressed me how far Preston and his group had come. Especially since it appeared they were well into restarting whatever settlement network they'd had before. During my scouting of the area, I saw a few dozen parties and caravans shuttling people and goods between other settlements in the area. Overall it wasn't huge, maybe a few hundred people across a dozen settlements, but it was a damn sight better than the eight people they started with.

I stopped as I reached the south end of the small bridge and waited. Even though they were well hidden, I made five different positions watching me, either from the muzzle of a rifle or because they could use a bit more concealment. Enough people in Sanctuary knew me that someone would get Preston.

As… relieved as I was to see they were still doing well, this wasn't going to be a long visit. I needed to be in and out and get Andrew to the Railroad. The longer I stay, the more dangerous it is for them.

Soon enough, the small door set in the wall on the opposite side of the bridge swung open, and the still ridiculously dressed former minuteman strode out with a half dozen others. The same ones who greeted me last time.

Motioning for the Synth to walk beside me, I began across the bridge to meet them.

"Hey Damon!" Preston called. "How are things? Back for your monthly visit?"

Julian seemed eager as ever to greet me and Alexandra looked disappointed while the other three, who were still cradling their rifles, were as suspicious as the last time.

"No." I pointed at Andrew. "I need Sturges' help with something and then I'm gone."

The dark-skinned man cocked an eyebrow under his ridiculously oversized hat as he and his group came to a stop in front of us. "Oh yeah? You bringin trouble our way."

I blinked. It was a sarcastic jab, I knew well enough, but it was still a reminder I didn't need.

"I hope not."

"Uh oh", Alexandra said from next to him. She was only half-mocking though. "I'll get with Owen. MacCready, you wanna send word out?"

The man in question nodded. His eyes were, as always, glued to me.

"We'll handle it, whatever it is", Preston said. "Things have gotten a lot better around here."

I nodded. "Good. Now", I glanced back over my shoulder toward the forest, "we shouldn't be standing out here."

Preston cocked an eyebrow. "You think you've been followed? And who is this?"

"Unknown."

"I'm Andrew", the Synth said, sticking out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Andrew. I'm Preston." The Minuteman looked at me. "Let's get inside then."

With that, the small escort led us back to the settlement. I still couldn't shake the feeling someone should be trailing us. Everything I've seen says we weren't followed, and I haven't felt like I've been watched… That's what bothers me.

Once the door swung shut, Preston turned back to me. "So you came up this way to talk with Sturges huh? Does it have something to do with the Institute?"

That's a good guess. I cocked my head at the man.

He laughed. "Don't get all defensive, we know about Sturges."

They know the man's a Synth? "Aren't you supposed to be scared of Synths?"

Alexandra shrugged as she exchanged glances with the other three men. "The Institute, yeah, but we've never had any problems with Synths. I mean we've all heard the stories, but Sturges has been with us since the beginning." She eyed my charge. "I'm guessing you're one too."

Andrew hesitated, eyes darting around the assembled settlers nervously.

"Yes", I answered for him. "I need to get him to the Railroad."

"Hey, this isn't-"

I ignored his protest. "And it needs to happen now. He's high value for the Brotherhood and the Institute. The longer we stay here, the more danger you're in."

"Okay." Preston nodded, his expression growing serious. "Follow me."

The former Minuteman turned and marched back toward the main common area where people were bustling around beginning their day. As always, I couldn't help the glance I cast at Charlie, who still seemed to be hanging on to life. The teenager looked more gaunt than the last time I was here, but he was still tending to his planters. Alone. It probably wasn't necessary considering the crops the Finches had helped grow, but I doubt it was for food, at least not completely.

As with the last time, people stole glances at our group, and more specifically me, as we made our way toward the faded yellow house that served as their gathering area. Sturges was there, sitting in some sort of folding chair, eating a piece of fruit.

"Well look who-" he froze mid-sentence as the engineer's eyes fell on Andrew. He didn't speak or move for the next five seconds as the two Synths stared each other down.

"What the hell?" Sturges asked, sounding confused. "Andrew, what are you doing here?"

The other Synth looked just as shocked. "I, uh, well that seems like it applies to you too doesn't it? You disappeared years ago, and now here you are, hanging out in the Commonwealth eating breakfast."

They know each other…? I guess it shouldn't have been a huge surprise but…

When I glanced at the others in the group, Alexandra and Preston's faces were masks of confusion as well.

Sturges noticed it too.

"Andrew and I used to work in the same division in the Institute." He paused, looking at his former… coworker?

That explains his technical knowledge.

Preston cleared his throat. "Okay, well we need to get him to the Railroad." The dark-skinned man met my gaze. "Damon says he's an important target for the Institute and the Brotherhood."

"Yeah", the engineer chuckled, "I'm not surprised." He stood and walked up to Andrew, clapping his hand on the other Synth's shoulder. "It's good to see you're doing alright. Looks like you ended up in a big damn mess. Again."

A small smile twitched across Andrew's face. "Had to make up for all the time spent following the rules."

"Well if you broke out of the Institute, you ain't following the rules all that well." With a glance at me, Sturges stepped back. "Give me a few minutes."

"Don't mention me", I said before he had a chance to leave.

The engineer cocked an eyebrow. "This a surprise party or something?"

I shook my head. "I…" I trailed off. How am I supposed to say "I almost killed them"? "We had a falling out. No one got hurt", I added quickly as Sturge's brow furrowed. None of them anyway. "Just… please-" please trust me?

Yeah, I have to ask. What else am I going to do?

"Please trust me."

A moment of uncomfortable silence (even for me) passed as Sturges locked eyes with me. He had questions, that was evident in the frown on his face, but after a few seconds, he nodded. "I'll let 'em know to get the ball rolling, but you're gonna have to tell me what happened if you want my full cooperation."

I swallowed. It was a conversation I knew would happen eventually, but that doesn't mean I want to have it.

"Understood."

He held my gaze for a heartbeat longer before nodding and heading for another house on the north side of the street.

"Hey, Andy- you mind if I call you Andy?" Alexandra asked in a voice that suggested it wasn't really a question. "I know this big metal bastard has been dragging you around, you want something to eat? Drink?"

The Synth sagged ever so slightly and shuddered. "Oh yes, would I. All I've had the past day is stale preserved food and dirty tasting water." He nodded. "Andy is fine."

You're welcome for keeping you alive. Asshole.

With a warm smile that turned a little mischievous as she shot it my way, Alexandra grabbed his arm. "Good. Come on then, let's get a bit of fresh fruit for you." She looked at her son. "Julian-"

"Yeah, yeah, you always do this", the tall, lanky teenager interrupted. "Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

She looked at me again, then back to her son. "If I come out here in five minutes, and you aren't on guard duty, I'm gonna make sure you pull a double tomorrow. Blaine isn't on your time."

Julian smiled. "Yes ma'am."

Seemingly satisfied, the woman led Andrew inside to find some 'real' food.

"You guys too", Preston said to MacCready and the other two guards that were hovering behind me. "I think our friend has proven he doesn't need an armed escort everywhere he goes." He glanced at me. "MacCready, take a team and sweep the perimeter, I'm sure Damon was careful, but let's check our regular spots."

The ex-mercenary hesitated a moment before nodding. "Got it, boss."

He and the other two guards departed to scout the surrounding forest. As odd as it seemed, they wouldn't find anything, but I can understand wanting to know that for yourself.

"So things seem a little different since the last time you were here", the Minuteman continued. "You're… well you seem a lot more talkative. And you're dragging a Synth around."

I shrugged. "A lot has happened."

"Care to share, or is this another one of those things you don't want to talk about."

No, I don't want to talk about it. I huffed. "That falling out with the Railroad included a falling out with Nate and the Institute. As far as I know, I'm stuck here now."

Preston cocked an eyebrow. "Stuck here?" He looked confused for a moment before it clicked into place. "Oh, right, you were relying on the Institute to get you back to your universe." He frowned. "Or whatever you needed. So does that mean you're trying to be a bit more friendly since you'll be sticking around?"

Is that what was going on? Shit, I don't know. All I'm doing right now is what I was trained to do, the only difference is I'm the one giving myself a target. Right now that's the Brotherhood. Tomorrow it's the Institute.

"Don't know. I can go back to ignoring you."

He smiled. "Do you want help or not?"

"Fair point."

After a few seconds Preston grunted. "Well, I guess we owe you another one anyway so consider it a wash."

"Yeah", Julian said a little too excitedly, "I'm guessing you're the one who wiped out that group of Gunners to the east."

I nodded.

That was a week or so after I dragged my ass out of the pile of steel and wood that had been the church. I was still in rough shape and needed something I could use to stay sharp while I healed. There weren't many of them, but their primary threat to Sanctuary wasn't their numbers, it was their ability to alert the forces in Quincy. I found radios on each of the eight-man team. It was impossible to know whether they'd reported the settlement's position, so I hung around for a week afterward to be sure.

"Man…" the teenager mused, "that would be amazing."

"Amazing?" I asked.

"Being able to go in and kick ass like that." He smiled. "I'm glad you're staying around."

Go in and kick ass. What was amazing about that? I have the advantage of training, equipment, and augmentations. Doesn't seem that impressive.

I shrugged. "It's useful."

Preston snorted. "Understatements aside, thanks for doing that. We're well equipped here, but the whole of the Gunners coming down on top of us… that would have been rough."

"It's what I'm here for." Or at least it's what I've always been used for.

"Uh-huh." The Minuteman turned to Julian. "I think it's about time you get going unless you want an eight-hour shift tomorrow."

"Pfft, no", the kid said, beginning toward the west side of the town. "Don't leave without saying goodbye."

"Right", I replied.

He frowned. "That sounded sincere." With that, he turned and jogged toward the front entrance, carrying his rifle like he lived with it every day. Which I guess he did. These people have come a long way.

"You know it seems like you always come to us when you need something important", Alexandra said as she emerged from the house, carrying two plates of food. Behind her, Andrew, or Andy now, had one of his own.

That was good timing. I smiled. Or maybe she was waiting for Julian to leave before coming out.

"You're the only people I have left to go to."

She nodded. "I heard. How long ago was that?"

"A month."

"So not long after you came to get Nora's body then", the woman said, shoving one of the plates into my hands before offering Preston the other. Again, she gave me no choice but to take it.

"Correct."

"How… did Nate take that?"

Take what, me bringing her body back? Or betraying me? I'd say he came out with the better deal after he tried to kill me.

"Nora's body?" She nodded again. "Not well."

Alexandra sighed. "I understand that. It's been four months for me and-" For the first time since I rescued her from the Raiders in Concord, I watched Alexandra's eyes turn glassy with a film of tears. "-and it's still hard." She cleared her throat. "I can't imagine what that must have been like for him."

Part of me empathized with the emotion.

A bigger part of me didn't.

"I doubt he was thinking about that when he stabbed me in the back."

Preston, Alexandra, and Andrew all stared at me.

"Stabbed you in the back?" the Synth asked. "What do you mean?"

I shouldn't have said anything.

"It's a long story."

Preston looked around dramatically. "I don't got anywhere I need to be."

Of course.

"The Institute wanted me to wipe out the Railroad. I didn't. They tried to kill me for it." I felt my body shift my left shoulder where one of the rounds punched through. "Almost did."

Relative silence spread over the four of us for a few more seconds as they processed the story.

Eventually, Alexandra cleared her throat. "That didn't seem very long."

I cocked my head at her. "Most people say that when they don't want to explain something."

"So you're saying you lied."

"Yes."

She exchanged a glance with Preston before a small smile slipped across her face. "Fair enough." The woman pointed at Nate's old house, its blue paint still as faded as the day we got here a little over three months ago. "I know you don't like people barging in while you're eating. Backroom over there across from the armory is yours."

While I hadn't eaten in almost a day and could feel my stomach begging for the fresh fruits and vegetables on the plate Alexandra had given me, I have my own food, and food isn't why I'm here. "When Sturges has word-"

"We'll come get you", the woman finished waving me away. "Now go."

They know me well. I smiled again. "Thanks."

Notes:

I've thought a lot about writing what Damon was doing the month we spent with Nate. I won't say what decision I made, but I didn't want to backtrack in the story in this chapter. If it hasn't become clear yet, I like consistent story progression (even if my pacing can be lacking at times). There are some fun things planned for the future, and we'll get there soon enough! I'll see everyone next time!

Chapter 42: Little White Lies

Notes:

Writing this part of the story (not just this chapter, but several others too) has been difficult. It's an odd combination: they dive further into the idea of a character study, both for Damon and the other characters, while at the same time expanding the world since the focus is no longer the dynamic between Nate and Damon. I've had to rewrite some things several times, but I like the product so far. Anyway, that's enough rambling for now, leave a comment if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

I barely had enough time to get a few bites of whatever fruit Alexandra had given me before I heard a half dozen people approaching the house. They were talking, but I couldn't make out the words.

Whatever was going on, it was either trouble, since I'm sitting next to the armory, or they're coming for me.

As they reached the front of the house, I slipped my helmet back on and stood.

"-the hell is going on Sturges", Preston said as the group neared the room.

There was no reply and a few seconds later, the engineer appeared in the doorway, glaring up at me with fury in his eyes. He didn't say anything and whoever else was with him stopped. Preston fell silent.

It was several seconds of silence before I realized what must have happened.

And that wasn't a good thing.

"You told them I was here", I said, voice low.

Shit. Shit. How the hell am I going to make this work now? They won't meet with me, and they sure as hell won't take Andrew.

"There's a reason I told you not to." I couldn't keep the heat out of my voice.

"You're goddamn right there was a reason", Sturges shot back. The anger in his tone matched his reddening face. "I trusted you with this- I put you in touch with the Railroad. These people saved my life- saved countless others and you-"

"I didn't do anything", I barked. "If it wasn't me, the Institute would have sent someone else, and they wouldn't have had a warning."

The engineer snorted. "No, no, you're right. You just went there to kill 'em yourself. That makes it better."

"No, Sturges, what makes it better is I didn't kill them."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" he shouted. "Is that how you sleep at night? You tell yourself you saved them?"

I barely sleep.

"No", I roared back, but before I could continue, the image of Cass and Tommy being pulled away by Glory, staring back at me with fear and confusion in their eyes, and resignation on their faces doused every ounce of anger I had. "No", I repeated, barely above a whisper. "You're right: I didn't save them. I just didn't kill them. They would have been attacked either way. Nate was going to show the Institute where their hideout was whether I helped or not."

"That does me a whole lotta good Damon. And here you were, asking me to help you find them again." Sturges scoffed. "You're a real piece of work. You can go to hell before I let you anywhere near the Railroad."

With that, he shoved his way past Preston who was standing beside him in the doorway. Several sets of footsteps followed him out, but the Minuteman remained standing in the hall, face unreadable.

"So I gather when you said you didn't attack the Railroad like the Institute wanted, you at least went there to attack them and… had your falling out."

Dammit… when is this shit going to stop following me? How was I supposed to do this?

"Yes."

"So, what? You went there to warn them?"

I shook my head. "I almost attacked them." Sighing, I tilted my head back and looked at the dilapidated ceiling. "Shaun, wanted me to. He wanted to get rid of the Railroad so they could focus on the war with the Brotherhood. I was a half-second away from doing it."

The dark-skinned man grunted. "What happened?"

"Don't know", I said with a shrug as I looked back down to meet his gaze. "Grew a conscience? I didn't kill them, they ran, and the Institute ambushed me."

"And that's this falling out you and Nate had."

"The end of it."

"Uh-huh." Preston frowned, eyes roaming like he was seeing me for the first time. "And you didn't tell us this because…?"

I motioned toward the front of the house. "That."

"Well, you see how well that worked out for you."

No shit. "This isn't something any of you should get involved in."

That got the Minuteman angry. "Goddammit Damon, do you think we're sitting around here with our thumbs up our asses waiting for you to save us from the big bad Institute and Brotherhood?"

You did ask me to kill those Gunners for you.

"No", he continued, "we've built something here, we've taken our fair share of fights over the past few months. This is our home and we fight for it every day."

As Preston finished, my mind drew a blank. It was the same thing he said to me last time, but I got the sense it meant more now. A plucky attitude and a few victories over Raiders isn't going to change anything though. The Brotherhood and the Institute are both much better equipped and trained than the odd band of drugged-up Raiders.

"You just gonna stand there?" the man asked, eyes burning underneath his wide-brimmed hat. "You don't get to decide what fights we take and what fights we don't."

I shook my head again. "You don't want a fight like this."

"So, what, we're supposed to trust you with keeping us safe? That's bullshit Damon and you know it."

My temper flared. Oh really? I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me.

"So what happened back in Concord?"

The Minuteman's face grew hard as stone. "What happened in Concord? You think we're as unprepared as we were back then? You think we're the same as we were back then?" He stepped into the room, eyes burning into my visor. "You think we haven't learned anything since then? That we rely on you the way we had to back then? We aren't children you giant metal asshole, and everyone here has been through hell. Don't you dare think you can treat us like we're helpless. You came to us looking for help and you couldn't even do us the goddamn courtesy of telling us what we're supposed to help you with."

He was right, and he knew I knew that. Even with the steely expression on his face, I could see it in his eyes.

Coming had been a mistake.

"I'll be out of the way in a few minutes-"

"Like hell you will." Preston's lips twitched. "Sit your ass down and finish eating. I need to go talk with Sturges, then we'll figure out what we're doing from there."

You're giving me commands.

"I'm not getting you involved in this, even if you can look after yourselves."

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "So what are you gonna do? The Railroad's out. Do you have another plan?"

I nodded. "Destroy the Brotherhood, then the Institute."

"And how do you suppose you're going to do that?"

"The same way I always do. The longer I stay here, the more danger I put everyone in."

The Minuteman scoffed again. "You know what, maybe you will take both of them down, but how much of the Commonwealth are you gonna wreck doing it? How long are we gonna be stuck in the middle of this war while the three of you fight it out." He threw up his hands. "This isn't a pissing contest; the more support you got, the easier all of this will be, and the faster you'll get it done."

Why do you think I was going to the Railroad?

"And how are you going to help?"

Preston gestured around himself. "We've got 500 people across 15 settlements, with plenty more thinkin about joining, and more guns and bullets than we need. More than that, we've established trade relations with both Diamond City and Goodneighbor as well as a few dozen smaller settlements and farms." A small smile slipped across his face. "I may not be a soldier, but I know a network like that is more than a little useful."

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't argue. I don't need supplies, and what combat support they could provide, I don't want. I don't want these people to get hurt because of my mistakes. It isn't the mistakes I might make during a fight, I'll be damned if I let that happen again, my mistakes go way further back. The Brotherhood, the Institute, Maxson, Shaun, Nate. If I'd been more careful, I wouldn't be in this situation.

What he was offering though, was a network that could gather information, move resources, and provide that support. Given enough time, and a little luck, I could take care of the Brotherhood (as long as the Institute plays by my rules). The Institute will be harder, but that's why I'm waiting on them.

"I'm not asking, by the way", the dark-skinned man said, apparently tired of waiting for me to say something. "We're going to get involved whether you want us to or not. The Brotherhood has been getting closer and closer to our people. From what we've seen, we don't want any part of what they have to offer, or what they want to take from us. This is our fight."

Why is he so determined to join a war? Fighting to defend your home and fighting a war are worlds apart. "It doesn't need to be."

"Yes, Damon, it does, that's the point. If we let the Brotherhood keep doing what they're doing, or the Institute gets worse than it already is, it won't matter if we survive whatever the hell happens. We might as well not have."

Preston wasn't going to back off. My hands balled into fists. He wasn't giving me a choice, and he knew it. The entire reason I didn't want them involved is so they wouldn't be in danger, or at least they'd be in less danger. Now, if he's so damn deadset on diving head first into a war, the worst thing I could do is not be there to help them.

"So what do you want?"

He shrugged. "Like I said: I want you to sit your ass back down, finish breakfast, and I'm gonna go talk to Sturges."

I held his gaze for a few seconds longer, but we both knew he'd won. Maybe I need to get better at lying.

"I'm giving you ten minutes. If you don't have anything by then, I'm leaving."

After another heartbeat's pause, the Minuteman smiled. "No, you aren't."

Without waiting for a response, Preston turned and walked back down the hall, leaving me alone again, just my own thoughts to keep me company.

How the hell had this happened? I came here to get in touch with the Railroad again. That's all. Now I'm dragging these people into this fight.

Like Preston said, they were going to get involved anyway. This is a better alternative to going it alone.

Yeah? By putting them in danger?

If they were going to be in danger whether I helped them or not, they're much better off with me in the mix. Besides, maybe getting some help will be a nice change of pace.

I looked at the mostly uneaten plate of food sitting on the floor next to my armored boot. Help… from civilians.

Do these people really count as civilians at this point?

There wasn't anything stopping me from leaving. I didn't have to stay here and wait for them to figure out what they wanted to do.

But… Sturges' face, and his voice, the anger, and betrayal- it was 100% justified. How am I supposed to leave now? How do I justify leaving them out to dry? By the same token though, how do I stay? They can't trust me.

I can't make that decision for them. I stay at least long enough for them to figure out what they want to do.

No, I can't, but there's a reason I've spent the last month on my own. My presence puts everyone at risk.

More or less risk than leaving them to fight on their own?

… I don't know

I settled back to the floor and pulled my helmet off once again, I couldn't answer any of these questions. Can I consider them civilians? They sure as hell weren't the same as most of the ones that survived the Human-Covenant War. These people have all seen the worst side of fighting, how it doesn't just affect the people in the battle, but destroys everyone around it too. The soldiers are just the tool used to fight.

But there's a difference between what they've seen and a war. I'm bringing that war with me.

There was a legitimate debate happening in my head about whether to leave after the 10 minutes I gave Preston or not. Of course, I would have to take Andrew with me, but the Synth probably wouldn't like it much. If I wasn't staying, he couldn't though. They're already going to be a target, and already going to involve themselves, no point in making that worse.

In the end, I decided to at least wait and see what they intended to do. Worst case, I get an idea of what I need to do to keep them out of trouble-

No… If I keep thinking like that, I'm going to have problems. Besides, I should probably give them the respect they deserve for getting as far as they have.

Even if I decided I was going to stay, at least for now, my patience didn't have the stamina it needed to wait for the former Minuteman to return. Once I finished eating, I slipped my helmet on again and exited Nate's old house.

It didn't take more than a few seconds to figure out where he was; the moment I was outside, I could hear the shouting coming from somewhere near the northeast corner of the neighborhood. If that wasn't enough, the other settlers were casting glances toward the area like they were afraid it might detonate.

The shouting was obviously Sturges. I still couldn't blame the man for reacting the way he did, even if it was impractical.

I deposited the plate Alexandra had given me on one of the small tables next to the yellow common house and made my way toward the shouting.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN", Sturges yelled. "THIS IS ABOUT THE RAILROAD."

Preston's response was much quieter, enough so that it took until I stopped at the corner of the house they were behind to make out his response. The two men were standing in what looked like a workshop, with a canopy over a half dozen different benches and an assortment of equipment, half of it lying in pieces.

"You're right, it is, but if we're going to get through this, we need to cooperate."

"He lied to me", the engineer said, his voice lower. "He went there to kill them. For the Institute."

The dark-skinned man nodded. "I'm not going to argue with that. He didn't though, and the Institute tried to kill him for it."

"Preston, we been running together for a long time", Sturges responded, shaking his head. "You know what it means when I put my name on somethin. I told them they could trust him and-"

"And you were right, Sturges. Think about it; he's still trying to get home, right? And the Institute was his best shot at it. He gave that up to save them."

Sturges snorted. "You heard him in there", he dropped his voice into a low, mocking facsimile of my voice. "I didn't save them, I just didn't kill them."

"You know he's right though: if he wasn't there, the Railroad would have been ambushed by the Institute with no warning."

Does that really constitute saving them though?

I almost stepped all the way around the corner, into plain view of the two men but, as my muscles tightened, I stopped. Preston was clearly getting somewhere with the engineer. My presence wouldn't help that.

A moment of silence fell over the two of them as Sturges hesitated, visibly struggling with something. For a few heartbeats, I thought he noticed me but, eventually, his eyes returned to Preston and he shook his head. "How am I supposed to believe anything he has to say?"

"I can't help you with that", the former Minuteman replied with a shrug. "Like I said, you're right, he lied to you. He's gonna have to do something to earn that trust back if you're willing to give it. For now though, we need the help. Hell, you saw what he did with one arm. Pretty sure he can use both now."

"Yeah", Sturges said with a curt nod. "That's what I'm afraid of." He looked away from Preston and took a deep breath. "So what are you proposin?"

"We can't go to the Railroad. You don't trust Damon, and they sure as hell don't trust him. I say we sit down with him and figure out how we get to the point we can start working with them." The former Minuteman huffed. "We're gonna need all the help we can get here, and I think the Railroad would be pretty useful, especially with the Institute."

The engineer met his friend's gaze once more. "And until then? That won't be a quick process. They don't take kindly to being stabbed in the back."

"Until then, we make sure the Brotherhood, Gunners, and Raiders stay off our backs."

Yeah, right, it's as simple as that.

I have to give him credit, Preston is a much more convincing speaker than he was when I first met the guy. While the execution wouldn't be as easy as he made it sound, the idea itself wasn't bad. The Railroad would be their best resource against the Institute, at least for gathering information, but the others would be challenging.

"Fine", Sturges said, almost grudgingly.

Preston nodded. "I'll go get him."

Hopefully they wouldn't mind I took that liberty myself. I stepped around the corner as the Minuteman turned, and he squinted up at me.

"Or the bastard's already here."

The engineer glared, the same fire that had been in his eyes before coming back full force.

"Yes", I said, watching Sturges. "I got tired of waiting."

Preston grunted. "Good to know that hasn't changed. At least I don't have to explain things to you then." I shook my head. "Alright, I'm gonna go get our security heads, we'll meet you in the armory in ten minutes." He glanced from me to Sturges and back. "You two play nice while I'm gone."

As the former Minuteman left, the Synth's eyes never left my visor, never stopped burning. I returned the glare with one a bit less heated and more… I don't know… What am I supposed to say? We all know he's right. We all know I betrayed his trust, the Railroad's trust… Cass and Tommy's trust.

Then I come here, acting like I hadn't done anything, and asked Sturges to put me in contact with the Railroad again.

That's something Nate would do.

The silence dragged on long enough Sturges began shifting and the fire in his eyes withered ever so slightly.

"Are you just gonna stare at me all day or do you have something you wanna tell me?"

Something I want to tell him? What, that I'm sorry? I almost chuckled. That was one thing I could agree with Nate on: hearing 'I'm sorry' from me, now, would only make things worse.

I shrugged. "I'm not here to fight you."

"No, no of course not. You'd have killed us already, right?" There was a hard, bitter edge to his voice that I'd never heard from the normally cheery man.

"Sturges…" I shook my head. "I can't say anything to make this better. Shit- I don't think I should stay here, I'm putting everyone in more danger. Preston is determined to join this fight, so I'm going to do what I can to help."

"What you can", he muttered. "What you can?" Sure seems like you can do a whole lot there Damon."

The implication couldn't have been clearer if he had a sign over his head.

"I'm not going to pretend I wasn't a few bad seconds away from killing them but, at this point, you all need my help and-"

The engineer barked a harsh, mocking laugh. "We need your help. You're just gonna claim that without a second of thinking?"

While I'm clearly no expert on social interactions, I do know fighting.

"Yes, Sturges, you do need my help. You think I didn't spend weeks considering whether coming back here was a good idea or not?" I held my hands out to my sides both in placation and irritation. "I'm here because I didn't have another choice. I could have tracked the Railroad down, but I didn't. I didn't because I knew that was the wrong decision."

"It was the wrong decision because you know they would have shot first and asked questions never."

I nodded. "That's true, but they also didn't need me looking over their shoulder after what I did. So I thought getting you to help would be the best solution for all parties involved. Clearly, I was wrong."

Again.

"You're damn right you were", he stabbed a finger at me. "You didn't even give me the consideration of saying what happened."

Because I knew you wouldn't help me if I had… That's something else Nate would have done.

"That was wrong too."

Sturges hesitated again, still staring at me, but the fire wasn't anywhere near as hot as a few minutes ago.

"We better go", he said quietly. "They're probably waiting for us."

With that, the engineer brushed past me and toward Nate's house. I turned to follow, but as I went to step around the corner, I paused. What the hell am I getting myself into here? What am I getting them into? Even if they were to do this on their own, the Brotherhood finding out they're not only fighting them but doing so with me- and then they discover there are Synths here- they'd come down on Sanctuary and their other settlements with hellfire.

The Synths are going to be here regardless, so what I need to focus on now is how I can keep that from happening. How I can help them keep that from happening.

Right.

I followed after Sturges, more of the stares from settlers coming back my way now. The walk across the neighborhood wasn't long, maybe 100 meters, but it seemed to stretch on for kilometers. That wasn't just my trepidation, it was the collective eyes that fell on me, making my skin crawl and my head scream at me to find somewhere more secluded.

Plus, if things went to Preston's plans, all of these people would be involved in a war soon enough.

The engineer had been right; Preston was waiting in the house's front room with Valentine, Owen, Sturges, Alexandra, MacCready, and one other man I didn't recognize.

"So", Preston started as I ducked into the living room, "just to get everyone up to speed on what's happening, Damon here had a run-in with a few important groups. He was sent by the Institute to wipe out the Railroad." The gazes that turned on me were sharp enough to cut skin. "He didn't, warned them about the attack, and got ambushed himself by the Institute for betraying them. Now he's here looking for a way to get back in touch with them and sneak another Synth, Andrew, away from the Institute. That isn't going to happen, not until we know we can trust him again, but as you all know, both the Brotherhood and the Institute are gonna come calling soon enough. We've gotten too big to go unnoticed. Damon wants our help getting back to the Railroad, and we want his help keeping our home safe." The former Minuteman met the eyes of each person assembled. "If we don't feel like we can trust him, we end this here", his eyes drilled straight into me, "he goes on his way."

Of the half dozen assembled in the living room, each of them was glaring at me except for Preston, whose gaze was more measured, and Alexandra, who looked more irritated than anything. I couldn't help but wonder what that was about.

"Why should we trust him?" Owen said, placing his hands on his hips.

When he looked at Preston, the man shrugged. "He has a mouth, ask him."

The armorer cocked an eyebrow at me. "Well?"

Well? Well what? I don't know you, and I don't owe you a goddamn thing.

I turned to Preston.

"No", he said before I could protest. "We're all here because of what we're gonna have to do sooner or later." The Minuteman gestured to the assembled citizens. "These are the people in charge of security for our settlements. You want our help, everyone is involved."

They need my help, whether they want to admit it or not. Sure, they may be able to do some damage on their own, but both the Brotherhood and Institute are larger and better equipped. That being said…

"You expect me to discuss sensitive information with people I don't know."

Preston nodded. "You know the best way to do this is to work together."

Do I?

"I've spent a lot of time working alone."

"No doubt", the ridiculously dressed man responded matter of factly, "Does that make me wrong?"

I blinked.

At this point, I'm just being stubborn.

Yeah well, me being stubborn is why I'm still alive.

And my decision-making is what's got me into this mess.

… Fine.

Casting my gaze around the small group, I settled my eyes on MacCready. He still had the same, overly suspicious stare as the first time we'd met.

"I don't have an answer."

Alexandra snorted. "Nice one soldier boy. Maybe try that again with a bit less stupidity."

I glanced at her before meeting the former mercenary's eyes once again.

Why should they trust me? Because I'm their best option. But here, I'm going to be everyone's best option. It's why every major player in this war has tried to recruit me… before promptly betraying me. Maybe I need to do something about that.

Shrugging, I tried again. "If you, or me, are going to survive the next few months, working together is the best option. There's nothing I can say to make you believe me. The original group of people I brought here can attest to my combat ability." My eyes never left MaCready's. "That being said, I don't know you either. I have no reason to trust you outside of working with people I know."

"That's awfully ballsy considering what you just tried to pull", Sturges muttered.

Again, the engineer was right but, if we're talking about combat, I have to know the people I'm working with are competent and on my side.

"Yes, I made a mistake, but I've been stabbed in the back twice now." My eyes locked onto Sturges. "It won't happen a third time."

Owen huffed. "It sounds a whole lot like no one here trusts each other. Think it'll be pretty hard to fight a war if everyone's watching their backs."

"No", Alexandra said. "It isn't that we don't trust Damon, he's done too much for us for that. This isn't something we can ignore though." Her eyes didn't have the same fire in them that Sturges' did, but they were still piercing. "If you're claiming attacking the Railroad was a mistake, how are you gonna fix it?"

I didn't attack the Railroad. Saying that wouldn't have gotten me anywhere though, and it didn't negate the fact I did go there to kill them.

"Take down the Institute and the Brotherhood."

The woman frowned. "And how does that help the Railroad?"

"Those are the people who want them dead."

"You intended to do that alone?" Valentine asked.

I shrugged again. "More or less."

Silence settled over the small assembly as they all looked at me. Sturges, Alexandra, and Preston were more curious than anything, but the other three wore confused frowns.

"Care to share how you intended to do that friend?" the third newcomer asked. He was a larger man with a shaved head and a large, red beard.

"Start with the Brotherhood, break down their infrastructure, then take apart their operations. The Institute is what I need the Railroad's help with."

"You make that sound awfully simple. We're talkin' about the Brotherhood of Steel here. They took down the Enclave, they broke up the Raider gangs on the west coast, they-" paused, brow furrowed. "Point is, you're one guy. Even if you're as good as Preston says, turning down help would be dumb."

He's right, it would be. Even when I was operating on my own, I had teams of intel officers, analysts, informants, and more target info than the combined combat intelligence of everyone in this goddamn wasteland. The only reason I want to turn their offer down is to keep them out of the thick of the fighting. To keep them as safe as I can.

Maybe I should say that.

"I wanted to turn your help down to keep you out of the fight." I looked at Preston again. "Considering you're determined to get involved either way… the best chance you have is with my help."

"Aye, that makes sense", the man nodded. "That doesn't tell us why we should trust you though."

"Like I said, there's nothing I can say that will make you believe me."

Preston decided it was his turn to interject. "Vincent, I get your doubts, and they make sense considering the circumstances, but for now we'll just have to say our experiences so far vouch for his reliability." The Minuteman cast a glance at me. "Recent events notwithstanding. I'm not saying we give him free reign, but if we're looking for a bit of firepower, Damon's our guy."

A shift brought my attention back to MacCready who finally tore his gaze away from me to look at Preston. "How are you suggesting this thing works?"

The dark-skinned man smiled at me from beneath his massive hat. "Well, I believe that's part of the value our friend here brings to the table. Damon? What was your next step after taking Andy to the Railroad?"

I cocked my head at the settlement leader as the rest of the room's collective gaze fell on me. Not only is he essentially coercing me into helping them, but now he wants me to come up with the battle plan. If I didn't know he was doing this for his people, I'd probably be irritated. As it was, I allowed a small smile of my own to slip across my face. That was hidden by my helmet, of course.

"They have 'partnerships' with a few dozen farms to the east and northeast. I was going to render them useless to the Brotherhood, limiting their income of supplies."

"You were gonna destroy the farms?" Valentine asked, eyebrow cocked.

I shook my head. "Limit their food production capability so they could only yield enough to support the people tending them. At least in the short term."

"How?"

"Burn the crops."

None of the other people in the room looked happy about that, but something they're going to have to get used to is the things war necessitates. Even now, I'm playing by rules I find… limiting for the simple fact it will keep Sanctuary and its growing network of settlements safe. For the time being, anyway.

"How do you know that would stop the Brotherhood from exploiting them?" Preston asked. "What if they just take whatever those farms have left and leave."

There were two reasons for that. "How many people do you think are in the Commonwealth?"

The Minuteman shrugged. "I don't know… the settlements I know of in the city probably total up to… 4000, I guess the areas around including ours, another 10? 12?"

It was something close to that.

"Yes. And the Brotherhood can't afford that fight. People hear they confiscated farmers' only food and left them to starve, that's a fight they get. I also intend to be there when the Brotherhood comes afterward."

"And kill them?"

I nodded.

Alexandra cleared her throat. "Well, what if we… change the relationship they have with the Brotherhood instead?"

Change their relationship?

"You mean integrate them into your network."

She nodded. "Those farms produce a lot of food for the folks living in the city. You burn their crops down, people starve."

"Doing that will put you at odds with the Brotherhood."

Vincent, apparently, nodded. "I believe that's her point." His eyes locked on me. "Which is where you come in."

They're thinking I can make it not worth Maxson's time to come after them? Yeah… these people don't know anything about war.

I shook my head. "That isn't how that works. The bigger the threat you are, the more they'll send at you. If they know you're working with me, they come harder. A stand-up fight is how you lose this type of war."

Preston frowned. "What would you propose as a next step then? I agree with Alexandra: we help those people, we get more support from the surrounding settlements that rely on them for food."

If we can't make them non-viable sources of food how do I keep the Brotherhood off of them? If Maxson doesn't know I'm involved, he has three options. The first, and what I think he'd go with, is a large upfront strike, make sure the other settlements in the area know who's in charge without causing too much damage. The second would be to send smaller units to… persuade the farms to begin supplying them with food again. The third would be to leave them alone and find another way to gather resources. Maxson is too stubborn, proud, and determined to do that last one.

Those all have their own problems, and because of the unpredictability, I don't like it. How else would you do that?

Delay.

Delay? That could work…

"There are other strategies we can use, but they all carry risks. Delay tactics would be the best option."

That way, they wouldn't be in direct opposition to the Brotherhood, at least not overtly. It would give me time to… I don't know. This isn't something I can come up with on the fly though; if I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. A mistake here will cost these people lives, and I can't be responsible for that. I can't be responsible for getting them killed.

I can't be responsible for getting them killed…

"What next?" MacCready said, still looking unconvinced. "Even if they do fall for it at first, they won't for very long. What then, are we just supposed to hope they've weakened enough to lose a fight?"

I blinked. What's next? What's next is I figure out if I'm even staying here to help you.

"Still working on that."

Preston nodded. "Which is fine." His eyes left me to look around the room once again. They lingered on each person for a short moment before moving on to the next. It's something I've seen other commanding officers do.

"So are we in agreement? This may not be perfect, but it's the best shot we have."

There was a pause as silence draped itself over the house once again. Owen, MacCready, and Vincent all exchanged glances before fixing their gazes back on me. Sturges' had never left. His eyes weren't burning with the intensity they had before, but it would probably be some time before he felt comfortable trusting me again. If ever.

That's fair.

"We'll have to see where this goes, I guess", Owen said.

Vincent grunted. "Aye."

The last one to respond was MacCready who still looked like he didn't know whether to attack me or run. That was also fair.

"Fine, but we need to put together a real plan before doing this. We screw up and those farmers are good as dead. That's before the Brotherhood comes after us."

On that, we can agree.

After the mercenary finished, Preston turned to the engineer. "Sturges…" He trailed off, watching the man glare daggers into me. "Are you okay with this?"

The grease-covered man shook his head. "Hell no I'm not." He stalked up to me and jammed a finger into my chest. "I don't care if you didn't physically attack them, you let the Institute find the Railroad. You coulda done something to stop that, and you didn't." There was more than just anger in his voice and on his face now. Sturges' frown was trembling, and his eyes, the corners were creased with worry. "Those people are just trying to do right, and you damn near killed them for it." He turned to Preston. "I'll work with this for now, but don't expect me to like it."

… Again, he was right.

"Of course", the former Minuteman said with a slow nod.

With that, Sturges turned and stalked out of the house turned armory.

Silence followed as the other occupants watched me. It almost seemed like they were waiting to see what I would do.

How the hell am I supposed to know what to do? I didn't like any of this. I didn't like that my plans had been ruined, I didn't like that Preston was dead set on getting his people involved in this conflict. I didn't like that now I was forced to help protect them.

And I didn't like that they didn't trust me to do that.

After a few seconds, the collective stares became too present, too intrusive to stay. It felt like they were trying to delve into whatever thoughts were barrelling through my head as we all stood there in silence. I ducked through the doorway into the late morning light and began toward the bridge. The few dozen settlers I passed all cast furtive glances at me but continued on with their day.

Not only do I have to figure out just what the hell is going on with the Institute, what Li is doing, what Nate's playing at, and keep fighting the Brotherhood, I have to completely re-evaluate my plans. It isn't just me fighting this war now, Preston's people are involved, and while they may be able to help, that's a vulnerability Maxson and Shaun can use.

As I reached the wall, I hesitated.

What am I supposed to do here? How do I prepare them for this?

I swung the steel and wooden door open and stepped through.

How do I plan for a fight when I'm also responsible for keeping these people safe?

I don't. Preston said they're involved either way. It isn't my job to defend them if they're here to fight.

Isn't it? They aren't SPARTANs. Shit, they aren't even trained soldiers. They have experience, and they're definitely more resilient than the average citizen, far more. But there's a difference between that resilience and being a fighting force.

My feet carried me across the bridge.

Maybe that's my first step then: prepare them to be a fighting force, instead of just defending their homes.

I'm no drill instructor.

Don't have to be. All I need to do is make sure they understand what they're getting into, and plan this so they can gain experience with minimal risk.

… All I need to do. Right. These people have no clue what they're signing up for.

Stalking up into the hills to the west, I began walking the settlement's perimeter. They probably don't need me out here on patrol, it isn't as though the place is undefended like my first week. It wasn't about security though. I need time to think, time away from the people down there. I've grown used to spending time alone again. Trying to sort my way through this mess with Alexandra, Preston, MacCready, and whoever else hovering over me wouldn't be productive.

I stopped just beyond the clearing surrounding their armored lookout shack and looked down on the settlement. I said I wasn't going to do this. I said I wasn't going to put myself in a position to hurt people I care about. That's exactly what I did by coming here.

And now what the hell am I supposed to do, leave? If I do that, I might as well put a target on Sanctuary.

As I watched, Alexandra began across the small wooden bridge leading into the hills. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

A few minutes later, she was walking toward me through the sickly trees, dry dirt crunching under her boots.

"Care to share?" the woman asked as she came to a stop, brown eyes drilling into my visor.

Care to share what?

I cocked my head.

Her mouth drew into a straight line. "Well you clearly don't want to be here, and it goes beyond Sturges and the Railroad. You aren't with the Institute anymore, you don't have Nate, and yet you were still trying to drop in and out. So what happened. Really?"

"I've operated on my own most of my life. This isn't new."

"Yes, but you've been with at least Nate basically since you got here. If you couldn't trust us after whatever happened between you and the Institute, I don't think you would have come back. So what is it?"

She's just like Valentine and Ellie: too goddamn observant for her own good.

"It was the best way to keep everyone safe", I replied with a shrug.

"From you?"

Yes. "From the danger I bring with me."

Alexandra frowned. "Bullshit. You know this fight was going to involve us sooner or later, don't play dumb with me Damon. What happened with the Railroad? If you're still willing to trust people, whatever's going on here doesn't have anything to do with Nate or the Institute. What did you do?"

My eyes narrowed as I stared down at the smallish, fiery woman. I don't need to answer. I could just walk away from the conversation. She wasn't going to let that happen though.

"Alexandra", I began slowly, but her patience was apparently at zero.

"First of all", she interrupted, "Alex is fine. Second, don't you dare patronize me. I'm not doing this for your benefit, not completely. If what happened with the Railroad has a chance to hurt this community, hurt my son, you're fooling yourself if you think I'm not going to find out about it."

Of course you are…

What was I supposed to say? It wasn't just the Railroad; I've made a lot of mistakes since coming here. Most- all of them have been because I've always dealt with things one way. That way doesn't work here. Hell, outside of being a SPARTAN, one almost universally tasked with lethal operations, it probably doesn't work for much of anything.

And that's the problem, isn't it?

But what's getting at me now is the Railroad. It's Cass, Tommy, and Julian.

And it is Nate.

I let out a long, slow breath.

"I didn't attack the Railroad because a few months ago, I recovered- rescued a few kids from a Supermutant camp. They'd lost their parents and began relying on Nate and me. The Brotherhood captured one and, after that, the only place we could take them was the Railroad."

Alexandra's expression had gone from pissed off to a curious frown. "And?"

"And…" I shrugged. "The Railroad takes Synths from the Institute, so the Institute wanted them dead. Making things dead is what I'm good at. I should have known they planned to ambush me, but I was preoccupied."

"You didn't want to do it", she mused, "but you felt like you had to."

… Sort of. I thought I had to. I nodded after a few heartbeats. "We'd been gone a few weeks and when we got back…" The look of comfort and the glimmer of happiness in their eyes still haunted me.

"When we got back Cass and Tommy were safe and comfortable." My jaw set as their expressions morphed into fear and, for Cass's part, anger. "That didn't last long."

"Uh-huh", Alexandra- Alex hummed. "So you're afraid you'll do something to us? Are you planning on betraying us?"

I shook my head.

A hint of that same fire bloomed in her eyes. "Then what's the goddamn problem? You fucked up, but no one ended up dead. It's something you can still fix, so quit your bitching and fix it."

I stared down at the woman. Her expression was as unyielding as the side of a mountain. Those words weren't far off what I told Jake when I brought him home after my run-in with the Forged.

It is… remarkable how simple that statement was. And how right it is.

She's never been one to mince words. I huffed and looked back down at the settlement. I know that of course.

"What?" Alex asked- almost barked up at me.

"Nothing", I said, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. I felt myself straighten ever so slightly. "It's nothing. I guess that's something I needed to hear."

She gave a curt nod. "Glad to hear it. I'm sure you came up here to be alone and think. Now that you don't have to concern yourself with whatever pity party you were having, think about what we're gonna do next."

Without waiting for a reply, she marched back down the hill toward Sanctuary.

Amanda would like her. A lot.

So… think about what to do next. Realistically, the best thing for Preston's people would be to expose them to combat. Real combat. How am I going to do that?

Plan fights so they can gain experience without putting them at risk.

Any engagement with hostile forces carries some risk, and the best way to minimize that…

A spark of amusement flitted through my head.

Yeah… I can do that. They won't like it though.

X

Instead of spending the next few hours walking the settlement's perimeter, patrolling for potential intruders, I spent it scouting the settlement itself. While the place was better fortified than it had been the last time I was here, the lookout locations were largely the same. It didn't seem like they used the raised platforms for their watch, which was good. That meant any intruder would have to make it past well-hidden, hardened positions, and they wouldn't be offering any obvious targets.

The flip side of that was they would have limited lines of sight and fields of fire. Lookout towers have been around since someone figured out it's easier to see things from an elevated position. They were much more logical when ramparts and castles were a staple in warfare since you couldn't be shot in one from a klick away with no warning.

Even so, modern defenses still used them, and I'd contended with countless outposts that had them. Most of the Brotherhood positions in the area use lookout towers too. Sometimes they were good, sometimes they were bad, but if you can find a way to not use them for patrols, your people are safer.

How Preston's people got around that was the fortified shack they'd built on top of the hill to the north of the settlement. It had its own drawbacks though, namely, since it was armored, there was very little visibility south, primarily there for a defensive position from an attack in the hills.

It still posed a threat to anyone attacking from the south, which means any competent commander would want it dealt with first. Moving down the hills, especially without being noticed, would still be damn near impossible with the approach exposed to the settlement though…

If it came down to it, the Brotherhood also had the benefits of air support and T-60 power armor, which was apparently both radiation-resistant and waterproof. That means the river was an option for them too.

As a plan formed in my head, I wandered back to the Vault Nate and Nora had taken shelter in when the bombs fell. The rusted, collapsing fence around the area was exactly the same as the day I'd arrived here three and a half months ago. The same went for the small office and the multitude of shipping containers.

None of it should have been any different unless the settlers had come up here and messed with it. I doubt there's anything useful here after over 200 years of decay though.

Why does it feel like it should be different then? Why does looking around at this refuse, further testament to how this version of humanity blew itself to hell, feel wrong now?

My eyes wandered to the large cog-shaped platform that acted as the fallout shelter's entrance. I could still see the interior of that place, dark, and decaying, dead bodies frozen in their cryo-pods, decayed remains of whoever had staffed the facility. The best word I could think of was foreboding.

The Covenant would be proud. The bitter thought passed through my head like a whisper, so quiet I almost missed it.

This won't help. That was 200 years ago, what matters now is figuring out how to fight this war with these people's help.

Slowly cutting off Maxson's supplies was still the best option if they didn't want me burning the fields. I could still make it look like sabotage, and I could still act as a decoy to keep them above suspicion for as long as possible. The more damage I'm able to do to the Brotherhood before they go after Preston's people, the better. Plus, there's the Institute and Nate. For as inexperienced as their fighting forces are, they've done well, against the Brotherhood at least. I need them to do better though because Maxson's forces are going to start adapting, and if they don't, that fight won't last as long as I need it to.

Then there's this splinter group that the ex-soldier is apparently a part of. I don't have any intel I can act on there, so until I gather more, I can't assume anything.

My plans weren't as thoroughly thought out as I normally like, but I need more information from Preston before I can nail anything down. Tonight's exercise would be informative.

I smiled as I turned from the Vault and began back toward the settlement. This reminded me of the 'real world sims' Katrina liked so much. This time though, I'd actually be getting shot at. That will be interesting…

At the same time, this exercise would be important. I don't know how to expose Preston and his people to the type of fight they're in for other than doing it. Making it feel real, down the uncertainty of what's really happening, is important. It may be a bit dramatic, but that never stopped my trainers. Hell, sometimes they used that to make a point.

That's what I'm doing here...

The Minuteman was at the house they'd built into their common area, eating with a few others I didn't recognize. The small group all stared at me as I approached their table.

"Hey Damon", Preston said, sounding wary. His hat was off, which is the first time I'd seen that. He had closely shaven brown hair that looked like it was more stubble than anything else.

"I'd like to talk."

He looked around at the other settlers. "Do you mind giving me a few minutes?"

Shaking my head, I marched back to the front of the settlement and gave their defenses there one more look over. Hopefully, whoever attacked wouldn't have the benefit of inside knowledge about their fortifications, but we can't count that out. The Brotherhood managed to insert or flip a group in the Institute, there's no reason to believe they can't or haven't done the same thing here.

Footsteps began toward me from the north and I turned to see the Minuteman heading my way, hat back in place.

"What's up?" He still sounded suspicious.

"I want your best people on patrol tonight."

He blinked. "Why?"

This won't be effective if I tell you.

"If I'm going to stay here, the risk of an attack goes up. The Brotherhood and the Institute are smart enough to know you don't have night vision optics, and they both do." At least their more advanced units do. "We'll need to be careful."

That damn well may have been the best lie I've ever told. Maybe Nate rubbed off on me more than I thought.

"Uh-huh." Preston didn't look convinced.

It's the best lie I've ever told.

"Do you really think they're going to attack us just because you're here? How would they know?"

I looked at the hills to the north. "If they're smart, they have eyes on every major settlement in the area. We weren't followed, but that doesn't mean there's no one watching."

Preston smiled. "Major settlement huh?"

"Hub."

"Whatever. Are the Brotherhood and Institute that interested in you?"

"Don't know", I said, shrugging. "The Institute will know I have Andrew. The Brotherhood probably want me to stop ambushing their supply lines. This is the first time I will have given them a static target." I canted my head and looked down at the Minuteman. "Which is one of the reasons I don't want to be here."

He waved the statement away. "Yeah, yeah. We don't need you here long term." The dark-skinned man's face grew serious. "That being said, a lot of people in Sanctuary trust Sturges. Doing what you did… he doesn't trust you anymore, and that means a lot of people don't trust you."

Add them to the list.

"It isn't something I'm proud of."

Preston grunted. "If it was, that would make you a pretty terrible person. For what it's worth, I think you doing the right thing, eventually, means something. I also don't think you're the type of person to play the long game."

My eyes narrowed. That felt like a backhanded compliment, but I couldn't tell.

"You mean I wouldn't be here to exploit you?"

"Yeah", the minute man said with a nod. "Your style is more 'shoot you in the face'."

Only when doing it in the back wasn't an option, but I get the point.

"Fair, so what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I trust you."

"I'm saying I trust you"... I didn't know how to respond to that. Obviously he trusts me, or he wouldn't have asked- told me to stay, but he was willing to trust me, and say he trusts me when, by his own admission, most people here don't? That seems like a major risk for the leader of a settlement to take.

Even so, hearing him say it was… well it was a relief.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Trusting you got us this far. No reason to stop now." He smiled. "At least not yet."

Right.

"Speaking of, have you come up with anything?"

"Am I the only one planning?" I asked, cocking my head.

"No, I'm not saying that, but you do have a plan. I can't imagine you spent the last five hours wandering around up there", he waved at the hills, "doing nothing."

I shrugged again. "The framework of one. I'll need more information before I can say anything for sure."

"Such as?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Number and experience of your fighters, resources, and positions to start."

Preston frowned. "Don't know any of that off the top of my head. I can get it for you though."

"Good. I'll need that tomorrow."

"Why tomorrow?"

"There's something else I need to take care of tonight." I glanced at the wall, blocking the view of the dead trees and destroyed city to the south. "If anyone's going to attack tonight, I'd like to get a head start on them."

That, of course, wasn't the real reason I'd be outside the settlement. It was extremely unlikely anyone came calling tonight, even if they intended to. Maxson is smart enough to keep his recon forces' footprint as small as possible, same with Shaun (or Nate). That's why I haven't been able to track down many of either. It also meant there wouldn't be a strike force ready to move on Sanctuary which meant time. At least one night."

Preston nodded. "Yeah, I get that."

As the former Minuteman turned to walk back to the main street he paused. "It's actually kinda funny, you being back here after everything. We didn't think that would happen."

Neither did I.

"Agreed."

X

I tried to not be disappointed. Besides the occasional Raider, Sanctuary's guards didn't have to worry about much by way of threats. At least not yet.

Even so, the fact I was able to get across the small clearing around their fortified shack on the hill and plant my 'charge' on it without being noticed was… disconcerting. It wasn't more than five minutes before I had circled back to the northeast edge of the settlement. Now, crouched behind a small bunch of trees, peering toward the watch positions on the opposite side of the narrow river, I couldn't help but recall the Brotherhood patrol patterns. They'd left their flank toward the water unguarded as well. Or relatively unguarded.

Preston's people had it even worse; there was no one watching this side of the settlement. Against a conventional enemy, that's fine. Against the Institute, or the Brotherhood, or me, that's a death sentence. Since they have to worry about two of those groups attacking them, this would be a good way to get that point across.

As the street behind the wall finally emptied, I slipped from my visual cover and down toward the water's edge. Even if there had been anyone in the street, they wouldn't have seen my dark blue armor against the black shadows cast by the trees. Not unless they had NVS. That wasn't the only reason though; it meant I'd be able to make it further into the settlement before I made contact. It worked for my purposes, putting as few people in harm's way as possible, but if I was attacking in earnest, I'd be that much deeper into their fortifications before going loud.

Stepping into the water, I was careful to angle my armored boots so they wouldn't splash as they fell beneath the surface. Easing myself in, the odd, silty texture of the riverbed reminded me of when I did this to flank the Raiders.

The bank was steep and, besides having to shuffle down sideways to maintain my balance, before I was three meters from shore, my head dipped beneath the surface of the irradiated water.

From there it was another 15 seconds to traverse the slick, silty riverbed, and I was emerging on the other side, effectively in a blindspot for the patrol.

Yeah, this was definitely a weakness we'd need to address. An experienced defender would have people stationed here, especially with the relative abundance of manpower they have in the settlement. Very few novice attackers would think to use something as dangerous as the river to their advantage, but if they have the right gear, and know what to look for, any perceived strength can be used in either direction.

The wall was another issue; it was constructed almost at the shoreline. There was nothing on the other side of the fortification, which meant they could turn that area into dead space. Anyone doing the same thing in the future would have to cross open ground, even if it was only a few dozen meters.

Now… they probably didn't have to worry about attackers jumping over the wall, but anyone worth defending against would have climbing gear.

I didn't and I doubt the barrier would hold my weight anyway. It was just over three meters tall which would be a stretch, but I could make it.

Once I extracted myself from the water, I skirted along the fortification until I found a spot dry enough to avoid slipping and leaped.

The ground gave ever so slightly, but it wasn't enough to throw my trajectory off. I cleared the wall and, as I came down on the other side, tucked into a roll to soften the landing. The nearest building was a half-reconstructed house about 10 meters toward the settlement's main street. The nearest person in sight was one of their guards walking their route through the center of Sanctuary.

From my scouting that day, I knew there would be at least one guard about 20 meters to my right, and several more interspersed along the wall, watching the opposite bank.

As this was an exercise, I didn't want to injure or kill anyone, but they needed to think I might. It wouldn't do anything for their trust, but these people need to know what it's like to go up against a real threat.

I slipped my knife from its sheath under my left arm and skirted to the west along the wall, careful to avoid stepping on any rubble or brush. For the most part, they'd done a good job clearing the perimeter of hazards.

Within 10 seconds, I had the first guard position in sight. There were two men and one woman in one of the mostly intact houses built into the wall. It was fortified, but they hadn't done any repairs on the building's side. That meant I could see straight through most of the house. One, the woman, was watching the perimeter, another was lazily scanning the area around the house, and the third was…

My jaw set and I felt my grip tighten around my knife's hilt. The guy was sitting in a chair feet kicked up on a goddamn box. This mfer's supposed to be on guard at night and he's lounging?

Maybe I take a few more liberties with him, and his cohort. They were allowing that behavior after all.

Setting my armored boots down as gently as possible, I crept around the side of the makeshift guard post and into the side of the house. They didn't notice me until I was directly behind the target of my ire.

I wrapped my arm around his throat, careful to balance cutting his air supply off without crushing his neck. He grabbed at my armored forearm, but I'd already sapped him of his ability to shout. The second man, standing less than a meter away, just started turning when I stood, the first one still clutched against my chest, and drove a knee into his stomach. The blow wasn't hard enough to damage anything, but it did knock the wind out of him. He dropped to the ground, heaving as I surged forward and stopped my knife a millimeter from the woman's throat.

She stared up at me, wide-eyed, mouth open. I shook my head.

"You're going to stay here, quiet until I say otherwise", I whispered. "Understood?"

"Wha- what's going on", she breathed, voice barely audible.

"A test. Now, do you understand?"

She nodded hesitantly and I lowered the first man to the ground. He was barely conscious, but he'd be fine in a few minutes.

A quick glance at the one I'd hit told me he'd be alright too. He was glaring at me now from his spot on the floor, chest still heaving for breath.

Hopefully that would teach them something.

This wasn't over though, I still have three more positions to neutralize.

Slipping out of the house, I continued down the wall for another two dozen meters before I reached the next post. This one only had two people at it. No one was kicking back, at least.

When I snuck into this house, I dropped the first guard, a short, well-built man to the ground with a well-placed blow to the back of his knees. Placing a boot on his back, I leaned forward just enough to drive the air from his lungs and, again, brandished my knife to the remaining guard.

They agreed, reluctantly, to remain quiet, and I moved on to the third position. That one went just as quickly, and so did the fourth. In total, I 'neutralized' 12 people along the wall. There were a half dozen more patrolling the main street, but now that the perimeter guard was dealt with, avoiding them would be easy enough.

I placed another half dozen 'charges' around the settlement before slipping into the house Preston called his. The man was asleep in one of the bedrooms when I entered.

Time to fix that.

This may have been a bit dramatic, but this is a point that needs to be demonstrated. He wants to get involved in this war? He needs to know what that means.

Crouching beside his bed, I wrenched him onto his back and pressed my knife into his neck.

"Quiet", I hissed as his eyes shot open.

They were hazy and unfocused, but they widened as he recognized me, looming over him in the dark.

"Damon", he said groggily. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Demonstrating what you're getting into." I pushed the knife a little deeper into his neck, the blade on the verge of breaking skin. "You want a war you aren't prepared to fight."

The former Minuteman didn't respond. His eyes were locked on my visor. His breath was coming in rapid, shallow gasps, and I could almost hear the man's heart trying to beat from his chest. He was scared.

"I want everyone awake and assembled on the main street in five minutes."

With that, I stood and turned to leave.

"What the fuck is this?"

"I'll explain when you do what I told you", I replied.

"I'm just supposed to wake everyone up? Now?"

I glanced back. "You asked for my help. This is me helping you."

It took more than 10 minutes for Preston to rouse everyone in the settlement and assemble them on the main street, closer to 20, actually. I stood by their common house and watched as the half-asleep settlers slowly trickled toward the small building. I wasn't doing this to be difficult. Aside from clearly needing to be better prepared to respond to a threat at night, they also needed to understand anything can happen at any time.

As more gathered around me, things began getting… uncomfortable. They all kept their distance but I was surrounded by people, most of which I didn't know. My mind was screaming to move, to find cover, but that isn't what I'm here for.

I'm here to help these people, not fight them. They aren't the Brotherhood or the Institute- they aren't enemies.

My eyes found Alexandra and Julian in the small crowd as they made their way toward me, looking as tired as everyone else. Alexandra's frown had a healthy dose of irritation in it too.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"You'll find out in a minute", I said. I found myself taking a page out of Mendez's playbook: don't play favorites. Everyone here, regardless of whether I know them or not, is going to be involved in this. They don't need to see or hear me giving preferential treatment to the ones I do know.

Fourier would definitely be proud of me now. As usual, the thought made me want to puke.

"I'll find out in a minute?" she asked, exasperated. "What the hell are you talking about? What is this?"

"I'm waiting for everyone."

The woman clearly didn't like that answer, but she didn't argue.

Eventually, Preston walked up, more awake, and upset, than anyone else.

"Now care to tell everyone here why you decided to sneak into my room, put a knife to my throat, and make all of us come out here in the middle of the night?"

I nodded. "Where are your guards?"

The Minuteman's eyes narrowed. "They're on guard."

"Get them too."

"I thought you said we were at risk of being attacked."

"Not tonight. Anyone interested in attacking because of me would take more than a few hours to plan it." I motioned toward the wall. "Get them."

He hesitated an instant longer, but eventually relented and went to gather the dozen guards. When he returned with them, the expression on his face was different… troubled.

"You attacked them?" he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yes." I looked at the 12 men and women I'd 'neutralized' during my infiltration. "I subdued them without anyone raising an alarm." I reached into a pouch and pulled out another one of the 'charges', a small black box. "There are seven of these around the settlement and one up at the shack. Each of them represents an explosive." I held Preston's gaze for several silent seconds as he continued to glare at me.

"If this were real, everyone here would be dead or dying. You want to get involved in a war you aren't ready for."

The anger on the former Minuteman's face melted into concern.

"You're saying you did this to show us that?"

I nodded again. "Experience is the best teacher."

"So, what", Alexandra said from beside me, "you're saying we need to stay out of it?" There was an edge on the question.

I would prefer that. That being the case, Preston was right; with the way this war is going, the outlying settlements are going to get involved eventually.

"It would be better if you did, but you will be regardless of what I want."

"And this is your way of introducing us to it?" Alexandra looked around at the assembled settlers. "Seems like you could have done this better."

"Experience is the best teacher", I repeated, glancing at the group of guards. With their sagging postures and refusal to meet my gaze, it wasn't hard to guess what they were thinking.

Valentine cleared his throat. "Man's got a point. We wanna do this, we better do it right."

Anything worth doing… I nodded to him. "I'm going to prepare you to fight a war, but that means I need your complete cooperation." I met Sturges' gaze. "That doesn't mean I'm demanding your trust. I need to earn that, the same way you need to earn mine."

This is something I'm going to do. Alex is right; sitting around feeling sorry for myself isn't going to get me anywhere, and that's what I've been doing for the last month. People are out there who need me, and I have people I need. Hiding from that just because I'm scared I might make a mistake again isn't me.

I've made enough mistakes for a lifetime. Making mistakes is something I've tried to drill out of myself and, in combat, I'd say I've been successful.

Now it's time to stop making mistakes where it really matters.

Notes:

So Damon's at it again. Something I've really focused on, more so since chapter 21 and the ambush, is the difference between our SPARTAN's proficiency in fighting (and a lot of things that go along with it), and the rest of his inadequacies. In my mind, that would make sense; he's been little more than a weapon for most of his life. Now though, he's asking questions, especially about trust, and his impact on the world around him as much as the actions he takes. Obviously he's really bad at it, but I think exploring that is a lot more interesting than a story where everything is solved by an OP main character massacring everything in sight (though a lot of that happens here tbf). But… I think that's all the nonsensical rambling you get today, I'm off to drive for the better part of a day again. See everyone next time!

Chapter 43: What's Most Important

Judging by their sluggish movements and irritated stares, I'd guess most of the settlers didn't get much sleep after my 'attack' last night. Problem is I don't know if they're worried about the right thing. Are they upset at me or are they concerned with how easy it would be for an experienced, well-organized force to hit them? While I'm no savant at reading people, my guess would be option one.

As I walked back through the settlement toward its armory, my mind was going through the various improvements they'd need to make to their fortifications. Against most threats in the Commonwealth, their relatively well-armored walls, hidden watch and firing positions, and the hardened houses would be enough. That isn't what they're facing though. Not only are they going to be targeted by the Brotherhood at some point, but if Nate decides he wants to test my warning, the Institute could be a threat too.

Changes to their perimeter wall, more firing positions with rotating watches, and a perimeter guard would be a good start. More than that though, they're going to need to change the way they work and fight. This isn't just going to be static defense. If they think they'll be able to sit in Sanctuary and wait out whoever ends up finding them, they're going to lose. That's to say nothing of other settlements in the area that will be getting involved too.

Right now, I need to find Preston and talk about exactly what improvements need to be done.

"Damon!" Someone called from my right.

It was Ellie. She was sitting with Alex and another woman under their common building's carport.

She waved me over. Why? Is this about last night? Alex was clearly upset, but having that conversation now wouldn't do any good. What needs to happen is-

"Stop standing there staring and get over here", Alex said. She didn't sound angry but I'm here to find Preston, not talk with them. Having a 'social interaction' didn't sound all that appealing to begin with.

Ellie looked from me to the small blue house they'd turned into their armory. "If you're looking for Preston, he's busy this morning. He and a few others headed north to another settlement."

… Of course he did.

Which now means I don't have a good excuse to ignore them.

I could ignore them anyway.

And say what?

There's no need for me to stay here at all times. I could say I'm going out to scout the perimeter, make sure no one's getting curious and heading this way.

Yes, I could do that, but I already did that.

Or I could attack one of the Brotherhood outposts on the west side of the city. Now my radio's gone silent, it's more than likely they've encrypted their transmissions. While I intended to do that to find more explosives, figuring out their new comms protocols might be more useful.

And I just told them six hours ago they need to figure out how to fight. I want their cooperation, and, for what it's worth, I also want their trust. Leaving now would be a great way to sabotage both.

Great…

Ellie smiled as I began toward them. Alex's was more of a smirk. I still didn't recognize the third woman at the table with them. She was younger than both with short cut brown hair and an angular face.

"Well well well, the soldier boy decides to join us after all", Alex said and motioned to a… I'm not sure what it is. The thing was a half meter tall with four very sturdy metal legs. It almost looked like a stool, but there were clearly some sort of strike marks on a thick steel top that was wider than the legs.

"We borrowed that from Sturges", Ellie said as she watched me study it.

Really… I cocked my head at her. "How long have you been waiting here for me?"

She exchanged a glance with Alex. "Oh… not long. Why don't you have a seat?"

Leaving's still an option…

Despite my head screaming at me to find an excuse, they'd call anything I came up with. Not only am I a terrible liar but by this point they know I'm looking for Preston.

Dammit.

Slowly lowering myself onto the makeshift stool, I glared at Alex.

"What's this about?"

The woman frowned. "Why does this have to be about anything? Maybe we just wanted to talk."

Which is what worries me.

"About?"

The two older women laughed.

"See?" Alexandra said, looking at the third. "Once you get past the fighting, there's nothing to worry about." She turned back to me, still chuckling. "This is Anna, by the way."

Anna, who was smiling now, nodded to me. "I've heard stories about you."

Did she want to meet me? Why…?

I looked at the two other, still chuckling women. Or is this something they did on their own? What stories have they been telling about me? About how we met? About getting to Sanctuary? The last time I was here, they'd told me stories were already circling around the Commonwealth, was it some of those?

"Damon", Perkins interrupted my thoughts. She was frowning now. "You're staring."

Staring? "I'm thinking."

"Yes, well, you're still staring."

Alex waved the concern away. "It's Damon, Ellie, he's good for one thing, and it isn't holding a conversation."

The secretary nodded. "That's true."

"But…" she continued, "I do want to ask you a few questions."

Oh, here we go. "About?"

"Two things. First: when you say you're going to teach us how to fight a war, what do you mean by that?"

"That's what this is going to turn into", I said. "The Brotherhood and Institute aren't just going to fight each other, they're both coming after me. If you're determined to align yourselves with me, that means you'll get involved too." I shrugged. "And Preston is right. Whoever wins, they're going to assert control over the rest of the Commonwealth. At that point, your choices will either be to fall under their rule or fight back."

"Who do you think would win? Between the Brotherhood and Institute, I mean."

It was a good question. Conditions are changing so quickly it's hard to tell at this point. Safe to say, if it weren't for Nate and his experience the Institute would be at a massive disadvantage. As far as an outright war goes though, the Brotherhood would still win. That isn't taking into account the technological and logistical advantages the Institute has though; they can produce everything they need in their facilities, and they can teleport resources and people anywhere they need them.

"I don't know yet but whoever wins would be, by far, the most effective fighting force in the area."

"Hmm", Perkins hummed. "So you think our only chance is to get involved while the fighting is still going on."

"Yes." I nodded.

"Is that why you agreed to help us?"

"No. It seems like you already know a fight against whichever force wins would be a losing effort, which is why you intend to get involved."

Alex nodded.

"That's why."

She huffed. "Ah yes. Damon: the man with a heart of gold."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the small smile that slipped across Ellie's face.

"You'd be surprised", the secretary muttered.

Would she? I'm no paragon of virtue. "I'm only doing this because I want to."

"That's fine", Perkins said, still smiling. "We didn't wave you over to interrogate you about your reasons for helping."

Is that so? I met Alex's gaze once again. "What's the second thing you wanted to ask?"

"That was Anna's question."

The younger woman suddenly looked extremely nervous as the three of us turned to her.

"Wha- you're gonna make me say it?" she asked, face as red as the morning sky.

Ellie nodded. "It's your question. Are you afraid to ask?" The question almost sounded like a challenge. Are they using me to haze her?

"Well- yeah it's my question, but I was just curious, I didn't-"

Alexandra's smile turned devious again. "What's the worst that could happen?"

After a brief pause, Anna blinked and suddenly she was glaring at Alex. "You spent aaall last night telling me about how the first thing you ever saw Damon do was kill a bunch of Raiders."

The mischievous smile didn't disappear. "That's right, I did. We've already established that's the only thing he's good for. Do you think he'd get angry and attack you?"

Now I'm starting to get confused. What the hell is going on? Sure, I understand people being nervous about me. Plenty back in my universe were uncomfortable around SPARTANs. But does she really think I have so little self-control I'd attack her for asking a question?

"What's your question?"

Anna almost jumped as I asked.

When she hesitated, Alex snorted, amused. "She was wondering if you enjoy doing anything besides fighting." She turned to me. "I told her you enjoy being a pain in the ass."

Do I enjoy doing anything besides fighting? That's… a good question, and one I haven't given too much thought. If-

"Yes, I know it's hard for you to answer", she continued. "For example, I like farming. Abigail's been a huge help, and it's nice to know", she pulled a piece of fruit from her plate, "I'm eating food that I grew. Ellie?"

The secretary offered Anna an apologetic smile. "I've discovered an affinity for working on new inventions with Sturges. Turns out keeping records for that mess of a detective", she allowed herself a short laugh, "makes one better at thinking about practical solutions, according to our resident Synth. What about you, Anna?"

"I…", the other woman trailed off, face still cherry red, staring at me. "Why do I have to share? I wasn't asking about any of you, or me." She nodded toward me. "I was just wondering about him. I didn't know you were going to drag me into this."

"Because I thought this would be a fantastic opportunity for everyone to get to know each other", Alex replied, shooting me a smile.

Of course you did.

"And I agree", Ellie added. "I won't pressure you into saying anything if you don't want to though."

Anna blinked slowly, eyes still fixed on me. It seemed a little irrational for her to be this worried about my reaction. What did she think I'd do?

Maybe she doesn't know, and that's what's making her nervous. I'm an unknown. All she knows about me is I'm good at making things dead.

"No, it's fine", she said after a few seconds' pause. "I'm good at building. Sturges put me in charge of designing our walls", she pointed toward the hill behind me, "the lookout up there, the raised platforms over the houses. I- I really enjoy it." As she spoke, it seemed like she was simultaneously swelling with pride and trying to fade into invisibility.

That being said, I was surprised. Not that she was good at design and construction, but that Sturges and Preston trusted one person with their fortifications. They were amateurish, but for someone with little to no experience in static defense, they were very good.

"Did you have experience before coming here?" I asked.

Her eyes shot wide. Why was she surprised? What she enjoys doing is related to what I do, and it's something I now have a vested interest in.

"I-" she shook her head. "Not really, but Sturges did have some recommendations based on what happened in Quincy. We also managed to dig up some reading material about pre-war military bases."

While that would definitely help, reading about something and implementing it in the real world are two very different things.

"I think you impressed him", Alex said. The statement was only half teasing.

Impressing me isn't what she needed to worry about. That test comes when someone attacks this place. At least I could talk with her about some of the changes that needed to be made to their fortifications. Hell, if she's been the one working on the defenses so far, she's better equipped to handle the design and logistics than I am.

"Now that we're all a bit more comfortable", Perkins said, pulling me from my musings once again, "what do you enjoy? Outside of fighting."

What do I enjoy besides fighting? Memories flashed through my mind of days- weeks in real-life sims, alone in forests, on mountains, exploring. Climbing to the rim of a large valley, sitting on a rock shelf, and eating peanuts from an MRE while looking over the 30-kilometer wide bowl as the sun broke over the horizon to my right. I don't remember what planet that was on, but I do remember climbing through the night specifically so I could have that view in the morning.

There were more.

The first time I remember going to space. I was three or four at the time. Staring out the window of our shuttle… I don't remember anything about the journey except watching the bright blue of the sky fade into the inky blackness of space, the vibrant stars beyond coming into view out in the vacuum of space.

While I was in training, during any number of the sims, I made a habit of building… more intricate shelters than I probably needed. There was a lot of trial and error, and more than a few times they'd come collapsing down on me.

But as time went on, I got better and better. Once I even made one in the mouth of a small cave. It was impossible to see from the outside and the door I'd made from two layers of thin branches even had a latch. I spent entirely too long making it, but that was a shelter I was proud of.

"I enjoy finding a good view." My eyes drifted back to Anna. "And I like building things."

A cautious smile drifted across her face. "Like what?"

"Spent a lot of time alone in unforgiving environments. Building shelters became as much a hobby as anything. Also building traps-"

"That's related to fighting", Alex interrupted.

I shrugged. "Or hunting."

Ellie chuckled. "He has a point."

"What?" the other woman asked, mock anger in her voice, "you're gonna take his side?"

"I'm agreeing with whoever's right."

Alex frowned. "Whatever."

"Uh…" Anna mumbled before either of the other two could continue their fake argument. "Do you mind if I ask something else then?" I shrugged again. "What's your favorite view?"

My favorite view? That would probably be the first time I saw space. It's most likely in part because it was with my parents instead of ONI, but it's also the first memory I have of going off-world. Even if mankind had been a space-faring species for almost six centuries, I can still appreciate the spectacle.

Sharing that information with them… felt wrong. Talking about personal things, it didn't get me anywhere good last time, especially personal things that have to do with my family, with my life before the attack. That isn't to say I'm not glad those memories are back, but discussing them wasn't something I wanted to do.

Not again.

"Hey", Perkins said. She was looking at Anna but I caught her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. "Let's not push our luck, okay? This is the first time he's talked about anything but fighting since I've met him. Don't want to twist anything in his head too hard, we need him for fighting."

Alex laughed again. "Yeah, probably a good idea. Soldier boy only has so many words he can say in a day before his brain overheats."

The three of them began chuckling. Ellie knew what I was thinking. While most of what I talk about is fighting, the secretary has been around for more than that. It was odd to have her cover for me, maybe she didn't want my reluctance to come across as distrust, even if that's what it is.

And it seems like they enjoy making jokes at my expense.

Anna, still smiling, met my gaze again. "You said you enjoy building things, would it… be alright if I bounced a few ideas off you? Not now, of course", she added hurriedly. "Just, you know, some time."

The plan was to discuss changes with Preston, so I'm sure I'd end up talking with her anyway. It would be a good opportunity to learn; I know what I've taught myself about construction, but that's mostly with rigging together whatever I can find. This more organized version could be valuable in the future.

"There are some changes I'd like to make to the current fortifications", I replied. "I intend to discuss that decision with Preston first, but I'm guessing you'll be brought in."

The woman nodded, her smile broadening. "Yeah. Mr. Garvey has me handling most of that now."

Mr. Garvey? I cocked an eyebrow behind my visor. That's the first time I've heard someone call him that.

"When is he supposed to return?"

"Not sure", Alexandra replied, shrugging. "The settlement he went to is about a half-hour north of us. Left about an hour ago… they'll probably be back in another hour. Maybe a bit more."

Ellie stood. "Well, if that's the case, I'm going to grab Sturges. The three of you can take a look at what changes Damon wants to make."

The cautious curiosity on Anna's face instantly melted back into alarm. "What? Why?"

"If you're going to be involved in the adjustments, might as well get a head start on it."

"Bu-"

Alex placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be there to make sure Soldier Boy doesn't do anything to you."

Even though it's obvious they were giving her a hard time, two questions came to mind: why was Anna so nervous around me, and why were Ellie and Alex so comfortable. Yes, they've known me for a while now, but after what's happened, I haven't given them any reason to trust me. Have I?

Before I could ask, the secretary had already begun toward Sturges' workshop.

Whatever their perspective, the engineer wouldn't be happy with the request. He was, justifiably, still pissed. Were they doing this to get him to relax around me again?

If that's the case, it brought me back to my question: why do they trust me?

"What do you think's gonna happen Anna?" Alex asked as she finished whatever she was eating.

"I- I don't know", the other woman said, gazing at me.

There was a mixture of wonder and that all too familiar apprehension in her wide eyes, the stiffness in her neck and her shoulders, and the way she was fidgeting with her hands. People in my universe treat SPARTANs like they're something other than what we are: soldiers. Yes we're augmented, yes we're trained, yes we have Mjolnir, but that doesn't make us anything besides soldiers.

This felt the same. People look at me as though I'm something more, like I'm some… icon.

I've always hated that.

Maybe saying there's nothing special about us that didn't come out of vial would be wrong, but the… unique circumstances that produced the IIs and IIIs don't mean anyone should look at us with the fear and awe they do. The damn near reverence people, especially civilians, in UNSC space think about SPARTANs with. The people who know me, Alex, Ellie, Preston, Sturges…

Nate.

They know that's stupid, they know that's wrong.

Don't they?

It's possible doing this with Anna might help.

How?

Showing her there's no reason to be afraid. No reason to admire me.

It isn't a bad idea…

"How long have you been responsible for the fortifications?" I asked.

Anna blinked. "In charge of the fortifications…? Uh, well, I started working with Sturges and Mac about two months ago. After they saw I had an eye for this sort of thing, they decided I should be in charge. That was about… three weeks later I guess."

That would have been around the time the Brotherhood ambushed Nate and me, and we made it to the Institute. So she's been involved in a lot of the construction then.

"Where have you been scavenging the material from?"

"Oh, there are plenty of places around here to get it: we used most of the cars here, at least the ones that hadn't rusted into the ground. The gas station", she pointed to the south, "had five or six of them at it, plus the station itself. And then up at the Vault, we've taken apart five of the shipping containers they had up there." She shrugged. "There have been a few runs we've made to other neighborhoods that hadn't been settled, but those have been rarer. Too dangerous."

Good, resourceful. Most of the materials they'd use to build the walls wouldn't stop anything powerful, but then I guess it depends on how they're constructed.

"Have you done any ballistic testing with them?"

Anna nodded. "Me and Sturges did some when we decided to redo how we build the walls." She smiled. "He told me you helped them come up with the armor plates they put in the houses. I thought it would be a good idea to test those. They held up okay, but we made a few changes."

Huh… that's a good start. It was something I hadn't had the chance to do back then. Or something I thought about, really. Making them thick enough to work on a small scale was all I was worried about. I didn't think about how they'd scale to a larger fortification like the wall.

I nodded. "That's a good idea."

"Ooooooh", Alex cooed, gently elbowing the younger woman in the arm. "He likes you."

She frowned. "What are you talking about? He's just asking me questions about my work."

That's true, I was, but this interaction was starting to amuse me. At least she isn't afraid to give Alex her bullshit back.

The older woman shot back an exaggerated frown of her own. "Fine then, I was just trying to make you feel good."

"Sarcasm isn't how you do it."

Before Alex could respond, footsteps from behind me drew my attention to Perkins leading an unhappy-looking Sturges toward us. He was glaring at me.

"Alright", the secretary said as she came to a stop beside me. "Why don't you three talk about the changes you want to suggest Damon, Alex, and I have some things to handle."

So they're leaving me alone with someone who's angry at me, and another who's half-scared of me.

Great.

"Uh-huh", the other woman said as we all stood from the table. She didn't seem happy.

"Yes. We'll start by hauling that", Perkins pointed at the makeshift stool I'd been using, "back to the workshop."

"I can do it", I said, reaching down to grab one of its legs.

"No, no-"

"Ellie", I interrupted. "I'll take it back."

She frowned at me but nodded. "Suit yourself." The relatively well-dressed woman waved to Alex. "Come on, Vincent wanted to ask you a few things about how we'd set up that settlement on the way to the farms."

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded as well and the two of them started toward the east end of the settlement.

Were they planning on this? No… there were too many ways this conversation could have gone. They saw an opportunity and jumped on it. Whether it was a genuine attempt to smooth things over between me and these two (why they chose Anna, I'm not sure) or if it was something else, I feel like they're getting amusement out of my discomfort.

I don't appreciate when the schadenfreude is at my expense.

Sturges cleared his throat. "Take my worktable back so we can get this over with."

He sounds about as excited as me.

Carrying the small worktable, apparently, back toward the rear of the house he'd set up as a workshop, I deposited it under the large cover he'd erected and we headed toward the perimeter wall.

Anna began discussing the changes they made to the steel segments and, the more she talked, the more animated she became.

"They're still sandwiched together, but we found staggering the materials helped during our ballistic testing. The outer layer is a mixture of the hardest metals and ceramics we could find. That helps break up the bullet and as it penetrates through the other layers, they'll catch it. From what I understand, it's how composite armor worked pre-war."

Sturges nodded. "Yes. We weren't able to find the same material to layer along the outside of the wall, so we scrounged up a few different types that were as close to each other as possible. Best we figured during our testing was it'd stop armor-piercing rounds coming out of that." He pointed to the MK-18 on my back. "There are a few sections we made thicker that'll take on bigger stuff, but we don't have the material to do it all the way around."

"Right", Anna continued, "but we've also been working on a few ways to improve that too. With more and more settlements helping us out, we should be able to pool resources and make it better." She rapped a knuckle against the wall. "Don't get me started on how long it took us to figure out a better way to put these together. That was a mess"

Before she could say anything else, Sturges cleared his throat and, when I met his gaze, he was wearing that suspicious frown once again. "What are you wanting to change?"

"The wall along the southeast corner that's up against the river needs to move back, you'll need more firing positions, and if you have any spotlights those need to be mounted."

There was a moment of silence before Sturges snorted.

"Oh right", he muttered. "Just move the wall. We'll get right on that."

You don't have to like it. "It's a weakness." I nodded toward it. "That's how I got in without being seen."

The engineer glared at me. "Any other changes you want us to make? So far we have move the wall, make more firing slots, mount and wiring lighting…" He motioned to small armored perches they had on a few houses. "What about those? Wanna tear them down and remake them?"

I cocked my head at him. "You're aware I'm trying to help."

"Yes… You're trying to help. I know what that looks like."

Really? You know what that looks like? Does it look like me saving you? Twice? Does it look like me taking out that group of Gunners? Does it look like agreeing to stay and help keep everyone here safe? Yes, I screwed up with the Railroad but, in the end, I did the right thing: I left. I left despite the fact I wanted to be the one to keep Cass and Tommy safe. I left because it was the right thing to do at the time.

"Does it look like the few dozen Raiders I killed to keep you all safe when we first met?"

"Yes", Sturges replied, voice icy, "you helping looks like dead bodies, Damon."

He's right about that at least.

"Not the Railroad's."

"That doesn't-"

"No", I cut him off, shaking my head. "It doesn't change it. I went there to kill them. But I didn't." I stared the smaller man down for a few silent heartbeats.

This is something I need to figure out myself before I have Sturges start berating me over it again. Alex had her own opinion on the matter, which I'm starting to agree with, but she doesn't personally know the people in the Railroad. Sturges is upset and I can't blame him for that, but I'm here now and, unless he wants this place to get attacked by the Institute, Brotherhood, or both, we need to work together.

"You know I don't expect you to trust me so don't waste time arguing about it."

The engineer's eyes narrowed but, after a moment, he nodded.

"Well then…" Anna ventured. She was watching me with a curious frown. "I can start putting plans together to construct a replacement wall. Shouldn't be too hard, we already have the designs. Few hours at the most."

"I'll get to work with Ellie and Hugh on wiring up the lights", Sturges said. "We have a few we can use, just need to come up with telescoping mounts so we can raise and low 'em."

It wasn't a perfect plan and more improvements could still be made, but it's a start.

What's more is I have at least tacit cooperation from Sturges. That's a start too.

The next few hours passed quietly. I ended up hauling materials from one of the houses on the northeast corner to where Anna wanted to begin construction. The other settlers involved seemed to appreciate the help, if mostly because I halved their work.

When it was all laid out, the supplies didn't seem like anywhere near enough.

Anna wasn't concerned. "We've got more up by the Vault. Sturges and me will head up there tomorrow to cut one of the shipping containers down." She smiled. "It'd be damn nice to have your help dragging that stuff back here."

It isn't like I have any plans at the moment. "We'll see."

"From what Alex tells me, that's about as encouraging as a thunderstorm around here."

She was trying to make a joke, but whether she thought it was bad or thought I wouldn't understand it I didn't know. Either way, she was presenting an opportunity that I wasn't sure I wanted to pass up. Even though I just met the young woman, she seemed competent and motivated. Besides… as Fourier loved to point out every chance he got, I could do a little more work in the PR department. Maybe I didn't care enough to socialize with most people back in my universe, but these people are different if only because of circumstance.

And maybe I like them a little more.

I cocked my head and silently stared at the brown-haired woman. After a few seconds, she began frowning and, after a few more, that frown grew uncomfortable.

"Because… you know… radiation…?" She chewed on her lower lip. "I'm trying to say-"

"Alex told you when I say 'we'll see' it generally means that thing won't happen. I know."

She blinked, opened her mouth, then blinked again. The other settlers were watching. If the quick glance around was anything to judge by, they were curious.

"Are you… messing with me?"

After another short pause, I shrugged. "I'll let you figure that out."

Without waiting for another reply, I started back toward the center of Sanctuary. I hadn't seen Preston return yet which was odd considering Alex said he'd be back in an hour three hours ago. That isn't necessarily cause for concern, I don't know what they might be doing, but it would probably be a good idea to ask.

When I found her, she was with Owen, Valentine, MacCready, Vincent, and another woman I hadn't seen before in the armory.

"Wow Damon", she mused, "that's some good timing." Alex motioned at MacCready and the other woman. "These two just got back from the settlement Preston went to this morning. They were hit by a band of Raiders three days ago."

Is that her asking me to find them? Raiders are pretty high on my shit list. I wouldn't be opposed to dealing with a group. "Do you know where they went?"

She shook her head. "We don't and we aren't talking about them. The settlement is just asking for some added security for a few days while they pick things back up. Sounds like they hunkered down pretty good, fended them off without losing more than a few people. A lot of their settlement was damaged though."

Added security? "How long and how large is the settlement?"

"It shouldn't take them more than two days to get things square away", MacCready replied. "We can handle it if you have more important things to do."

More important things to do… The former mercenary certainly knows how to aggravate me. Unless the Institute or Brotherhood come calling, which I doubt they will within the next week, there's nothing for me to do here besides sit on my ass and haul more scrap for the wall around. It might not be much better wherever this settlement is, but at least I won't be in the same place doing nothing.

"Are they already a part of your network?"

Alexandra blinked. "Our network?"

"No", MacCready said before I could reply. "That's why we were up there, trying to talk them into helping. Now we've got a shot." He frowned. "I don't like using a situation like this, but we can help those people as much as they can help us."

They're going to need everyone they can get.

"I'll go."

MacCready gazed at me for a quiet moment before nodding.

"We'll leave the others here then. Our friend here should be sufficient." He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Right?"

Defending a small settlement against a possible Raider attack?

"Yes."

"Alright, let's get moving."

X

When we arrived back at the settlement, a small neighborhood not unlike Sanctuary without the river, Preston seemed surprised to see me. Granted, he wasn't as surprised, or alarmed, as the settlers who had to be placated by him and MacCready. There were 30 or so people in the 12 houses. It was set at the end of a long, heavily damaged road surrounded by forest. They'd cleared a large section to the north of the settlement where they had various crops growing and all of it was surrounded by a fence. That fence, about a meter and a half high and constructed out of wood, looked like it might be useful for keeping out small wildlife.

As most of the settlers gathered around me, all staring at me with either suspicion, confusion, or both, I started thinking coming here was a mistake. Among the settlers were a half dozen young kids. All of them were gawking at me in amazement. I don't need this sort of attention and they seemed more nervous than was healthy.

"Everyone", Preston said, standing beside me, "this is Damon. He helped us set up Sanctuary a few months back, wiped out the Raider gang that attacked us, and is helping us set up some new defenses now. He's a friend and he's here to make sure everyone stays safe."

One of the settlers, an older man with a closely shaven head wearing a red flannel shirt and jeans that looked like they needed to be retired a few decades ago, stepped forward.

"You're workin' with the Brotherhood?" he asked in a thick, drawling voice.

The Minuteman shook his head. "Nah Greg, he isn't with the Brotherhood. It's…" the dark-skinned man glanced up at me, "complicated, but they don't like him either."

"Where'd he get that fancy armor from then?"

I was starting to get the feeling these people were suspicious of everything and everyone outside of their little piece of the Commonwealth. Probably not a bad thing considering the circumstances.

"He from the Institute?"

"No he's…" Preston paused and, though he wasn't looking at me, even I could see he was flustered. He hadn't expected me to show up. That's something I should have considered before agreeing to come. It isn't like I could walk away now and everything would be fixed. They'd still have questions, ones with answers that wouldn't do anything but make things worse.

Telling these people I'm from another universe, transported here by some kind of wormhole technology I don't understand in the slightest is a horrible idea.

"I can't tell you exactly Greg because I don't know, not everything. I can tell you Sanctuary wouldn't exist without him and most of the people there would be dead." He shrugged. "When's Abigail and Abraham coming up here next?"

The plump man blinked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Ask 'em how they know Damon." A smile slipped across his face. "It's a good story."

"They've joined you guys too", a man that looked like a younger, more fit version of Greg said. "Who's to say they don't play along?"

I squinted at the collection of settlers. That question was ridiculous, even by the standards of the Commonwealth. What the hell is going on here? Conspiracism about a small collection of settlements that, according to Preston, has maybe 500 people? Do they have a conspiracy about anyone not in their community?

Standing around wouldn't get us anywhere. I'm here for security, not to be pestered by random people coming up with wild, unfounded ideas. Even if the truth is far stranger than they'd ever guess.

While I should have known exposing my cooperation with Sanctuary to other people would be met with doubt, this is ridiculous. From the sounds of it, I should have left security up to Preston and MacCready and helped with the fortifications.

Turning to the Minuteman I said, "I'm going to recon the area."

Preston cocked an eyebrow at me but nodded. "Mack, take Steph and head out with him"

"Got it", the ex-mercenary replied.

The two of them followed me away from the collection of settlers crowding around Preston.

"That went well", the woman, Steph, muttered as soon as we were out of earshot.

MacCready grunted. "Yeah, that was a dumb idea on my part." He glanced up and, for the first time, grinned at me. "Hey, you wanna meet my giant killer robot friend? He's friendly, I swear."

Steph laughed. "Better than if you told them about Sturges."

"Did you know they might react like this?" I asked.

"Didn't think about it, really", MacCready replied with a shrug. "Greg and his people were one of the first settlements we contacted after we decided we wanted to build a community." He smirked again. "They've been convinced the entire time we're an Institute plant trying to get them to cooperate for some kind of experiment."

We exited the fenced-off area and headed toward the south edge of the oblong clearing.

Trick them into cooperating? If the Institute wanted to use them for an experiment, they wouldn't need to trick them. I cocked my head.

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" he trailed off and a frown drifted across his face. "But when you live in isolation and you're only told one thing your entire life, it becomes reality. Doesn't matter if it's true or not."

The melancholy he said that with and the wistful look on his face… he was speaking from experience. I don't know if I can say I've had the same. Sure, I was trained and conditioned to do one thing, but somewhere in the back of my head, I always knew what I was doing. I always knew what ONI was doing to me. Maybe that's why, even when I was working for them, I hated ONI. No… 'hated' isn't the right word, but if I could get away with putting my handler in the hospital, I probably would have.

He was a heartless asshole, even by my standards. As far as I could tell, all ONI intel officers are like that. Probably have to be to do what they do. 'For the good of humanity' or whatever the hell Baker would say.

Sounds a lot like that Institute shrink and her 'For the Greater Good'. Difference was Baker knew he was full of shit, ONI does what it does for power.

"Agreed."

"You… have experience with that?" MacCready ventured, voice guarded.

"I do", I replied with a nod. "It's why I'm who- what I am." I shrugged. "Don't know if I ever believed what I was being told. Didn't care as long as I got to hurt the things that hurt me." Even if they weren't my primary targets…

"At least you were smart enough to realize that."

I huffed. "It wasn't intelligence. They knew they didn't have to convince me to do what they wanted."

There was a moment of silence as we entered the woods and began pacing a perimeter around the settlement. Everything was calm and, besides the trees swaying gently in the wind, everything was motionless. Wild animals, even irradiated ones, seem to have the same tendencies as the ones I'm used to from my universe: they don't like being around people. Besides, now that the world is destroyed and humanity is scattered, they have plenty of room to live without contacting us.

Someone else might say it's peaceful.

"Do you… still think like that?" MacCready asked eventually. He was awfully curious all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you and I both know you've killed a lot of people. It doesn't sound like you believed the justification the people you work for gave to you so…"

So…? I glanced at the former mercenary. "I don't work for them anymore. And I didn't need their justification for doing what I did." Doesn't mean it was a good one though. There were plenty of Innies that deserved what I did to them. I don't know how many didn't though. And they weren't the Covenant. "I'm still figuring out why I do it now. It's what I know but…" I trailed off. I know what I want to say 'it feels different now' but would that fly?

"But what?" Steph asked. She was watching the two of us with a curious frown.

"For now I'm content saying it's to help Sanctuary." And Cass, Tommy, and Julian.

The two of them fell quiet again, the only sound was the dry dirt crunching underfoot and dry leaves and branches being ruffled by the wind. With the sun beginning its descent toward the western horizon, the shadows were beginning to grow long, and its light was turning orange.

"Works for me", MacCready said eventually. "As long as that doesn't change."

"There's no reason it would."

The rest of the walk was spent in silence. I had the two of them spread out to maintain better spacing but, while I would have preferred to do this alone, didn't send them back to the settlement. They need to learn how to do this at some point.

Or at least Steph does. MacCready seemed like he already knew what he was doing: his footsteps were light, he stuck to visual cover when he could, eyes alert and scanning the forest.

It made sense Preston had gravitated to him for security advice.

About 20 minutes in, when we reached the northern edge of the settlement, I found evidence of their fight. Footprints blanketed the area along with spent shell casings from a variety of weapons and a dozen patches of blood. All of them had trails leading north toward… wherever this band had come from. Five of the blood patches had the imprints of a body, drag marks leading away from those.

There was too much overlap to tell how many had attacked, but I spotted at least eight different kinds of shell casings. They ranged from small pistol brass to rifle and shotgun empties.

The attackers didn't make it past the perimeter fence into their farms though, which was impressive.

My gaze wandered to the settlement. The people living there were wandering around again, cleaning up, repairing damaged houses…

One was digging.

They put up a good fight.

MacCready studied the mess of compacted dirt and splashes of blood with a dangerously neutral expression. He was mad, extremely mad, and doing his best to control it.

That's something I can relate to. While I don't know or much care for these people, they'd been attacked without provocation. By Raiders.

After about 45 minutes, we reached the southern edge of the settlement again, and the sun was almost touching the treetops to our west. Preston was waiting there for us looking distinctly unhappy.

"Wasn't expecting you, Damon."

A pang of guilt shot through my head.

"They didn't seem friendly."

The former Minuteman held my gaze for a few seconds before relenting with a sigh. "No, they aren't. Greg, the settlement's leader, is suspicious of everyone. Still isn't sure I'm not an Institute Synth sent here to kill them or something." He rubbed his face. "Then you show up and I'm stuck trying to describe an inter-dimensional supersoldier to them."

I allowed myself a small smile.

"Doesn't sound like that went well", MacCready said. He sounded a lot less amused.

"It didn't", Preston said through his hand. "But they've agreed to let us stick around and make sure no one comes knocking while they clean up and pay their respects."

They agreed to let us play watchdog? That sounds awfully grateful.

"How long?" I asked.

"They want us gone by tomorrow night. I'm okay with that unless you have other ideas." He dropped his hand away from his face. The dark-skinned man's expression said he didn't expect me to.

He's right.

"That's fine."

"Great. I'm gonna go get us some food. How do you want to do this?"

The settlement doesn't have much by way of perimeter lighting. The only things I could see were a few burn barrels. It doesn't look like they have electricity out here. I've heard of people like that in UNSC space, civilians who live off-grid to stay away from the UNSC's eyes. Or ONI's. Why would people here choose to do that?

Whatever, it doesn't matter.

Without NVS, the three of them wouldn't be very useful in the forest tonight. New moon and what little starlight there is wouldn't get through the trees.

"Stay in the settlement, provide close support. I'll be out on the perimeter."

Preston nodded. "Sounds good to me."

The three of them paced back toward the settlement as I began another lap of the small village. Why does Preston want to help these people? They're clearly not interested in joining their network

It wasn't all bad though; the night of scouting would give me time to think, something I need to do, badly. After yesterday, my plans are up in smoke and I need to figure something out. Something that involves Sanctuary and their other settlements. And how to prepare them for whatever comes next between them, me, the Institute, and the Brotherhood.

… That sounds like a lot of work.

The night passed without incident and, as the sky brightened and, eventually, the sun peeked over the trees, I headed back toward the settlement. I'd scouted to half a klick around the place and found no signs of an upcoming attack.

More importantly, I had a few ideas for how to start preparing Sanctuary. No plans had formed but that's understandable considering I've never planned for untrained civilians to be part of my strategies.

Several of the kids I'd seen the day before were waiting at the fence, staring at me as I approached. They were young, maybe Tommy and Julian's age. All of them had shaggy hair, were covered in dirt, and wearing old clothes that probably should have been burned a decade ago.

What struck me the most was their expressions. I've been around young kids, both here and in the UNSC. The ones in the UNSC always responded to SPARTANs with wonder; I'm sure they'd all seen the propaganda the UNSC wraps us in. The ones here were a mixture of wonder and fear.

These five were suspicious.

Each of them looked like they'd rather throw the rocks lying at their feet at me than let me pass. Narrowed eyes, firm set jaws… anger in their stares.

These are kids, they respond to what happens in the world around them. They weren't born into this, their parents are responsible for the animosity they were sending my way.

It reminded me of the few times I'd run into kids during missions to attack insurrectionists. One, in particular, stood out. It was in… I think 2553 and ONI had tasked me with eliminating a small outpost. It turned out to be a community constructed in the wilderness of some outer system planet. Fundies. Fundies who believed in the Covenant.

It was at the end of the operation. With most of the Fundies dead, the leadership had surrendered.

But then a kid, maybe a little younger than I was at the time, 13 or so, came screaming at me, charging me with a knife.

He was a threat so I eliminated him.

The community members didn't like that, but an ONI corvette was already hovering a klick south of the settlement. There wasn't anything they could do about it.

Even then, back when I was just as closed off as I had been after the Covenant attack, that felt… odd.

Now that these kids remind me of it though… What was the difference between the kid lying on the concrete, the back of his head missing, and me? I'd probably killed his parents, just like the Covenant had mine. Almost a decade of training, augmentations, resources, and a government powerful enough for me to get away with it?

The quintet of kids didn't move as I walked past them. They only continued staring. I could feel their eyes drilling into my back as I headed toward the houses where Preston, MacCready, and Steph were waiting inside.

Damn… What if Julian ends up like that? Or the Fundie kid I'd killed?

No. It doesn't matter what the Brotherhood does to him. My mistakes are why he's in their hands now. Pulling the trigger on him is a no-go.

Period.

What about these kids though?

X

We left shortly after noon. It was hard to see what Preston was trying to accomplish in that settlement. At any given time, I had at least half a dozen people- armed people- watching me. They weren't interested in cooperating with anyone.

As with the journey there, and the time in the settlement, the walk back was spent mostly in silence. Unlike the prior 18 or so hours, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. That's probably a good thing; Steph and MacCready weren't tense around me, at least not as much as most of the settlers in Sanctuary had been the day before.

It only took us about half an hour to return to the settlement and, when we did, Preston waved me toward the armory. "Hey Mack, can you give us a few minutes?"

The former mercenary nodded without his customary hesitation.

"Thanks."

I got the customary looks as I entered the settlement, but people seemed hard at work. Several were pulling makeshift carts covered in steel plates, while others carried tools and other supplies. Seems like they're already at work on the changes we discussed yesterday.

Once we were inside, the smaller man removed his hat and set it on the table. Running a hand over his short cut hair he groaned.

"That went well."

"Why are you helping them?"

He frowned up at me. "What?"

"They aren't going to. What's the point of continuing to try?"

"That…" Preston blinked slowly. "I know they aren't going to join, but that's what we- the Minutemen did, we helped people when they needed it. They're a small settlement isolated in the middle of nowhere. We're the closest, the Finches and their people are the next closest, but they won't take help besides food."

"So if they don't want help, why give it?"

"Because they're just trying to survive like everyone else. Isn't that why you're helping us?"

"No", I replied, "I'm helping because…" Because I want to? Why do I want to?

Preston's frown deepened. "Because…?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." That sounded right but… it still didn't quite fit.

"Well", the former Minuteman said, "helping them is also the right thing to do."

I guess you could argue that if you're going to say everyone deserves the help.

My mind flashed back to the young kids staring at me that morning, anger in their eyes they probably didn't understand. They were told to be suspicious of anyone outside their community, so they were. They deserved it, didn't they? Help? Do their parents, the people who made them like that?

Someone had to make them like that too, right?

That one I'm not so sure about. I've met enough Innies to know some people just are that.

"Mayb-"

The sound of pounding footsteps from outside caught everyone's attention. It wasn't just one set, there were a few dozen, all heading toward the south end of the settlement. No gunfire but that didn't mean anything.

I bolted for the door, slipping past everyone else and out into the afternoon. There were several people still on the street, each now missing their supplies, now carrying a firearm, most heading into houses. I followed the ones heading toward the main entrance.

As I neared, I saw Alex standing beside the closed door with Julian and a half dozen others. If they were responding to a threat, they were too close to the wall, and too close together.

"Move back and spread out", I ordered. I got a few hesitant glances, but they complied.

Following Alex to the house directly in front of the door, I crouched beside her, watching the entrance for whatever had everyone spooked.

"Situation?"

"I'm… not sure. There's someone dressed in Brotherhood gear on the far side of the bridge. They asked to talk with Preston, but haven't said anything since."

Preston? Yeah, the last thing I'm gonna do is send him out there to get shot. If this was the Brotherhood, that was trouble, if it was someone pretending to be the Brotherhood, that was also trouble.

I shook my head. "No. Have them remove their gear, leave it on the far side of the bridge, and approach the door."

The woman shot me a glance. "Am I a negotiator now?"

"Congratulations on the promotion", I said before making for the nearest guard position. I need to get eyes on our guest and, while I'd prefer to slip out the north side of Sanctuary to see if we had any others lying in wait, I don't have time for that, and there's no telling where they might be.

"Sure, no problem. Ass", I heard Alex mutter as I left.

Preston passed me with a few others including Owens and MacCready. They all shot me questioning glances, but I don't know enough about the situation to tell them anything. I waved toward Alex but didn't stop.

When I arrived at the first firing position, three settlers were there. It was a mostly intact house they had built the wall into with steel plates ringing well-disguised firing ports. As I crept into the building, one of them, a lanky, middle-aged man, looked at me with a concerned and confused frown. I motioned at his firing position. The guard looked from me to the half-meter by half-meter square before slowly nodding.

"I don't know who you are", Alex shouted from behind the wall, "but drop everything except your clothes and cross the bridge. Slowly."

As he retreated from the port, I settled in behind it and peered through-

Haylen?

It's been a while, but I'd recognize her diminutive frame and sharp features anywhere. She was one of the few Brotherhood members I thought might actually be worthwhile. Did she have anything to do with the ambush? With trying to capture Cass, Tommy, and Julian?

"All I want to do is talk", she called back.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do. If you wanna talk, you do what I say. We aren't one of the small, vulnerable farms you guys have been taking advantage of."

The scribe didn't respond immediately. Instead, she was gazing at the settlement, probably studying its fortifications. It wasn't a surprise she knew Preston was Sanctuary's leader; the scribes are both the secretarial and intelligence members of the Brotherhood. While it may not be a major settlement like Diamond City or Goodneighbor, Sanctuary was relatively large, and its influence was growing. I'd be disappointed if they didn't know everything they could about it.

I couldn't see anything in the surrounding forests and fields behind her. If there were more Brotherhood soldiers out there, they'd be in hiding.

This seemed off though; why would they send Haylen, a low-level scribe? If they wanted to negotiate, they normally sent a 'delegation' of power-armored knights and paladins. Usually accompanied by Vertibirds. Maxson liked to lean on people, show them he had the resources to do whatever he wanted. It's a good strategy given the conditions.

So how does this work? How does a lone scribe show up with no obvious escort?

Haylen began stripping everything until all she wore was a pair of oversized combat fatigues, boots, and a t-shirt.

"Alright", she shouted, "I'm coming across."

What the hell is going on here?

Whatever it was, I need more information, and I'm not going to get it sitting here. Plus, now that I know the threat probably isn't imminent, taking time to make sure the area is secure is priority number one.

I slipped out of the house and back over to where Alex was, behind the dilapidated hulk that still mostly resembled a house. Preston was with her; he looked as confused as I felt.

"Do you think they know you're here?" the man asked as I stopped beside them.

"No, they'd come in a lot harder if this was for me."

"Okay- okay." Preston glanced at the door. "We're going to let her in, search her, and question her. Do you want to be here for that?"

"I'm going to scout the perimeter, try and figure out what's happening."

"I can send Mac-"

"Next time", I interrupted. "Too much risk and I haven't had time to patrol with any of your people. This is the Brotherhood."

The former Minuteman grimaced. "I gotcha. Then let us know what you find, I guess."

With that, I nodded and turned for the north end of the settlement. I started with the hills above Sanctuary, sweeping out a perimeter 200 meters around the shack, leading up to the Vault.

Nothing.

There was nothing on either slope either and, making my way down the hill and across to the south side of the river, there was nothing there either. If any Brotherhood soldiers were in the forests within a half klick of the settlement, they were doing a phenomenal job of hiding their presence. Hell, I even took the time to search the lone, crumbling gas station on the south side of the river. T-60 is about as unsubtle as it gets; if they were around, I should be able to find some sign, but there was nothing.

And that just made me more suspicious. What the hell was Haylen doing here on her own?

Only one way to find out.

By the time I was done with my sweep, the sun was nearing the western horizon. The back of my head was tingling, like the feeling I always get when I'm being watched. I couldn't tell if that was paranoia, or if someone really was out there.

Before I crossed back to the hills north of Sanctuary, I scanned the water for any potential threats. It would take a monumental lapse in their security measure for someone to sneak into the river but…

Or would it? The T-60 is water-tight and hardened against radiation. What if they slipped into the river up or downstream from the settlement and walked along the riverbed? I'd have to give them some credit for ingenuity if that's the route they took, but it still wouldn't make sense, especially given they have air support and superior weaponry. None of this fit the Brotherhood's MO.

Just to be safe, before I abandoned my search, I slipped into the river too and spent 15 minutes clearing the riverbed.

And still nothing.

Now alarm bells were screeching in my head.

My only option is to talk with Haylen then.

I extricated myself from the river and snuck back up the hillside before circling back down into the settlement. The streets were still empty when I arrived, save the dozen guards walking them, watching for an engagement that… I wasn't sure was coming. Did Haylen really come here alone?

Stopping one, a tall, lanky woman I asked, "where are they?"

"In there", she replied, pointing toward a house on the northeast corner of the settlement. "That's our holding area."

With a nod, I started toward the house. Why was Haylen here? Why was she alone? Did she go AWOL? If that's the case, why did she come to Sanctuary? Why would she specifically want to talk with Preston? If she was AWOL, why did she still have her gear? Wouldn't she want to ditch it so she didn't look so conspicuous?

As I neared the house, Preston marched from the dark interior straight toward me. His eyes were narrowed, and jaw set.

"She's looking for you", he said, voice worried. So that wasn't irritation, or at least not irritation leveled at me. He was concerned the Brotherhood was already coming after us.

Me? The Brotherhood knows I'm here? Why the hell would they send Haylen then?

"Did she know I was here?"

The dark-skinned man shook his head, oversized hat swaying as he did. "No, she just said she wanted to get in touch with you about something urgent and this was the only way she could think of to contact you." He squinted. "I told her I'd let you know, but until you did, she'd have to stay there."

Something urgent. What the hell is going on?

"Get everyone out of the house."

"You aren't talking to her without me."

I didn't think that was distrust. I'm not sure what it was, but the concern was understandable. I nodded and he followed me back toward the house."

Inside, Valentine and MacCready were standing with Alex. Behind them was the Scribe seated in a chair that looked like it was ready to collapse, her eyes going wide and mouth dropping open as I entered.

"You- you're here?" That surprise seemed genuine enough.

"Can you give us some space?" Preston asked the others.

Valentine nodded. "You got it." He and Alex left, but MacCready lingered a moment, glancing back and forth between Haylen and I before finally relenting and marching out behind the other two.

"Damon… I didn't think you'd actually be here I-" her mouth drifted closed as her brow furrowed. "I'd hoped I'd get a little while longer to think about what I'm going to say."

"Why are you here, Haylen?"

The scribe's eyes dropped to her boots and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I need help."

That… wasn't what I was expecting.

"I need help with something and- and I don't know who I can trust." Her voice was wavering like the scribe was fighting to hold back tears.

"You're with the Brotherhood", Preston said, "why are you here, asking for help from us?"

"Because I…" Haylen trailed off, her eyes still glued to the cracked, and corroded floor.

The former Minuteman opened his mouth to say something, but I waved it off. I may not be an expert with social interactions, but I am pretty good at extracting information. Just like with those Gunners, sometimes it's better to let the person talk on their own.

Silence blanketed the run-down house, oddly well matched with the setting sun's amber light streaming through the windows and walls. The sounds of activity from outside drifted in as well, but that didn't intrude on the quiet surrounding the three of us. Whatever Haylen was here for, it was something she's struggling with. There are times pushing someone in a fragile emotional state will only make things worse, especially if you want their cooperation. Haylen is a person who had been with the Brotherhood for a while; even if it isn't completely her choice, I want her cooperation.

"I was wrong", she said eventually, voice barely a whisper. "I was wrong about everything."

"I need more details."

When she looked up to meet my gaze once again, her eyes weren't bloodshot or filled with tears, they were glazed and lifeless. The slack muscles in her face and jaw, the almost deadened way she stared at me, it was the picture of dejected.

"The Brotherhood- they…" A small frown drifted across her face. "You were right about them… what you said. They- they aren't what I thought they were."

The young scribe was working through something, she just needed a push. "During the ride to West Everett Estates?"

She nodded absently. "I thought I joined them to do good. To be good but…" Haylen inhaled sharply, drawing herself up ever so slightly. "There are good people in the Brotherhood, but Maxson, the direction he's taking it, I can't follow. What's the point of fighting for the 'good of the people' when we hate people just because of what they are? When we hurt them, force them to give us food and supplies, and use the excuse we're doing it because we're there to protect them? What makes us any different from the Gunners, or Raiders?"

The small, pale scribe trailed off again, and I saw a little life come back to her light blue eyes. They were studying me, looking for something.

The second question, about supplies, I understood that one. The Brotherhood wasn't exactly light-handed in their 'requests' for food from the local farms. The first though… hate people just because of what they are? She was talking about Synths but what changed?

"Who are you talking about?"

"Danse", she said, struggling to control the shake in her voice, "Danse is a Synth."

Danse is a Synth? I felt my eyes widen behind my visor. From what I knew, Danse had been with the Brotherhood for years. How the hell could he be a Synth?

"Bullshit."

Haylen chuckled. It didn't have any humor in it. If anything, it felt desperate, disbelieving.

"That's what I thought at first when I found out. I don't know how Maxson learned Danse is a Synth, but he did. The only way I figured it out was when they transferred me to Paladin Marsaul."

She exhaled and her eyes dropped to the floor again. "I didn't understand what was happening, but that wasn't the first time I wondered about everything and I- Marsaul brought me along for negotiations with a dozen or so of the settlements we need more food from. They weren't negotiations. We came with a full squad of soldiers in power armor and a Vertibird. We forced those people to give us more food."

I glanced at Preston. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set. Those could have been his people. Soon enough they will be.

"And what you said- implied about the Elder, that he would have attacked you if you didn't align with our goals, even if you weren't with the Institute. I started thinking about that. He told everyone you betrayed us, that you were with the Institute, trying to spy on us."

He wasn't completely wrong.

Haylen rubbed her eyes. "We treat everyone like a subordinate or an enemy, and there's no tolerance for any sort of deviation from Maxson's plans." She looked up at me again. "I joined the Brotherhood because of what they did in the Capital Wasteland, Project Purity, defeating the Enclave." The lost-looking young woman shook her head. "This isn't that Brotherhood."

So Danse is, apparently, a Synth, and was most likely killed because of it. After that happened, Haylen started questioning everything she'd been told, everything she believed, and everything she'd done.

Sounds about right. It also sounded believable, especially given the lack of armed presence in the area to accompany her. Maybe having Ellie talk with her after this to get a better read on the scribe would be a good idea.

"Why did you want to talk with me then? I don't need you to tell me I was right."

She shook her head. "No, I came here because you're the only person I know outside of the Brotherhood."

I blinked. "You know I've been killing Brotherhood personnel."

The small woman's jaw tightened and a little more life flared into her eyes. "I do", she said with a nod.

"So why would you assume I wouldn't kill you?"

"I didn't, but I didn't have anywhere else to go, or anything else to do. I couldn't stay with the Brotherhood, not after- not after I realized how wrong I was."

Uh-huh. That part wasn't as believable.

"There are a lot of settlements in the area that could have taken you in. You came to Sanctuary explicitly because you knew I had a connection with them." Which is something I need to figure out. "You said you need my help. That means you either want someone found or dead. So why are you here?"

Haylen frowned at me. "If I went to any random settlement, the Brotherhood would have found me eventually."

I cocked my head. "You still came looking for me."

"Yes… I did." She took a deep breath. "I need your help finding Danse. I need to find him before the Brotherhood does."

They hadn't killed him when they found out the Paladin, one of their highest-ranking members, is a Synth? How does that one work?

That question wasn't the most glaring.

"Why?"

The scribe shrugged. "Because Danse is the reason I've survived this long. He's the reason Rhys is alive. Because-" Her voice caught and she paused to clear her throat. "Because he would do the same for me."

Loyalty? That's why she abandoned the Brotherhood?

No, that was the catalyst.

"How long ago was this?"

"Two weeks."

"And you know he's still alive?"

She nodded. "He left before anyone could apprehend or attack him."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"We were in the Commonwealth for over a month before the Prydwen arrived. He knows how to survive."

You lost most of your squad. That wouldn't be useful to mention.

So she lost faith in the Brotherhood and left after realizing Maxson is a narcissistic cult leader hell-bent on tearing apart the Commonwealth to destroy the Institute, consequences be damned. Well, I did suggest that's what the man was here to do, it only took her two more months to realize it.

Now all she has left is her loyalty to Danse who, despite him being a Synth, is the person she trusts the most. That's where her "what's the point of fighting for the 'good of the people' when we hate people just because of what they are?" comment comes in.

I guess the universe decided to give me a break for once. Not only did it drop Haylen into my lap, but she may be able to give me Danse too. More than that though, it gave me an opportunity.

"I'll consider it, but I need everything you know about the Brotherhood. And I want Julian back."

Haylen nodded. "I figured you'd want at least that. I can't get Julian out, but I know where he is and- and I know what the Brotherhood has been doing with him."

The soft thud in my chest as my heart felt like it bounced off of a rib made me wince. I didn't need her to affirm what I already knew they'd be doing to the kid. I need to focus on the mission, not the image of what my failure caused.

I nodded in return. "I want that before I agree to anything."

"They have him at the airport. He's an initiate now. There's a training and sleeping facility for the initiates in two of the hangars on the northeast side of the runways."

Yeah, that's a visual I didn't need. Julian couldn't have been more than eight, and they're training him to be a fighter. A killer. That's how you get the best soldiers…

"You're going to help me get him out."

Haylen's eyes went wide. "How am I supposed to do that? They know I went AWOL, they probably know what I'm thinking. I can't go back they'll-"

"You're going to help me get him out", I repeated. This isn't a topic of discussion, this is something she will agree to if she wants my help. The defeated expression on her face said she knew that.

"Okay- I- I'll help but it won't be easy."

Hitting caravans and small outposts is useful in a war, but this one is personal. I still haven't gotten payback on them for the ambush. "I'm hoping it isn't."

Her expression grew worried. "You also said you want to know everything I do about the Brotherhood."

"Yes."

"That's- I don't know if I can give you that. There are still so many good people who just want to do the right thing like I did. If you kill them then- then that means I helped you kill them."

Preston cleared his throat. "Look Haylen, the Brotherhood is coming after us, and Damon is going to help us with them. They're already at war with the Institute. No matter what happens, a lot of people are going to die. The better prepared we are to fight them, the fewer of our people die."

She shook her head. "That doesn't mean I don't want to protect some of the people still under the Brotherhood's influence. Many of them are my friends. I can't just consign them to death because Maxson wants to ruin everything our chapter used to stand for." By the end of her short tirade, her voice had gained some life once again. There was fire behind her words that, despite her small frame, convinced me she'd fight either of us over her conviction.

I can't torture her, that would mean I was forfeiting her help with getting Julian out. There had to be another way to get the information from her. Perkins is probably the best person for the job. Maybe Valentine too; he's a Synth, one that's been around the block. Maybe seeing one that can live with people peacefully will help convince her even more that Maxson's just a megalomaniacal lunatic.

There is one other question I need answered.

"How did you know to come here looking for me? Does the Brotherhood know I have a connection with this place?"

Haylen shook her head again. "No, that's something I figured out on my own."

"How?"

She shrugged. "I spent a lot of time in Diamond City after…" she frowned.

"After the ambush."

"Yes. Ran across someone who knows Nick Valentine and Ellie Perkins. They knew you were with them, and they knew the two of them came up here all of a sudden after you met us. Didn't take a genius to put two and two together."

Valentine told someone where he was going? I shook my head. That damn detective should know better.

"Who?"

"A woman named Piper Wright."

My mind stopped for a moment as it replayed the answer, making sure it hadn't received the wrong message. It didn't. He told Piper.

For her part though, it was a reasonable explanation. I can confirm that by talking with Valentine about his… lack of information security.

This all seems too good to be true: Haylen comes here specifically looking for me to help find Danse, knows where Julian is, and even though she hasn't yet, can give us intel on the Brotherhood. Part of me didn't want to believe something so convenient could happen. A much larger part did though. It would be my best chance to get Julian back, and a significant amount of intel on the Brotherhood. Nothing she said seems unreasonable, but I'm not the best person to judge that.

"I'll think about it", I said, "but you should reconsider giving us information about the Brotherhood."

Haylen nodded but otherwise didn't respond. She was still pale and, despite regaining some of the fire I'd seen in her when I was with the Brotherhood, seemed shaken. Questioning everything you've come to believe in tends to do that.

With the conversation drawing to an end, I turned to leave. Preston followed me into the now dimming evening.

"What are you thinking", the Minuteman asked as he swung the door shut behind him. Valentine and MacCready were marching toward us from the main common.

"Not sure, her story sounds reasonable."

"There's a history between you two?"

I shrugged. "Not really, but she's one of the few people in the Brotherhood I don't mind."

Preston cocked an eyebrow. "Wow, high praise. So who's Danse?"

"One of their highest rank soldiers. He was in command of the forward recon team they sent. Nate and I ran into them in Cambridge on our first trip to Diamond City."

"Ran into", the dark-skinned man said with a snort. "Anyone end up dead?"

"Almost."

"Impressive restraint. Her coming here on her own makes no sense, she isn't a big wig is she?" I shook my head. "Then it wouldn't make sense for her to be a negotiator. And no soldiers with her… Unless this is some sort of slow game, I can't imagine the Brotherhood is using her to infiltrate us. Right?"

She knew I was associated with the settlement, it could be a play for information, but then the last thing an intelligent commander like Maxson would do is send someone I know.

"Too many unknowns", I replied as Valentine and MacCready stopped beside us. I turned to the detective. "Who did you tell you were coming here?"

The detective blinked. "Who did I tell?"

"In Diamond City."

"Oh…" The grimace said he'd at least told someone, so Haylen hadn't been lying.

"That… I- I told Piper. She and I have been tight for a while, she agreed to take care of the office while I was gone but… you know how she can be…"

I cocked my head at him. "The one person you told was the goddamn reporter."

Valentine's grimace deepened. "Yeah, yeah, it was a dumb move, I got that."

"Alright", I said, exhaling slowly. "I want you and Perkins to talk with her. She doesn't want to give up anything on the Brotherhood, but we need her to."

The Synth nodded. "Can do, but I think tomorrow would be a better time to do it."

"Agreed."

"You aren't going to torture her?" MacCready asked. His voice was deadened enough, I couldn't tell if he was being serious, or that was a stab.

"I need her cooperation on something."

"Uh-huh." He didn't look convinced. "And what does she want?"

"She wants my help finding her old CO. Apparently, he's a Synth. I'm going to do it, having access to their knowledge is too good to pass on. There are a few things we need to handle first."

Strange thing about this is I don't know what possibility I'm more interested in: gaining inside knowledge of the Brotherhood or getting Julian back.

I glanced back in the direction of the house.

Yeah... I'm not sure.

Chapter 44: Promises

Standing in the corner of the house Sanctuary had turned into an impromptu prison, leaning against the wall, I had to wonder just what Haylen saw that would make her come to me. Yes, she told me her faith in the Brotherhood, in Maxson, had been destroyed, but to come looking for me of all people… It was an incredible risk, knowing what she does about my "relationship" with the Brotherhood. There's very little doubt in my mind Maxson and his leadership spread stories, images, maybe even paraded the bodies of my victims in front of their people. That kind of propaganda, while not technically untrue, is how those types of leaders rule: give their people someone to be angry at, someone to hate. When they came here, those were Synths. Now, I'm sure I've made the shortlist too. I couldn't say I wasn't at least a little pleased with the possibility.

Haylen also knew I've killed plenty of their people by now. I hadn't kept count, but I'd hit 15 of their caravans and 3 static positions. It was even possible she knew some of them. For her to come here… despite what she said yesterday, she knew I wouldn't shoot first; a Brotherhood Scribe willingly giving themselves up to me was too good an opportunity to pass up, but she had no guarantees I wouldn't torture her. I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind or hadn't constantly been playing in the background while I watched Ellie and Valentine poke and prod at her in a way I didn't have the patience for.

"It still doesn't make much sense to me", Ellie said, sitting beside Haylen with her hand on the Scribe's shoulder. "You were hurt, yes, but it seems like you still care for the people in the Brotherhood."

The young woman, hell girl might be more accurate, she couldn't be any older than me, nodded solemnly. "I do. Like I said, there are a lot of good people", she shot a glare at me, "and- I don't know, I just couldn't keep doing it."

"Huh", Valentine grunted. "It sounds to me like you came here for more than just Danse then."

She offered a weak shrug. "Maybe I did- it's so hard to say anymore. Everything… everything was a lie…" Her voice trailed off into silence.

When I glanced through the large hold in the wall to my left, I saw several settlers carrying material and tools through Sanctuary in the mid-morning sun. I'd spent most of the night before combing every millimeter of the forest around the settlement, looking for a scouting party, a transponder- anything that would suggest Haylen was bluffing.

Nothing.

Alex had brought her a change of clothes, the normal fare for people around here: clean but worn long sleeve shirt and a pair of fatigue bottoms. When I asked to search her clothes, the woman shot me a suspicious glare but she agreed, provided she was there to supervise. Right, because that's something I'm concerned about.

Nothing.

As far as I could see, the Scribe was telling the truth.

And that irritated me even more. It didn't fit in my model of the Brotherhood, of their dogmatism, of their strategies and tactics. I expect them to do something like this, to send a plant that could gather intel covertly. Hell, I don't know 70% of the people in Sanctuary now, any one of them could be an intel officer planted by the Brotherhood. It wasn't likely, considering they weren't on the Brotherhood's map, but the possibility always remained. One of their lower-ranking members risking their lives, risking torture to gather info on me seemed like something they would do but this wasn't that.

"That's completely reasonable, based on what you've told us", Ellie said, voice as soft and agreeable as it had been the day she talked with me. Or 'to me' I guess is the better descriptor. "This isn't something you can shut away or overcome in a few weeks. I've seen what this sort of doubt and uncertainty does, you have to be honest, if not with any of us, then with yourself. You can't beat yourself up though; if you do that you'll only make things worse."

I turned back to the trio as Haylen met Perkins' gaze. "What do you mean? I went along with this for over a decade because I thought I was doing the right thing." Her jaw set and she looked at me again. "I was doing the right thing. But then- then it all changed. It all changed and I just don't know where it changed."

Ellie nodded. "And you can't expect to know. You don't have to figure this out yourself. You're looking for answers, we're all looking for answers." She followed Haylen's gaze to me. "Damon is here because he is too."

My back stiffened and eyes narrowed. Where is she going with this?

"Damon… is looking for answers?"

"Yes. He's here, instead of with the Institute, because they wanted him to do something he didn't agree with. He hasn't told me as much, but I've known enough mercenaries, and even met a few old Brotherhood members, to know orders are orders." She gave me a small smile. "He didn't follow them because he thought it was the wrong thing to do. Damon, obviously, doesn't have the healthiest method for finding those answers, but the fact that he decided to go against everything he's been taught means he's at least trying."

I allowed myself to relax. She hadn't revealed anything important. Whatever Perkins was getting at, as long as that remained the case, she could continue.

Silence fell over the small house, the only things intruding on it were conversations drifting through the open door and multitude of breaks in the walls, and the sounds of construction. Haylen's eyes kept dancing between Perkins and me, a deep frown on her face.

Eventually, the Scribe blinked and looked back at the secretary turned shrink. "So… you're saying I have another reason for being here besides finding Danse, and I'm still looking for it?"

"Yes and no. I wholeheartedly believe you when you say you want to find Danse; he's a superior who seems to have earned every bit of your trust." Ellie offered another gentle smile. "The way you're talking about the Brotherhood though, it sounds like you want it to do something about the things you see wrong with it. Plus, if you only wanted to find Danse, there are plenty of good trackers around you could hire, ones with a much lower profile than Damon."

"I-" Haylen's eyes began shifting between her and me again. "I don't know it's- you think I want Damon's help to fix the Brotherhood?" Finally, her glare settled on me, and some of the fire I'd seen back in Cambridge was there once again. "Damon wants to destroy the Brotherhood. Why would I want his help with that if his solution is to kill all of them? Kill everyone I know, regardless of whether they're good or not."

Ellie's eyes shifted to me for an instant before she turned back to the Scribe. "I don't know, but I think you were looking for something, and Damon is the only person you know who has stood up to the Brotherhood besides the Institute." A frown drifted across her face for an instant. "And I don't think you'd go to them under any circumstances."

"You've got that right", the girl muttered.

"Can you do me a favor, Haylen?" Perkins asked. The Scribe nodded slowly. "I'm going to get you some breakfast, can you give a little thought to how you might want to change the Brotherhood? To what you'd do to fix it? You want it to be the group you joined, how would you get it there?"

"I-"

The secretary cut her off with a head shake. "Not now, I don't want the first thing that comes to mind. Give it some time, think about it. I believe Damon will want to find Danse first and recover Julian, but who knows, maybe you'll come up with something he likes."

Without waiting for another reply, Ellie stood and waved toward the door. "After you two."

What the hell is she playing at? I pushed myself away from the wall and ducked through the door into the bright morning sunlight. Come up with something I like? Change the Brotherhood? This is starting to sound like another Nate, wanting to change the Institute when it doesn't want to change.

Well… except for the splinter group.

The more effective, and less risky, option would be to destroy the Brotherhood. Now Ellie's trying to sign me up for some ridiculous idea to change them? That won't happen with the leadership it has in place. Hell, even if I were to remove Maxson and his Paladins, there's still a two or three thousand strong force with fanaticism shoved down their throats and nothing to control it. That's a recipe for all-out war.

"I'm not surprised you picked up on that", Valentine said as the three of us walked toward the common house. "It was bugging me all last night."

A dozen or so people were bustling around the yellow house, and another few were sitting at the small tables they'd pulled under the carport, eating. I still felt the stares at my back, but they were nowhere near as bad as they'd been for the past few days. I doubt it was trust, but whatever it was, not constantly feeling the aggravating itch in the back of my head was a relief.

Ellie shook her head. "It took me longer than it should have to realize that." She looked up at me. "You're someone every person wants to recruit, and every group wants to kill."

What the hell is she talking about? "What?"

We stopped at the edge of the carport. "You're dangerous. In the Commonwealth, that means useful to most people, but it also means you're a threat to the larger groups. It seems like Haylen wants to use that to fix whatever she feels is broken in the Brotherhood, even if she doesn't know it."

I cocked my head. "So you want me to help? Shooting people is a lot easier than getting an entire organization to change."

"For you, yeah", Valentine said, smiling. "But most people are better at talking than killing."

Talking? You think talking to Maxson or the Brotherhood's leadership is going to change anything?

"Talking won't do anything."

The detective frowned. "You don't think I literally meant talking, did you?"

He didn't? "What did you mean then?"

"Wait-" Valentine blinked. "You thought I meant I wanted to waltz into the airport and talk my way through their problems?"

Was that what I'd thought he meant? I…

A roar of laughter burst from the old Synth and he clapped me on the arm. "Dammit Damon", he said between fits, "I don't mean to be rude but that was a bit much, even for you."

My jaw set as I felt everyone in earshot turn to look at me and pulled my arm away from the detective's grasp as he continued chuckling to himself. Ellie was glaring at him disapprovingly, but he didn't seem to mind.

After a few more minutes, Valentine calmed himself and glanced at Perkins. "Oh don't give me that look, the guy could use a few people laughing at him from time to time. Everyone here walks on eggshells when he's around." He smiled at me. "I knew you back when you were a way bigger asshole than you are now. If the folks here met you back then, I can't imagine how they'd react to you."

Back then? He says it like we've known each other for more than a few months.

"Nick", Ellie said, an irritated frown plastered on her face, "sometimes I wonder if the circuits in there are connected properly."

The detective shot her a lopsided grin. "Do you think I'd be this charming if they were?"

"'Charming's' one way to put it", the secretary muttered as she turned to head into the common house.

As she did, Valentine turned back to me, face grim once again. "In all seriousness though, finding a… less destructive way to deal with the Brotherhood would be a good idea. We have enough issues around here as it is without an all-out war taking place."

An all-out war is what the Brotherhood wants. "Not going to happen."

He cocked a brow. "What do you mean?"

I pulled the small, handheld radio from its pouch. "That's what they're here for. I've spent the last month monitoring their comms", which were incredibly insecure.

Valentine looked from me to the radio and back.

"Damon…" he trailed off, letting out a deep, tired sigh. "I know your type: see problem, fix problem. Your brand of that involves a lot of bodies. Don't you think, sometimes, taking a minute to step back and look at something might give you a better idea of what to do?" He shrugged. "Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here, but it might make things easier."

Have I taken time to step back and look? Isn't that what I've done for the last month?

My mind replayed my 'activities' since the Institute tried to kill me. Have I been? Really? Looking back through the last month, it seems like I've been doing a lot of the same? How do I change that though, what do I do differently?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean- you're a soldier, right?" I nodded. "I don't know a whole lot about military history, but I know enough to know soldiers are more concerned with whoever's on the other end of their gun."

That… isn't strictly true, but I think I know where this is going.

"It isn't your job to look at the bigger picture. You're playing a different game now, on a different scale." The Synth shrugged. "Don't take offense to this but, if you want to do this right, you're gonna have to change how you do things."

I cocked my head at Valentine. I have to give the detective credit, he isn't one to mince words.

"It's something I've been thinking about."

"Great!" Nick exclaimed just as Perkins re-emerged with a plate of food. "Now you just have to let someone else help out with that and you might get somewhere."

Let someone else help? "Uh-huh."

Ellie cleared her throat as she walked by. "We should get back to Haylen before he breaks you in half." I smirked. She was clearly irritated with her partner. That type of irritation doesn't pop up all of a sudden; the way she said it sounds like she's been dealing with that annoyance for a long time.

"If he didn't do that the night after we killed Kellogg, I doubt he'll do it now", Valentine said, winking at me as he started after the secretary (who was looking more and more like his boss).

Yeah… I followed. That hadn't been a good night.

"But can you do me a favor, big guy? Let us do a little more digging before you make up your mind here."

Make up my mind? "You haven't given me any reason to change my decision yet."

Nick glanced at me. "Which is?"

"Get Julian back, capture Danse, figure out everything I can about the Brotherhood."

"Sounds peaceful", he said, snorting.

I grunted. "It won't be."

"No shit."

We returned to the house and, inside, Haylen was still sitting in her chair, but she had her elbows on her knees and face buried in her hands. She looked up as Ellie entered and offered her the plate full of fresh fruit and some sort of meat.

"I know what I want to do", the Scribe said. "We-"

"Eat first", Perkins interrupted. "We aren't in a hurry."

Haylen's eyes grew wide. "Yes! Yes, we are!"

Ellie shook her head. "If you're in a hurry, you'll make a mistake, and with everything you're risking, you can't afford to do that. Whatever you've thought of, give it a few minutes to process." She studied the slender girl. "And a little food would do you some good. It looks like you haven't had a full meal in weeks."

The now ex-Brotherhood scribe glowered at her, then me, before slowly taking the plate from Perkins. "It's been a few weeks."

"Then the food is definitely in order." The brown-haired woman found her seat once again and smoothed the wrinkles in her ever-present skirt. "Now would you mind telling me a bit more about Paladin Danse?"

Apparently now she had a full plate of food in front of her, Haylen decided she was incredibly hungry. It took four mouthfuls for her to finally answer.

"He's strict but fair", she said, still working on her last oversized bite of Mutfruit. "And one of the best fighters the Brotherhood has."

I remembered the first night we'd met back in Cambridge when they were fending off a horde of feral Ghouls. Maybe I surprised him, but the man didn't last more than a few seconds.

He did get a few shots off.

… Maybe, but had Nate not intervened, I still would have killed him.

And? That doesn't mean he's a bad fighter.

"Had… I guess", Haylen continued. "I- I don't know how he could be a Synth. After I heard the news, I looked into his past, at least as far as our records go, and everything looked fine. Hell, we even had information on him from before he joined the Brotherhood."

Is this the attitude everyone in the Brotherhood has? The Institute's been gaining the upper hand despite the Brotherhood having far more combat power. Obviously, a lot of that was due to the… unique nature of the Institute's infrastructure, but their technology is just as responsible.

"Forging that documentation would be easy."

The Scribe's eyes shot to me. "You think I didn't check to see if it was?"

I shrugged. "You think you have technical expertise on par with the Institute, a group that can make artificial humans?"

She blinked slowly before her gaze drifted back to the food in front of her.

"But… if they can do that then how do we know who to trust?"

Now she gets it. That's why so many people are so distrustful of the Institute: they can put a Synth, someone indistinguishable from a regular human, wherever they want, and no one would know. In a society like the Commonwealth, that's an incredibly dangerous tool, and one of the few things I agree with Maxson on. There was something she was missing though.

"Maxson was smart enough to get an informant inside the Institute."

All three of the room's other occupants twisted to face me.

"He did what?" Valentine asked, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "How?"

I shrugged again. "Not sure. They assaulted the Institute shortly before I was ambushed, it would have had to have happened then." I motioned back toward the common area. "Andrew thought he was being helped by the splinter group in the Institute working with the Railroad to smuggle Synths out. He'd been set up by the Brotherhood's group to be captured."

"Oh…" Haylen said, uncertainty on her slender, ashen face. "I- I heard rumors about that, but the Paladins were keeping it on the down-low."

"That's something we can worry about later", Ellie interjected. "There's nothing we can do about it right now." This time, I was the subject of her irritated glare. "So you want to save Danse because you trust him."

The Scribe hesitated a moment before nodding. "And I want to find out the truth. I want to know how he could be a Synth after having been in the Brotherhood for so long."

"Do you think he knew?"

What was Perkins trying to do here? Hadn't she wanted Haylen to eat, to keep her from thinking about whatever the hell she's going to ask me to do? Why focus on Danse like this?

Haylen shook her head. "No clue."

With a nod of her own, the secretary fell silent and let Haylen finish her food in quiet. As she did, I noticed the scribe had unwound. She'd been on the verge of leaping from her seat when we first got back, now though… she looked like she was thinking. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was about.

"So", Haylen said as she set the empty plate aside and wiped her hand across her mouth, "I think I know what I want to do."

I cocked an eyebrow behind my visor. She knows what she wants to do.

"Lay it on us", Perkins replied.

The scribe's brow furrowed. "Well, you're right, I don't know exactly what I want, but I need someone who can help me figure that out. The first person who can and would do that is Danse." Her eyes locked onto mine. "You're the second."

Would? This time I cocked my head at her. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you want to win this fight don't you? And put as few people at risk as possible?" She shrugged. "I think Julian for Danse is a fair trade, but I don't think you need a reason to help me with the Brotherhood."

Valentine shot me a smirk. "Just for the rest of us", he said, "what does that look like? Him helping you?"

"I… that's something I still haven't figured out yet. All I know is I need to figure out what I can do to change things."

I'm not the right person to ask that.

The detective leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful frown spreading across his face. "So you need to know how you can change people's minds." He nodded. "Damon's right about one thing, with the sorta stuff going on in the Brotherhood it won't be as simple as talking your way through it; you need someone who can stand up to Maxson." The Synth glanced at me. "Someone a little more charismatic than our friend here, obviously. Someone the Brotherhood already respects."

A strong leader to counteract a strongman leader. Oh, I know exactly where he's going with this.

"The only people who might be able to inspire that sort of support are… the… Paladins…" Haylen trailed off, eyes growing wide. "You think Danse could do it? I don't know if that would work. After it came out he was a Synth, I don't think anyone would follow him."

Valentine smiled. "You did. How do you know there aren't others who would have?"

The Scribe's mouth formed a small 'O' before drifting shut.

"He's right", Perkins added. "If there are people like you who trust Danse, even if he is a Synth, they've probably had their resolve shaken the same way you did. Not everyone has the strength to act on it, but if the doubt exists, your commander would be the perfect person to pull at whatever cracks might exist."

And here they are again, signing me up to drag someone else with me across this goddamn wasteland to find a lost person. How the hell had all this happened? I just came back here to get Andrew to the Railroad, and now I'm getting pulled back into another insane scheme.

Any more insane than taking on the Brotherhood and Institute alone?

Yes.

That's a lie.

I felt the others' eyes fall on me.

"So?" Valentine asked. "You're the one who has to make this call. You wanted to go after Danse anyway so…"

Am I really the one making this call?

"I need more information. Do you know where he would go? Wherever it is, do you think no one else in the Brotherhood would look for him there? What kind of effort are they putting together to find him? If you're going to help me get Julian back, you can't be seen with me. A goal without a plan is useless."

Haylen cleared her throat. "I don't know for sure where he is, but I know where I might be able to find a lead. We had a fallback position if we got separated, Listening Post Bravo. No one in the Brotherhood knew about it besides us and…" her eyes fell to the broken floor. "And since they didn't interrogate me, I doubt they did with Rhys either. If he didn't tell anyone, no one else would know about it."

An official installation? That seemed far too obvious. "Why would he go there now? Is it a Brotherhood position?"

She shook her head. "No, it used to be an old military radio station, but it hasn't been used by anyone in a long time. To anyone else, it's just another pre-war relic. We stocked supplies and weapons there. It's well hidden, hardened, and defensible. I know Danse better than anyone, if he wanted to hide out somewhere, he'd start there."

That sounded almost too good to be true. If this position was truly as ideal as it seemed, it would make a lot of sense for it to be a fallback position for an isolated squad. Now it would make a lot of sense for him to hide there.

"Where is it?"

"Uh…" She frowned. "It's about halfway between here and the airport, in the woods north of the city."

That wasn't very specific.

I turned to Valentine. "Do you have a map?"

A few minutes later, the detective returned with a foldout table and area map. It wasn't in the best shape and encompassed probably close to 1000 square kilometers, but it would work.

"Here", Haylen said, pointing to a spot about 20 klicks southeast of Sanctuary. There were no marks to signify anything was there, but that didn't mean anything if this outpost was meant to remain hidden.

"It's hard to tell on this map, but it's in this area. The outpost is basically just a bunker. It's set in a narrow ravine."

The more she talked about this potential hideout, the more convinced I was it would be a fantastic place to hold up. That also meant, if anyone in the Brotherhood knew it existed, it's one of the first places they'd look.

That doesn't mean I don't search it, that just means I need to be fast and quiet about it.

There was something else I didn't like about this: accepting everything Haylen's said so far is true, this operation is time-sensitive. I can't afford any sort of delays.

Which means, if I'm talking about mission objectives, I have to prioritize finding Danse over recovering Julian.

Goddammit.

Forcing Haylen to help me with Julian won't work. If she's gonna go back there and somehow reintegrate enough to get me close to the kid, she has to do it willingly. Besides Danse I don't have any leverage over her and, if I'm being honest with myself, she looks like she's about ready to go after him herself. On top of that, if Valentine's harebrained scheme works, recovering Danse and using him to destabilize the Brotherhood would only make things easier.

Goddammit.

"Here's how this is gonna work", I said, fixing Haylen in my gaze, "you and I are going to find Danse. If at any point I feel you're crossing me, you die." There were a few more days before the settlers finished preparing Sanctuary with the changes we'd decided on, so they wouldn't need me for now. "We're heading out tonight, pack provisions for a week. If we find him, he isn't staying in Sanctuary, this place doesn't need a target on it. He'll stay in the Vault", I nodded toward the fallout shelter. "After he's back, you help me figure out how to extract Julian."

Haylen nodded. "And what about figuring out how to change the Brotherhood."

I shrugged. "Not my area of expertise. Someone else can figure that out."

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking from me, to Valentine, then to Perkins. The detective didn't seem interested in arguing, and his assistant nodded.

"Okay. That works for me." She offered a small smile. "Thank you for doing this."

"I'm doing it to get Julian back."

"I know", she said with another nod. "That doesn't change that you are doing it. And for what it's worth, I think doing it to get Julian back is admirable. He's a really good kid."

X

"You're giving me a gun?" Haylen asked as I held out the HK-33.

"You aren't any more dangerous to me with this than with your bare hands."

She cocked an eyebrow, but still accepted the rifle. The 5.56mm rounds the thing shot would take a while to dig through my shields and once they did, they wouldn't do anything to the armor underneath. All that was assuming I stood still and let her empty magazine after magazine into me.

"If we're doing this, I'd rather have you combat effective."

We were standing outside Nate's house turned armory. She was dressed in the same shirt and fatigues Ellie had given her that morning, but now with what looked like a recreational vest and a worn brown jacket over it. She stuffed a half dozen magazines into her vest and hefted her satchel of food and water. The sun was beginning to set over the hills to our west which meant it was time to get moving. She didn't have NVS, but the sky was clear and it was a full moon tonight; there should be plenty of light for her to work with. Our little journey should take about four hours. That left about six more to recon the area, make contact with Danse or find clues to his whereabouts, and get out. I have no clue if the Brotherhood is searching the area for him, and I don't want to find out.

"Okay then, if you insist…" she said. Her tone didn't sound all that reluctant.

As I led her toward the front gate, I couldn't help but wonder how I kept getting roped into dragging people with me around the Commonwealth.

To be fair, Haylen did make it up here from Diamond city without being followed. She's obviously smart, resourceful, and determined.

So was Nate, and he still got us into trouble.

That was two months, this should be one night. Hopefully.

Yeah. Hopefully.

Preston was on watch at the post nearest the gate. I'm sure that was complete happenstance.

"You sure about this?" he asked, trotting toward us. "Another babysitting session?"

I shrugged. "No, but now that you've blown my plans, I'm making it up as I go."

"Your plans sucked anyways."

Right. "If we aren't back tomorrow morning, we'll be a few more days."

The former Minuteman snorted. "Right, right." He glanced behind us at the settlers still bustling around Sanctuary, working on the changes to their fortifications. "We're gonna send a few groups out to some of the smaller settlements. The Finches have been setting up a perimeter around their farm, and we've had a dozen or so folks move that way. I think that area would be a good place to start gathering more people." The dark-skinned man smiled. "Not much room left here. Kinda crazy when you think about it."

On that, we agree.

"I left a note with my radio frequency in Sturges' shop", I said. "Don't use it unless there's an emergency. I don't need anyone listening in on me, and you don't need the Brotherhood learning I'm here yet."

Preston cocked an eyebrow. "Got it. What about the Institute?"

"They won't attack. Not yet. Andrew might be a problem, but no one knows he's here. We need to keep it that way for now."

"Agreed", he said with a nod. "Well don't let me keep you. You've got places to be and people to kill."

Uh-huh…

Haylen followed me through the front gate and across the bridge. As we made it to the southern side, I glanced down at her. "Knowledge that you and I are traveling together to find Danse won't be getting back to Maxson."

She frowned at me. "Meaning?"

You need me to spell this out? "If anyone sees us who might report it, they die."

The Scribe stopped, glaring daggers into my visor. "I'm not killing any Brotherhood members."

I shrugged but didn't stop walking. "If they find out you're working with me, I lose my best chance at Julian."

After another few paces, her feet began drumming across the broken concrete to catch up with me. "You're a real asshole, you know that?" she muttered under her breath. Maybe she thought it was quiet enough I wouldn't hear.

"So I'm told."

With the sun fully submerged behind the horizon by the time we were immersed in the forest of trees, somehow stubbornly clinging to life, I switched my visor to NV and its twilight wash chased the encroaching darkness away. Haylen trudged through the underbrush quietly behind me. Her steps were softer than Nate's, probably because she couldn't have weighed more than 50 kilos. Whatever the reason was, not worrying about a tagalong drawing attention with every step they take was a relief. Hell, I was even able to maintain a reasonable pace. That gave me the time to halt our journey every 10 minutes or so to double back and perform a sweep. Just like before, there was nothing.

As we crept through the wilderness around what was left of the city, occasionally climbing rock shelves or avoiding isolated houses, the usual wildlife made its appearance. It was almost as though this place knows when I'm trying to stay quiet and throws whatever it can at me to make the 'quiet' part as difficult as possible. Thankfully, Haylen knew when to stay out of the way. More than that, she managed to dispatch a few wild dogs of her own with some quality CQC work.

When she caught me watching her bring the butt of her rifle down on one's head with a sharp crack, she shot me an annoyed glare. The Scribe didn't say anything, but the implication was clear enough.

"I can fight too."

Maybe she's gotten better since I put a bullet in her chest. Or at least the armor plate over her chest.

With less than a klick to go, it was just reaching 0130. We'd made good time, which was refreshing.

After another rearward scout to ensure we hadn't picked up a tail, I crouched beside Haylen, eyes still scanning the forest.

"You recognize any of the landscape?"

With the relatively bright moonlight filtering through the thin canopy of trees our surroundings were at least navigable, even without NVS.

She nodded after a moment and pointed toward a large rock outcropping set into the side of a gently sloping hill maybe 400 meters northeast of us.

"It's just past that", she whispered. "The ravine is on the other side of the hill there."

Well… that sucks. Besides the rocks, that hill face was barren. If someone was smart enough to trail us from a distance, we'd be out in the open with no cover for at least 50 meters.

"Is the surrounding area as open?"

Haylen nodded again. "That's one of the reasons we chose it."

Of course it is. Fine…

"When we get to the base of the hill, you're going to take cover while I recon the area." I hefted my rifle. "Don't get any bright ideas."

"Right, because I came all the way out here just to lure you into a trap", she whispered, shooting a deadpan glare my way.

I shrugged. It wasn't a bad strategy, especially since they haven't been able to track me down to this point. Granted, her finding me in Sanctuary was happenstance, but she had been looking for me.

'Planning session' over, we continued toward the base of the hill, dealing with another small pack of emaciated-looking dogs on the way. Once we reached it, Haylen hid in the rocky outcropping while I slipped up the hill and began scouting the area. Leaving her on her own when I have absolutely no reason to trust her didn't seem like the greatest idea, but I'd honestly rather do that than drag her along while I do my recon. Escorting someone across the Commonwealth was one thing, sneaking around a target location with them was entirely different.

A different I have no intention of dealing with.

Haylen hadn't been lying when she said the area was largely barren. Besides the occasional group of rocks or lone trees, there was nothing to provide visual or hard cover to anyone approaching. When I crested the top of the hill after ensuring the area around it was free of any potential traps or recent human traffic, I instantly saw why they decided on Listen Post Bravo as a fallback position.

As far as fortified structures go, I don't know if I've seen one in the Commonwealth as sturdy as the radio station. It was built into the far side of the ravine, with what looked like extremely thick concrete construction forming the entrance. It was likely the outpost had an alternate escape route leading into the hillside as well, but that didn't matter much here. If Danse is inside, getting there undetected was the goal anyway.

The ravine itself offered little cover as well, which was another plus for this position. Yes, there were occasional breaks in the rock walls that would provide protection, but those were separated by voids across open ground that would be lethal to most attackers. The setup made me wonder if this installation was really just a simple radio station. It looked way too defensible for that.

Question for another time.

Right. I have a job to do.

Satisfied the way in was clear I slipped back down the hill to where Haylen was hiding.

"Clear", I whispered as I reached the bottom edge of the rock outcropping.

While she extricated herself, I scanned the surrounding forest for any signs of a threat.

Nothing…

Over the last few days, I've seen a whole lot of 'nothing' when, considering the moves I've made, I should have the Institute or Brotherhood (or both) on my ass. Yet here I am, chasing down another HVT, neither in sight. My luck isn't this good. Something's going to drop.

Entering the ravine's entrance was a big no-go for me, regardless of how clear everything seemed. Taking that for granted, getting sloppy is how you wind up dead.

We climbed to the top of the hill and skirted down the ravine's edge until we were directly over the outpost. There were more than enough features in the steeply sloping rock face to downclimb to the channel's floor and, after a few moment's hesitation, the Scribe followed.

A few minutes later, we reached the ravine's floor and I waved her away from the entrance. This area would be almost impossible to conceal tracks in. The dirt ground was firm and rocky, any attempts at disrupting footprints would be as obvious as the footprints themselves…

I crouched to get a better look at what seemed to be a single pair of boots heading toward the entrance. It was impossible to tell what tread made them, but they were clearly footprints. Judging by the rounded edges and indistinct pattern, they were at least a week old. Unless I was off the mark, that fits Haylen's timeline for Danse's disappearance. On top of that, there were no return tracks.

As much as I wanted to be encouraged, if there was an escape route inside, the lack of a second track heading in the opposite direction didn't mean anything.

No signs of a rigged door, but that didn't mean anything. Any competent person wouldn't leave any giveaways and, as much as the Paladin annoyed me, Danse is certainly a competent fighter.

Time to try one of my newest toys.

Reaching into a pouch, I pulled two small cylinders out, about 5 centimeters in diameter and 3 long. It was a mixture of aluminum, iron oxide, and a small magnesium igniter. Thermite isn't explosive, but it will melt through damn near anything.

There were small adhesive strips I'd lined the front face with and I affixed the two pucks to the door just over the latch. The ignition wasn't the most complex and innovative thing I've come up with, but sometimes in the field you just need it to work. To ignite the magnesium, which would start the reaction, I had fixed a piece of flint to the rear cap, and a small, abraded rod to a string. Pull the string, it would make a spark and start the party.

Once I was finished preparing the charges, I waved Haylen away from the door and followed her to about ten meters, unwinding my 'detonator' as I went. She took cover in a narrow alcove and I positioned myself in front of her to shield the Scribe from any potential blast.

With a quick jerk, I set off the small thermite pucks and the brilliant orange light flared into the dark ravine, illuminating the walls in dancing yellows and oranges. If there was anyone within a klick, they'd see that.

Hopefully, we'd be gone before they showed up.

A few seconds after it started, the light waned before dying completely. I couldn't see the holes, but that was a long enough burn to dig through two or three centimeters of steel.

I motioned for the Scribe to stay put and slipped over to the opposite side of the ravine. Sure enough, the charges had done their job; the door over the latch was slag and I could see through the hand-width opening into the bunker's interior. There was no detonation, yet, and no light came out either.

The door was slightly ajar now, opening outward toward me. The gap couldn't have been more than a few centimeters, but it would at least allow me to search for any traps.

… Nothing.

There were no wires, no bars, no pressure switches… Nothing.

As promising as the idea of Danse hiding out here was, it looked like a bust. If the Paladin was trying to hide from the Brotherhood, I'd think he'd at least rig the door.

No point staying out here worrying about it. I waved to Haylen and she crept over while I approached the door.

One more check to make sure I hadn't missed anything, I pulled it open and the rusty hinges groaned quietly as the steel door swung wide.

Still nothing.

Clearing the large room beyond as I entered the bunker, the only thing that greeted me was what looked like a defunct radio station. There were consoles, receivers, several computers, an ancient-looking server, and a dozen or so desks arranged neatly around the 10-meter square space. Everything had a healthy coating of dust.

Except for the floor, which was covered in crossing bootprints. They were all the same size and tread.

And they were recent. More recent than the ones I'd seen outside.

The door creaked again as Haylen swung it shut behind us and I moved further into the bunker. It appears she was right, Danse was here, or at least he had been. There was no sign of the ex-Brotherhood soldier besides the bootprints.

"This way", the Scribe whispered and walked past me into the large room. She weaved through the desks and workstations, heading toward the far side of the bunker and another door. This one was already slightly ajar.

There were still too many unknowns, she shouldn't be taking the lead, but she was already pulling the door open when I reached her.

"We stored our supplies in here. The door was shut when we left. Danse has been here."

Inside was another, smaller room with shelves lined with supplies. Most of it was old and rotting, like damn near everything in this wasteland, but a pile of packaged food, what looked like medical supplies, and several laser weapons were tucked into the rear corner.

"Some of the stuff is missing", Haylen said excitedly. "Danse was definitely here." She studied the supplies more carefully. "He took a laser rifle and enough food for a month. At least." The small, slender girl turned to look up at me. "He could be anywhere by now, and with those supplies, he doesn't need to come out of hiding for a while."

So he didn't use a secure location he knew his subordinates could lead the Brotherhood to but still stopped by for a resupply. He'd stayed here for at least a few days, considering the footprints I'd seen in the main room. Had he come here intending to stay, then left once he realized this position may be compromised? If Danse was in the wind, with no leads and no tracking infrastructure, finding him would be damn near impossible.

Haylen knelt next to the sorted supplies and began rifling through them. Was she looking for something?

"What is it?"

"This is all moved around, mixed up. When we left it here the first time, it was organized better than this…" she trailed off as she lifted a plastic-wrapped box. "Danse… did you…" Setting the package aside, Haylen reached down and picked up a small, rectangular cartridge I'd come to identify as a 'holotape'.

The Scribe snapped to her feet and made for the door.

"This wasn't here before. Danse had to have made it", she said excitedly. I followed her back into the main room and she stopped at the nearest computer terminal. It didn't seem likely but… as soon as she tapped at the keyboard, the screen booted.

"We chose this outpost because it has still functioning solar panels and a battery bank built into the hillside above us. It's small, so I doubt it was meant to provide anything more than auxiliary power, but it's kept the batteries charged", she explained.

As soon as the computer was finished starting, she pushed the holotape into a port on its side and text began scrawling across the screen.

"Haylen and Rhys. I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening, or why it's happening, but I'm not sure what to do now. I have no intentions of betraying the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood has been my life as long as I can remember, the people in it, my family. If one of you has come here looking for me, whether it be in service to Maxson, or in search of answers on your own, I've left instructions in the bunker's emergency exit. It is behind the large shelf on the far side of the storage room. The passcode is the day we lost Franklin. Again, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone in the Brotherhood. As unprofessional as it is, and potentially self-harmful as a meeting might be, I hope to see you two again."

"Danse", the Scribe whispered. Even with her voice low, it was thick with emotion. Her slender face was twisted in pain, and she looked like she was holding back tears. "I'm sorry too…"

What she was sorry for, I don't know but-

Something caught my attention, a noise at the edge of my hearing.

And again.

It wasn't footsteps, or at least I didn't think it was. The sound was soft, almost indiscernible.

There was something outside the bunker in the ravine.

Then the gentle scraping noise of something sliding over the loose dirt outside. It was slow, soft, and deliberate. Someone was outside the bunker in the ravine, and they knew we were here.

Pulling Haylen away from the computer, I motioned for her to take cover from the entrance and sighted on it. There's an escape route, and she knows the code to it, which means I don't need to engage whoever this is, but I also want to know who followed us.

Whoever it was continued creeping closer. It was impossible to tell how many there were with the multitude of sand and gravel crunching underfoot.

Five seconds.

Our uninvited guests continued getting closer to the door.

Three.

The footsteps stopped.

Two.

I heard a soft click that, after years of experience, anyone would identify as the spoon of a grenade.

One.

A small, cylindrical charge sailed through the door.

Flashbang.

I turned my head away from the device and squeezed my eyes shut. It burst a half dozen meters from me and, even through my eyelids and polarized visor, I saw the brilliant flash illuminate the dark bunker interior.

There were only two groups that use flashbangs: the Brotherhood and Gunners.

And the Gunners don't operate this far in the middle of nowhere.

As soon as the light faded, I was back in my rifle's sights-

Just in time to see the first pair of Brotherhood soldiers race through the door.

Oddly enough, neither were in T60.

Both of them dropped as, without the power armor's protection, the high velocity 7.62mm rounds turned their heads into massive, dark explosions of blood, bone, and brain.

Haylen.

Pulling a concussion charge from my belt, one of the charges I was supposed to use on the Railroad, I primed it and flung the small device back through the door. I followed it with a half dozen rounds to keep any enterprising soldiers at bay before turning to the computer.

The non-lethal explosive detonated as I yanked the holotape from the computer and clenched my gauntleted hand around the small box, crushing it into dust.

With another few rounds through the door for good measure, I turned, grabbing the Scribe by the collar of her jacket, and dragged her into the store room. I have about 20 seconds to figure this out, and at the end of that 20 seconds, she was either going to open the emergency exit, or she was going to have a knife in her throat.

She set me up. I knew this was a possibility but… goddammit of course this was too good to be true. There are still uses for her though, and getting upset about this wouldn't get me anywhere.

I flung the slender woman into the pile of supplies and slammed the storeroom door shut behind me.

"What's going on?" she demanded, rubbing at her eyes.

"Those are your people outside."

The Scribe stopped and stared up at me, wide-eyed. "What? The Brotherhood's here?"

Yanking my knife from its sheath, I brandished it in front of her. "You have 15 seconds to open the emergency door or you and a lot of other people are going to die."

"Wait- how." Haylen squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head violently. "Okay. Okay."

Climbing unsteadily to her feet, the Scribe stumbled her way to the shelf Danse had indicated in the holotape.

She's… cooperating? She's helping me escape?

The shelf was too large for Haylen to move, so I trudged over and yanked the rusting hulk out of the way. Sure enough, another steel door was behind it, a keypad set in the concrete wall. Her fingers fumbled at the numbers and she kept rubbing her eyes. We'd been moving around in the dark for the past five hours. That's the worst-case scenario for taking a flashbang.

I don't have time for this.

"What's the number", I said, pulling her away from the keypad. She yelped in protest. No response came and, when I turned back to her, the Scribe was doing her best to glare at me while still rubbing her eyes

"Number", I barked.

"... 10112287."

As soon as I entered the last digit, I heard a latch click and pushed the door open. Beyond was a mostly bare rock tunnel with regular steel supports receding into the darkness. With no light from the sun, even my night vision struggled to illuminate anything more than a dozen meters into the exit.

"Move."

The Scribe hesitated a moment longer, glancing back at the door as footsteps pounded into the bunker. The dilemma played out across her face: she didn't want to think of the Brotherhood as someone she had to run from, as an enemy. I wasn't about to give her the choice though.

I grabbed her arm and shoved her through the exit into the darkness beyond. She barked something at me, but it didn't matter. What matters now is getting out clean.

After I slipped through, I pulled the shelves back into place and swung the door shut. As it closed, the latch clicked. If we're lucky, we have a five-minute head start.

"They knew we were here?" she asked, voice a mixture of irritation and worry. "How?"

She wants to play dumb, that's fine. I'll figure this out once we're out of danger.

With as dark as it is in this tunnel, if Danse had actually left a clue as to his whereabouts, it would be damn near impossible to find it. There's always a possibility that holotape was a plant to sell this ambush, but on the off chance it wasn't, I'm not about to let carelessness ruin an operation.

Retrieving another chem light, I cracked it into life, bathing the rocky passage in sickly green.

And there it was, a small pouch resting beside the door.

Haylen noticed it at the same time and went to reach for it. I blocked her and tucked the pouch into my MOLLE belt.

"Move."

She shot me a look that was probably a little more concern than irritation before nodding and heading further into the tunnel. As we walked, she was careful to keep her hands away from the rifle I'd given her. It was a nice gesture, but I didn't care. With the light stick in my left hand, I held the MK18 in her general direction with my right. I seriously doubt she's stupid enough to try anything without backup, but that cuts both ways: she's smart enough to set up a secondary ambush.

The tunnel wasn't very long. By the time my five-minute allotment had ticked off, I saw light spilling through… something a few dozen meters away. When we reached it, I realized it was moonlight seeping through an overgrown thicket planted in front of the tunnel's exit. Not a bad way to hide something like this.

"Stop", I ordered and the Scribe halted a few meters away from the opening.

I tossed the light back up the tunnel before creeping forward and peering through the dry, unhealthy-looking bushes.

Outside, the exit was spitting us out on the north side of the hill Listening Post Bravo was set into. It was maybe 350 meters from the bunker which, unless the Brotherhood had managed to establish a perimeter almost a kilometer in diameter in less than 20 minutes, should be sufficient. I wasn't going to take that for granted though.

Pushing through the undergrowth, I did one more sweep of the area. No Vertibirds, no patrols, no ambush.

One could almost believe Haylen hadn't been involved in what just happened.

Almost.

"Out."

Haylen followed the order and, as I herded her forward, we began heading northwest, angling away from the bunker and our pursuers. I have another hideout set up about five klicks north of here, and the two of us need a little… privacy to discuss what just happened.

X

"What the hell?" Haylen snapped as I shoved her through a door into the half-collapsed barn I'd set up as a resupply point. She stumbled and fell to the dirt floor in a heap, panting heavily. With the Brotherhood nearby, I made her keep a pace that almost had her running through the rocky hills and dense forests. The risk of being followed was too much to abstain from my normal practices, so she had to suffer through my usual speed, not that I felt bad about it.

Right now isn't time for sympathy, it's time for answers.

"The last 20 minutes wasn't-" she continued but stopped when she turned to find me kneeling in front of her, knife in hand once again. The small, slender girl tried her best to hide it, but she shrank away from me, hand going to the HK-33 still on its sling despite her earlier discipline. It froze a few millimeters from the pistol grip.

"I didn't do that", Haylen said quietly, voice almost controlled. She sounded calm except for the slight edge that betrayed her.

"I didn't do that." It's a little difficult to believe when someone says that at this point.

"Convince me", I replied, voice low.

Her jaw tightened, and despite the evident fear, the Scribes eyes never wavered from my visor. "Why would I? If I wanted the Brotherhood to ambush you, why would I wait until you were in a defensible position? Why wouldn't I report you were at Sanctuary? It isn't like they don't have the forces to overrun the settlement. They may be well defended, but they're small."

"You knew if I found you, I'd search you. Having a radio would be a dead giveaway. Setting up a pre-planned ambush is a much cleaner, effective way of doing it."

"But how would I know when we'd be there?"

I shook my head. "You don't have to. It was a radio station and you told me it has backup power. Rig one of the transmitters to send out a signal when we arrive."

The Scribe swallowed as her eyes shifted from me to the knife in my hand and back. Her nerves were getting the better of her.

That's good. Right now, the only use she is to me is information. If she's working with the Brotherhood, I can't trust her to help me get Julian back. Without that, her only use is intel, and I don't need her cooperation to get that.

"Okay- okay wait", the now wide-eyed girl said. "You want me to convince you I had nothing to do with the ambush, but anything I say- you don't have any reason to believe me." I nodded. "Then what do you want?"

"You to come up with something I will believe."

She blinked. "How?"

"That's up to you."

"I…" Haylen trailed off, eyes darting between my visor and the knife again. "Why would I do this? Why would I go through this trouble? None of it makes any sense, there's so many things that have to go perfect for me to set this ambush up and in the end, we- you escaped. Planting the holotape, planting whatever Danse left for us… If those two things really are plants, why wouldn't we have had people waiting in the tunnels instead? Or, if they weren't plants, why would I tell you the door's code? We were trapped."

It was my turn to blink. That was a completely reasonable argument. Push comes to shove, I break the emergency exit door down or fight my way past the Brotherhood forces. Neither of those things would have been on her mind at that moment though.

So accepting she didn't set the ambush up… what do I do next? Continue looking for Danse? If the Brotherhood weren't there for me, they were there for him. They don't have whatever clues the Paladin left since those are now tucked into my belt, but that only gives me a head start. They can cover a lot more ground than me with a few thousand soldiers and air support.

"Fine", I said, standing. "You're safe for now."

Resheathing my knife, I pulled Danse's package out and opened the drawstring. Inside-

Inside was a map.

A motherfucking map.

As I unfolded it, there was a mark on it about 30 klicks to the north.

"There's no way", I muttered. A map? A map? With a mark on it?

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." That's something I heard Fourier say once. I have no clue what it means, but… somehow it seems applicable here.

"Wait…" Haylen said, still gathering her breath. "Just like that? We're done?"

I glanced from the map down to her. "I said 'for now'." Truth be told, her explanation was good, and I couldn't come up with any reasonable objections. Playing the attack back, if they were coming after me, it would have been a lot harder than that, and I seriously doubt they would have sent people in without power armor. At least not the entry team.

Haylen stood, staring at me with more than a little uncertainty in her eyes.

"Does this location have any significance?" I turned the map to face her.

"I can't see it", she replied, worry melting into irritation.

Night vision. Right.

Cracking another chem light into life, I held it over the map. She didn't study it for more than a second before shaking her head.

"We never went that far north. I don't know what's there, but if Danse is hiding out in the area, possibly waiting for us, we need to go. The Brotherhood might not have this information, but we don't know how long we have."

It was 0330. There were still about three hours of darkness left. I hadn't established any supply points or hideouts that far north either, but odds are, if Danse was hiding up there, specifically waiting for one of his subordinates, the Brotherhood wouldn't either. I hadn't seen them moving that far away from the city anyway, and they wouldn't have a reason to, the Institute being here.

There was no way to be 100% sure Haylen wasn't working with the Brotherhood, but the circumstances in which this situation was a setup were… more than a little far-fetched.

Looks like Sanctuary will get a few more days' break from me.

With the map folded and tucked into its pouch again, we exited the crumbling barn and began north through the woods once again. Haylen's step was lighter, and she stayed further away from me than she had before. She didn't know if I believed her, and that made her nervous.

We maintained a quick pace through the rolling hills, so much so that, after another half hour's march, the Scribe was panting again.

"Stop", I said, waving her to a halt at the edge of a small clearing. "Five minutes."

The slender woman shot me a glare "I'm fine-"

"I don't need your heaving to give away our position." We were just under ten klicks north of the bunker. The Brotherhood couldn't set up a perimeter that large, but there's no point taking the risk we'll be found.

She held my gaze for a moment before turning away and pulling a bottle of water from her satchel.

"You could be more cooperative, you know", she muttered after a few seconds of silence. "We're out here together to find Danse."

Cooperative? "I'm as cooperative as I need to be."

Haylen snorted. "That's a great way to look at it. 'People might hate being around me, but I get the job done.'" She turned back to me. "I came to you asking for your help. I'm not with-" the Scribe paused, a troubled frown flickering across her face. "I'm not with the Brotherhood right now."

"All I have is your word."

"How else am I supposed to get you to trust me?"

That was a good question. The people I trust… I've known them, most of them, since I arrived here. How did I come to trust them? Just time? That didn't seem like a very good reason. Events that happened? That might be a better explanation, but how would I come to trust Haylen if she's worth trusting?

I don't know.

"We'll see what happens."

The Scribe opened her mouth like she wanted to respond, but after a few seconds of silence, it drifted shut and she nodded.

A few minutes later when we resumed our march, the question was still lingering in my mind. How did I come to trust the people in Sanctuary? If I had to guess, it's because they've always been frank with me. They were wary of me when we first met, but as they grew more comfortable they came to trust me. They treated me like, well not like a regular person, but they at least treated me like a person.

Distant gunfire sounded to the southwest as we climbed down another rocky hillside. It wasn't our Brotherhood attackers; this was conventional firearms, and it was in the wrong direction.

How did I come to trust Nate? Months of trudging back and forth across the Commonwealth and a dozen fights. And… maybe a few more personal details.

But then there were the kids. I'd trusted Cass almost immediately. Was it because she was so young? Was it because of the position they'd been in?

I glanced at Haylen as we took another short break an hour and a half into the journey toward Danse's new position.

So I'd come to trust different groups of people in completely different ways. If I had to say which situation was closest to Haylen's, it would be Cass, Tommy, and Julian's. She was lost, separated from the only home she knew, trying to find answers to questions she didn't know to ask.

Then images of how she cared for the three of them when I first found them, and when we brought them back to the Prydwen, flashed through my mind. Her determination when talking about the Brotherhood, and the good she thought they were doing. The confusion and loss in her eyes when she'd arrived in Sanctuary. Our first meeting in Cambridge when she tried to convince Danse to cooperate with Nate and me.

We restarted our march once again, weaving between bark-stripped trees. Surprisingly, we hadn't encountered much wildlife along the way, and what we did was generally limited to smaller animals that scurried into the darkness as we neared.

If it isn't necessarily the circumstances that drive me to trust someone, is it the person? If it's the person, of anyone else in the Brotherhood, she's proven the most trustworthy. Maybe the only one who's trustworthy. If she's telling the truth, and she left because she realized what was happening, that's only more reason to trust her.

Attack at the bunker notwithstanding, nothing I've seen thus far would suggest that isn't the case.

But then there's the chance she might betray me, whether it's when we find Danse, when we return to Sanctuary, or when I'm trying to rescue Julian. What if the betrayal turns out worse this time? What if it gets people in Sanctuary killed? What if it gets Julian killed?

As trustworthy as she might seem, it was impossible to know for sure, and that's what concerns me. What happens if I trust her and I guess wrong?

I'll just have to wait and see.

By the time the sun began brightening over the eastern horizon, we were 25 klicks north of the bunker, far enough that, provided we hadn't picked up any pursuers, we were clear of the Brotherhood.

After one last break, we began the final leg of the journey toward where we would, hopefully, find Danse. I have very little doubt the Brotherhood knows I was the one in the Bunker, and they know I'm tracking their AWOL Paladin. They're going to be trying to figure out how I found out about him; they've been smart to keep it off their comms. Depending on how Haylen left, they may deduce she's the one helping me.

Dammit, now I'm putting an even larger target on Sanctuary. I'll have to figure this out once I find Danse.

A little over an hour later, we were nearing Danse's mark on the map he left us. We were deep in the countryside now, the husk of Boston disappearing over the southern horizon a few hours ago. Occasionally, we would come across a small town or development but, for the most part, his area was rolling hills and what was left of a forest.

And then it wasn't.

As we crested a hill just south of our intended location, I found myself looking down on what seemed to be a military base. Or it had been one a few hundred years ago. The kilometer square construction consisted of a few hundred houses on one side, and several buildings that looked similar to Fort Hagen on the other. The entire thing was ringed by what used to be a perimeter fence and several checkpoints on roads leading into and out of the base.

It was situated in a small valley, the gently sloping hills around it free of trees, rocks, or any other potential cover or sightline obstruction.

"This looks like the place", Haylen muttered as she stared down into the shallow valley.

She was right, it did. With the relatively secluded location, a multitude of places to hide, and plenty of well-fortified positions, it would be a fantastic spot for someone to stay who didn't want to be found. At least not without knowing someone was looking for them.

Haylen took a step forward to begin down the hill-

Motion caught my eye.

I grabbed her shoulder. "Wait."

Scanning the base below us again, I saw movement again, this time in a very different spot. Then another. If Danse is in there, he isn't alone.

"Go", I order, pointing to a small collection of boulders to our right. We slipped into cover and I pulled my rifle up to get a better look into the base. The scope wasn't as powerful as I would have preferred, but it would work.

As I studied our target, I saw more and more signs of movement and even a few of inhabitation. There were a few recently burned-out fires throughout the houses, one still lit near the southern perimeter-

Then I noticed the subtle firing positions set up on our side of the base. It was similar to Sanctuary: holes in the sides of buildings that seemed a little too deliberate, and several of the checkpoints and watchtowers with reinforcements that were obviously put there recently.

After a few more seconds of study, I spotted the first person: a large man tucked into one of the watchtowers, cradling a bolt action rifle, wearing the signature leather and iron cladding of a Raider. It didn't take me long to spot another. Then five more. The more I scanned the base, the more of the sadistic bastards I saw. Before I knew it, I'd lost count at 94, and there were still plenty more.

Shit.

"This is a bust", I whispered. "Raiders."

I felt Haylen's eyes dig into me from my right. "What? Raiders?" The alarm in her voice matched her expression when I turned to meet her gaze.

"This looks like a stronghold."

"Is this where we're supposed to find Danse?" Alarm was slowly turning into panic.

It was, but just to be sure, I pulled the map out and looked it over once more.

"Yes."

Her wide-eyed stare shot back to the base. "What if Danse is in there, what if they captured him?" I watched her neck tighten as she forced herself to swallow. "I've seen what Raiders do to people. I- I can't let that happen to Danse." She met my gaze again. "We have to make sure they don't have him. If- if he's-"

"Rushing in there is a bad idea", I interrupted. The sun was climbing away from the horizon now, the deep red beginning to fade to orange. So much for getting this done quickly and getting back to Sanctuary. "We wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?"

Wait for what? She can't be serious. "Recon, gather intel on numbers, armament, patrol patterns, figure out if Danse is actually there."

I looked down on the military base that, now I knew Raiders were there, I realized was swarming with activity. This wasn't a small operation, this is the largest Raider band I've seen by an order of magnitude.

"No! We need to get in there. You can get me in there, we need to find him!" Haylen's voice was full-blown panic now. She was struggling to control her breathing and, when I glanced her way, her entire body was trembling. "If he marked this place, he's here, and if he's here, it means the Raiders have him."

Why does everyone think that's how I do things? That, just because I can take a few bullets, I can dive head first into any fight? "That isn't how I do things. If we want to succeed, I need time to scout and plan."

Haylen threw up her arms. "So, what, we sit on our asses up here while they may be doing who knows what to Danse?"

"We don't know he's here", I repeated. "And yes, you're going to stay here while I scout the perimeter." If I'm going to do this, I don't need some newbie screwing things up, especially against a force this large. There were enough people and, probably, firepower here to give Maxson cause for pause. I'm not Maxson, but I'm also not stupid. Besides, this wasn't just about Danse anymore. I need to figure out why there's such a massive Raider gang operating in this area. Have they been here for a while? Is this a newly established base? Are they trying to move down into the Commonwealth? More questions need answering now and rushing in isn't how I get them.

The Scribe shook her head. "We'll wait and scout, but I'm not staying behind unless you tie me to a tree, and I don't think you want to do that." I cocked my head at her. "If I'm tied to a tree, it'll be difficult for me to hide or defend myself from anyone in the area."

Of course she has to make this difficult. She was right though; if I didn't restrain her, she'd probably get up to something stupid, and if I did I risked compromising her.

I hate when people force my hand.

"Stay close, do exactly what I say or I will knock you out and tie you to a tree."

She nodded curtly. "Works for me."

Chapter 45: A New Threat

Around 400 Raiders, armaments ranging from pipe pistols to a handful of recoilless guns, irregular foot patrols ranging anywhere from 75 to 100 of their contingent, and a force centralized around one of the fort-like structures on the west side of the base. 400 plus people weren't really enough for the base, but it was a massive Raider contingent and, from the looks of it, the best organized I'd seen. There was still no sign of Danse, but it appeared the southernmost structure was of some significance with the number of Raiders moving in and out of it. Occasionally a small group of them would leave one of the main entrances to do… whatever the hell this group of Raiders does, probably terrorize any settlements in the area.

That's where I'm waiting now, crouched behind the rusted hulk of something that may have been a truck before the bombs fell just over the crest of the hill to the north of the base. Out of the half dozen small bands to leave the base, this was the road four of them took. Hopefully, the law of averages wouldn't work against me, but I was banking on this being my best bet for capturing a Raider or two and getting a few answers.

Haylen was waiting impatiently on the other side of the street from me, behind her own rusted-to-hell car. Even crouched, she was constantly shifting her weight back and forth, fidgeting with her rifle, and peaking over her cover down toward the base. If anyone down there had a sniper, and the skill to use it, one of these times she'd lose that, and her head isn't one of the things she can go without.

"Relax", I called across the road as softly as I could.

In the long shadows cast by the rusted hulks in the early evening sun, it was a little difficult to tell what her expression was, but she clearly wasn't happy.

"Danse might be in there being tortured, and you've had us skulking around the outside of the base for the last 12 hours. Do you even have a plan?"

I have the framework of one, but a lot of the details depend on what the group of Raiders I capture tell me. The first, and most important, part would be getting down into the base without being seen. If I am seen, instead of sneaking my way through a weak point in their patrol, I'll be fighting a 400-plus-person force. I like my odds against Raiders, but sometimes numbers will do the math for you. These ones were telling me, no matter how inept these assholes are, I lose that fight.

After that, make my way into the building, again, without being seen, and figure out if Danse is in there. Extraction would be difficult if he was because, in all likelihood, he wouldn't be in good shape. I've seen more than enough Raider camps to know how well they treat their prisoners.

Without making a run back to the supply stash I have a few klicks northwest of the airport, I don't have the explosives I need to make a good diversion. That's where Haylen comes in. If things do pop off and a distraction is necessary, she'd start taking shots down into the patrols from the top of the western ridge. It was tall enough to afford a good view down into the base, but with plenty of visual and hard cover, it would allow her to move to the south, where we'd be meeting, with minimal risk.

"Keep your head down. I've already told you what I intend to do."

Haylen grunted but dropped back into a kneeling position behind the car. "Yes, you've told me you're gonna go down there and take a look while I play bait, but that doesn't help. How are you getting in without being seen? How are you getting Danse out without being seen or attacked?"

That's why I wanted to study their patrol patterns and movements within the base. I wasn't interested in giving a lecture on covert tactics.

"This is what I've done for a very long time." I looked back at the base. "I don't have the patience to get into specifics. Besides", I motioned toward the northern exit.

Our prey was exiting the base, heading toward us up the long, gently sloping hill, weaving between the rusted-out cars dotting the road. There were five of them, four men and one woman, all carrying a variety of weapons. As usual with Raiders, none of them seemed especially attentive, talking amongst themselves, gazing around the bowl their base of operations was set in aimlessly and sticking far too close together. If I didn't care about being spotted, or keeping them alive, they'd all be dead within a few seconds.

As much as they still confused me, I was starting to understand why people in the Commonwealth were so afraid of these poorly disciplined roving bands of Raiders. They aren't especially effective, but they're ruthless and persistent. It was an unfortunate combination for the type of person who also seemed to be on drugs most of the time, and already had a penchant for violence.

A few minutes later, they were drawing near to our position. Haylen didn't need to do anything, just make sure she stayed out of the way and ke[t watch on the base for any other activity.

Their heavy footsteps thudded across the broken concrete, 20 meters away. 15. 10. My muscles coiled, left hand wrapped tightly around my knife. While doing this quietly was a priority, a larger priority was not allowing them to attack the Scribe. I haven't used it in a while, but I had my right on the 10mm handgun.

5 meters.

I let the first Raider pass my cover. Then the second. Third. None of them noticed the massive armored form crouching in the shadow of a rusted hulk. They thought everyone was afraid of them, that their presence was enough to deter any attacks.

My legs drove into the ground as the fourth and fifth ones drew even with my cover.

An instant later, my knife was buried in the neck of the closest Raider, a shorter, overweight man whose leather jacket barely fit. He didn't have a chance to react before the blade severed his brainstem and he turned into dead weight.

Second to fall was the woman. She received an elbow to the bridge of her nose, and what was left of her head snapped to the side at an extremely unnatural angle as she crumpled to the broken road surface.

The other three had just begun to turn as I yanked my knife out and the first man's body dropped too.

A shout died on the next closest man's lips as, instead, a rasping gurgle exploded from the structurally superfluous hole my knife left in his trachea.

These last two, I wanted alive though.

As the furthest man raised his rifle, I lunged forward, driving a knee into the ribcage of the first Raider. I felt bones crack as the blow sent him tumbling backward. We were close enough to the base that, if he shouted, they'd hear him, so as he fell, I dropped the handgun and clamped my hand over his mouth.

The last man standing almost had his rifle to bear. Reaching forward with my left, I pressed the knife against his throat as the other man in my grasp crashed to the ground. It left me in an awkward, half kneel, but the wide-eyed surprise and fear on the only still-armed man told me it worked.

"Drop it", I ordered.

He nodded and let the bolt action rifle clatter to the road. The other man was writhing under me, one hand pounding on my forearm, the other grasping at his broken ribs.

This was taken care of. For now. "Anything?" I asked Haylen.

"No", the response came, calm and collected as if everything was normal. It was a marked change from her discomfort before. "No signs of activity from the base."

I nodded. "Jacket and pants. Off."

The first man's eyebrows almost met his hairline.

"I'm not asking."

He looked over my shoulder at his three dead comrades and nodded slowly.

As the tall, slender man followed my instructions, I looked down at the still squirming Raider beneath me.

"I'm going to take my hand away and you aren't going to say anything. You're going to take your jacket and pants off too and join your friend."

Despite the obvious pain in his eyes, the man was staring daggers at me as he tried to pry my hand away from his mouth. I leaned onto him a little more, enough to grind the back of his head into the broken road surface. Blood began trickling through his hair.

"Am I understood?"

He continued squirming. His eyes were full of venom

I'll take that as a 'no'.

If that's the case… I looked back up at the other Raiders. He had his jacket off and was working on his pants. As soon as I cleared my throat, his eyes darted away from his belt buckle and to me as I pulled the knife away from him. I slowly, deliberately pressed the knife into the still struggling man's right armpit, staring my remaining captive dead in the eyes the entire time.

The Raider beneath me tried to scream through my gauntleted hand as his writhing turned into full-blown convulsions. Centimeter by centimeter I continued driving the blade into his chest cavity, never breaking eye contact with the other. His eyes were wide, mouth twisted into a horrified grimace. After a dozen seconds of slow, methodical pressure, the guard hit his armpit and I did the same thing in reverse. As soon as I extracted it entirely, blood exploded from the wound, pouring across the ground and, another half minute later, the Raider grew still.

I slowly, purposefully wiped the knife across the now dead man's jacket before resheathing it and standing. Only one survivor. It wasn't ideal, but it would do, especially considering the horrified stare he was giving me said he got the message loud and clear.

"Finish taking your pants off, then start heading down the hill. I'll tell you when to stop."

Making him disrobe wasn't strictly necessary, I could have searched him. This was quicker though, and I'm sure if I ask some 'enhanced interrogation' specialist somewhere, they'd say it was a way to establish a power dynamic in the interaction off the bat.

Whatever, what matters is he does what I say, and answers my questions.

A minute later, he was standing in the middle of the road, no jacket or pants, just a dirty undershirt that was probably supposed to be white, boxers, and his now ridiculous-looking combat boots. He followed my instructions and, as soon as he was done, began trudging north down the hill. It was in the direction he'd originally intended, but probably not how he'd envisioned the journey.

After traveling a few hundred meters, far enough the crest of the hillside loomed far above us, I ordered him to stop. "How many people are in your base?" I pulled my knife back out.

"I- I don't know. The last time we counted it was around 400 I think", he responded, voice so low and timid I could barely hear it. Sounds about right.

"How many prisoners do you have and where do you keep them?"

"Uh… we- uh I think we've got 10 or 15? I dunno, I haven't been on guard in a few days. We keep 'em in the building in the middle of the left side of the base."

So I'd been wrong about that guess.

"How many people are on guard?"

"Usually two or- or three. We keep 'em chained so there isn't usually a reason to worry about it."

That seemed about right for a group with as little training and discipline as the Raiders. 2 or 3 guards to 15 prisoners? Doesn't matter if they're shackled, that's asking for a problem.

"Are any of the prisoners a Brotherhood of Steel soldier?"

My captive's eyes went wide. "Wh- what? You're here for him?"

That answers that question.

"How long has your group been here?"

The Raider hesitated, eyes shifting from me to the top of the hill, and back. "Why?"

I brandished the knife. "That isn't how this works. How long have you been here?"

"Ri- right. Uh- well, Castle he- uh- he brought the first group in about a month ago, the rest of us got here a week or so after that."

So they were moving into the area, probably from the north.

"Why?"

He blinked. "They- they said we needed to get in on the territory down here. Too much good stuff to let other people fight over."

That was… concerning. If there are larger, better-organized Raider groups to the north, and they decide the Commonwealth is worth their time, things could get a lot messier very, very quickly. "Are there any more of your people in the area?"

The Raider shook his head. "No. We were the first ones. Castle said the bosses wanna keep things tame for now."

Them sending out the raiding parties we'd seen leaving the base made sense then; they're trying to feel out the area and establish themselves before moving more forces into the Commonwealth. While I'm here, if I get the opportunity to take out this 'Castle' guy, that would be a huge help destabilizing this group and their forward efforts. From what I've seen, Raiders rely on strong, ruthless leadership to run. I cut off the head, whoever takes their place probably won't be as capable of holding the group together. If that happens, infighting might tear the whole goddamn base apart.

"Where's Castle?"

My captive shook his head again. "I- I can't tell you."

"Why not", I asked, pressing the knife to the underside of his chin

"I can't tell you cause I don't know man. He don't like to stay in the same place more than a few nights. When he's awake, he usually uses the big building in the middle of the base to plan and talk with the guys back home."

Killing their leader would be difficult then. If he's smart enough to move sleeping locations regularly to avoid being assassinated, this guy might be more dangerous than I was giving him credit for.

One more question.

"How many people do you have 'back home'?"

His expression went from wide-eyed fear to incredulous frown. "Why do you wanna know that? There's more than you can take."

I twisted the knife ever so slightly, digging the blade into his neck. "Number."

"Shit- shit I dunno, maybe a few thousand. It's the biggest chapter east of the Appalachians."

A much larger Raider force was moving into the area. Castle is in charge of this one, but it sounds like there's at least some form of centralized leadership up north. That means these assholes will probably try to absorb the current smaller bands roaming the Commonwealth too. The last thing everyone needs is a bunch of uncontrolled, drug-addicted bands of bandits to suddenly have leadership and organization.

And triple their forces.

For now though, my focus needs to be on recovering Danse. There are still more things I want to know, but now isn't the time to worry about them; the sun is going down, and I need to get the Paladin out.

What to do with this guy though? It isn't like I have any reason to spare him. Unlike the kid I brought back to Sanctuary, this Raider was older, maybe mid-30s, and considering the collection of scars on his face and arms, has seen his share of action.

What if I can get more out of him though? Information will be essential, especially for the smaller settlements in Sanctuary's network.

I don't have anything to restrain him with though…

Clothes.

That could work. There were plenty of clothes back up at the crest of the hill on the four dead bodies. The idea of leaving him alone with Haylen, even hogtied, wasn't great, but I'd rather do that than carry another Raider out of the camp while I'm, most likely, being shot at.

Motioning back toward the top of the hill where Haylen was still waiting with the collection of corpses, I said, "stop when you get to the first body."

The Raider's eyes went from me to the hill. "What are you gonna do?"

"Walk."

He hesitated a few beats longer but, before I could do anything else, he began climbing back toward his dead friends.

When we arrived, the Scribe was still kneeling behind the same car, occasionally peeking down into the base.

"Still nothing", she said quietly.

I nodded and began tearing strips of fabric from my latest victims. A few moments later, the last remaining Raider had his hands and feet bound with a gag in his mouth.

"Danse is in the middle administrative building", I said, pointing to the structure in question.

Haylen's eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to respond but I cut her off.

"I'm going down there, alone. You're going to keep our new friend with you. If anything goes sideways, shoot him and leave."

"I- Danse is my commanding officer", she said, "my friend."

"And you came to me to find him. We found him. If that's all you wanted help with, I'll take him", I nudged the Raider with a boot, "and leave. Otherwise, let me do my job."

Silence took hold as she glared daggers at me. I don't know why, she knew what the right answer was.

"Fine." The word was bitten off so hard at the end, anyone listening would think I forced her to say it. That was an agreement though, no matter how reluctant.

With that settled, I policed a few of the discarded weapons; a rough-looking combat rifle for me, and the bolt action for Haylen. The HK-33 was a perfectly serviceable weapon, but the 7.62mm rounds the sniper fired would be much more useful at the 4-500 meter range she'd be working with.

"Don't assume it's sighted", I said as I handed her the rifle with another dozen rounds I'd dug up. "Your first shot-"

She grabbed the weapon. "Should be a test shot. I know. You aren't the only one with firearm experience."

Uh-huh.

"Good." I hoisted the bound and gagged Raider onto my shoulder and followed her to the west, toward her designated firing position.

A few minutes later, she was laying in a small thicket on the crest of the hill facing the southwest corner of the base. After making sure my captive was properly secured, I slipped to the north and waited for the sky to darken entirely. The base didn't have floodlighting like Diamond City or Goodneighbor. Instead it was set up more like Sanctuary which made sense. Unlike the large settlements in Boston, this was planted in the middle of nowhere, and while a 400-person force might look good, if enough attention gets drawn your way, it's a problem. They did have single spotlights scattered around the perimeter, but as the sun sunk beneath the rolling hills, and night began taking hold, they stayed unlit.

That was perfect for me. Dark armor set against the now almost pitch black surroundings, I slipped down the hill toward my target without incident.

Covering the 400 or so meters as quickly, and quietly, as I could, I soon found myself bordering what used to be the base's perimeter fence. The concrete supports were mostly crumbled into nothing, but there were still signs of the rusted chain links scattered in the field around me. The next patrol didn't look like it would be this way for another minute or so, a massive gap in any guard, but that's what you get without designated patrol patterns.

Now all that stood between me and my objective was about 150 meters of open ground, interspersed with what looked like collapsed buildings littering the area. The problem was that open ground did have some subdued lighting, and several groups were milling around the admin buildings. These obviously weren't Raiders on patrol, it looked like they were just enjoying their evening, whatever Raiders do for fun besides preying on defenseless people and getting high.

There was no way I'd get through them without raising an alarm, even if I killed them.

Dammit…

That means I have to do the one thing I really, really hate.

I have to wait.

There's no rush, and no reason to take unnecessary risks. I could almost hear Katrina's voice. "Sometimes, you just gotta outwait your target."

It never ceased to bother me she was right.

Whatever the case, I couldn't wait here. As I glanced north and south along the perimeter fence, I watched a patrol approach from either direction. There was plenty of dead space between the perimeter and the loitering groups of Raiders to take refuge in, I just needed to find someplace that had at least a little visual cover.

With time beginning to run short, I scanned the collection of debris for something that would work. After a moment, my eyes landed on a pile of concrete and wood. It was impossible to tell what it had been in its previous life, but it offered good visual cover from the loitering Raiders and was behind another cluster of former buildings to keep me hidden from patrols.

It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough.

As the patrols began to draw near, I stole into the perimeter and, a few seconds later, I was laying beside my chosen building.

After waiting for the patrols to pass, I crept forward just far enough to peer around the wreckage and settled in for the most grueling part of any operation.

What seemed like hours dragged by as the dozen or so Raiders continued milling around the buildings.

It wasn't hours. According to my HUD, it was actually only about 25 minutes, but it might as well have been. Every few minutes one would depart, but their trickle was agonizingly slow. When only four remained, a very large part of me wanted to say to hell with it, and deal with the rest. That was my ego talking though. The safest option was to continue waiting. From the drooping postures and almost constant yawning now, I knew they wouldn't be sticking around much longer.

Sure enough, as my wait ticked past the 40-minute mark, the last group meandered away from their hangout spot and further into the base. Probably to bed. The few hours of rest I got during the day were sufficient to keep me going, but a full night's sleep (or what I call sleep) sounded nice.

A quick check of the perimeter confirmed the patrols were making another round. As much as I wanted to get moving, I wasn't going to wait all this time just to have my own impatience screw it up at the last minute. Another five minutes passed as the guards sauntered back and forth along the perimeter before finally giving me enough room to slip across the open space toward my target.

Once I reached the squat, concrete structure my captive designated as their prison, I skirted around it toward the front entrance. It was odd they didn't have any exterior guards. Did they think no one would attack them? Or did they think their patrols would be enough to find anyone who might? My captive said there'd only be two or three guards inside, but those weren't numbers I was going to trust. With 400 plus Raiders milling around the base, even if most of them were asleep, I don't need the problem of an alarm going off.

Unfortunately, with no windows, there was no way of telling where or how many Raiders I'd be facing.

After making sure there was no one watching the entrance, I slipped into the dimly lit interior and found myself in an oddly familiar setting. Of course, the lighting was dim and the garbage and debris scattered across the floor wasn't exactly military regulation, but I'd been in plenty of installations. This place had the same lifeless concrete floors, walls, and ceiling. It had the same sense of apathy most quickly constructed bunkers in the UNSC did.

That was fine by me. The concrete floors meant it was easier to hear any footsteps.

I didn't hear any footsteps. Instead, I heard quiet chatter coming from somewhere above me.

It took a few moments of sneaking around the structure's monotonous, debris-strewn halls to find the stairs, and that was something else that annoyed me. The impact-deadening soles in my boots could only do so much with almost half a ton of armor and SPARTAN on concrete. My legs stayed tensed, and I carefully lowered my titanium-clad boots onto the floor with each step. It reminded me of a few other times I've had to do this during missions.

In every case, the plodding pace was damn near painful.

Eventually, I found the stairs near the center of the structure. As with the rest of the facility, they were concrete and littered with debris. Careful to avoid disturbing the refuse, I climbed the stairs toward the sounds of chatter bouncing down the concrete halls. I found them in a large room that may have been a cafeteria. To my surprise, there were only three guards keeping watch over the dozen prisoners who were all sitting in makeshift cages, chains locked around their wrists. Most of them looked ragged and disheveled, with torn clothing, gaunt faces, and shaggy hair. The only one that didn't was Danse.

The Paladin was worse for wear, hair longer, beard grown out, and clothes dirty, but if anything, he looked pissed. He was leaning against the bars of his cell, glaring daggers at the three Raiders sitting at a cobbled-together table talking amongst themselves. Even if I hadn't been hiding in the shadow of one of the large room's doorways, they wouldn't have noticed me, as engrossed in their conversation as they were.

Yes, these Raiders are better organized than most of the bands I come across, but that isn't saying much when I was able to, quite easily, infiltrate their prison complex without being spotted. Then there's these assholes: guards who are supposed to be watching their prisoners more concerned with chatting.

There was a problem though. While the room didn't appear to have any windows, any shouts could still draw the attention of anyone outside. Gunfire would definitely raise the alarm. While I didn't have to worry about the prisoners shooting, I did have to worry about them yelling. On top of that, the guards may have been tightly grouped, but they were at least a dozen meters away. I could cover that distance before any of them would get a shot off, but then there's a few seconds before I kill them where one gets lucky. If the base goes on alert, exfil will be a challenge. I didn't bring anything along that would blow a hole in the exterior wall, and both entrances will be covered.

Would a concussion charge be loud enough to be heard outside? … Probably.

So I can't shoot, I can't let them shoot, and I can't use any entry charges…

What about…

My gaze went to the rubble-scattered hallway floor. A fist-sized chunk of concrete caught my eye.

That's another option.

I hefted the small piece of the ceiling. It probably weighed a kilo, maybe two. This could work.

After collecting two more, I settled back at the corner and peered into the room. All three were still talking, none had a weapon in hand.

Good.

Taking aim, I pulled my arm back, leaned around the corner just far enough to get a clean throw, and hurled the impromptu projectile at the furthest Raider. It flashed across the intervening distance and crashed into the side of my target's head with a wet crack. He tumbled out of his chair and, as he hit the ground, I released the second chunk of concrete. Just like the first, it caved in the back of another Raider's skull.

Just as I threw the third, my target began standing-

And the chunk slammed into his left shoulder.

Breaking bones was audible over the whump and the Raider screamed in pain as he toppled to the concrete floor.

Son of a bitch.

No time to worry yet, he was still alive, scrambling on the ground for his sidearm. I rushed forward, yanking my knife from its sheath, and slammed an armored boot down on the Raider's questing right hand. He didn't have a chance to scream again before I buried my knife in his throat. Whatever air he'd gathered for the shout bubbled out past the blood pouring from the wound.

"Holy shit", a surprised whisper came from the cells behind me. When I turned to look, Danse was staring at me, expression a mixture of confusion and anger. "Damon, what the hell are you doing here?" The other prisoners were staring as well, most with wide-eyed shock.

"Haylen came to me for help finding you."

Barely audible shouting made its way through the walls of the building.

Great. Great plan Damon. Throw rocks at them. We need to get a move on.

I knelt over the last man I killed and began rooting through his pockets.

"Don't bother", one of the other prisoners said.

"Why?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder at the woman. She was older, with ragged, graying hair and a long scar tracing the bottom of her chin.

"They don't keep the keys on the guards." She snorted. "They were losing too many prisoners when they got excited."

My face twisted into a grimace as I looked back down at the three dead men.

The brute force way then.

Standing, I marched toward Danse's cell. The bars were steel, but it looks like they were welded together by a blind man. The latch itself was secured with a series of small, inconsistent blobs. No wonder they chained their captives too, they probably could have broken through these locks.

As more shouts made their way through the concrete walls, I grasped the door and, with a violent jerk, wrenched the latch from its housing. The metallic snap wasn't much quieter than my last victim's scream.

Danse stared up at me as I ducked into the cell, more anger than confusion in his eyes now. "Haylen came to you? Why?"

"Ask her", I said as I grabbed the chain. It was secured to the steel bars with equally shoddy welds. An instant later, those broke too. I don't have the time, nor the patience to explain how I'd gotten myself involved in this. Besides, that explanation should probably come from her, not me.

With the bracket broken loose from the cell, the Paladin, or former Paladin unwound the chains and stood. He looked like he wanted to say more, but I had very little doubt he knew we were on the clock.

I ducked back out of the cell and studied the other prisoners.

"You came here for him, huh?" the woman asked. "So what, you're just gonna leave us locked up?" There wasn't any accusation in her tone. If anything she sounded resigned.

What do I do with them? Freeing them will take a few minutes without keys, and then what? I have a dozen extra people I'm trying to escort out. That would have been difficult before the alarm was raised.

"You don't gotta say anything tin man", she said. That's a nickname I haven't heard in a while. "I can see it in how you're lookin at us. You got your man and that's all you came here to do. Can you do us one favor then? Just get us outta these cells? None of us wanna stay in here anymore, if that means we die tonight, we'll go down swingin'."

The other prisoners nodded their agreement. I've seen enough Raider camps to understand that sentiment. Death would be preferable to what these motherfuckers do to people.

Still… I'm leaving them behind to die…

It's either that or leave them in their cells. They clearly don't want that.

"Alright", I said, nodding. "Danse, take a gun, watch the entrance."

The relief spreading between the remaining prisoners was palpable. "Thanks, tin man." The others muttered their agreement

Danse hesitated for a heartbeat before retrieving a handgun from one of the guards and moved out into the hall. As he did, I strode to the woman's cell and broke the door open with another sharp snap. Once her hands were free, I moved to the second cage. The man within was barely able to stand, but he still stared up at me, tears in his eyes.

"Damon", the former Paladin called from the hall as I broke open the seventh cell. "They haven't come in yet." There was a concerned edge on his voice.

They haven't come in yet? I stepped into the cage and grabbed the chain's bracket. What are they waiting-

My world exploded.

Blinding white light drowned everything out, and the ringing in my ears would have been deafening if it hadn't been coming from them. Pain lanced through my right side, then my shoulder, and I felt something slam into my back hard enough to drive the air from my lungs.

I've been blown up enough times to know what that feels like.

As my vision cleared, I found myself staring up at the ceiling through the bars of the cell. Bars that were supposed to be facing the wall. While I couldn't hear the siren blaring in my ears, I saw my shield's status bar was depleted. My entire body ached, my right side pulsing with waves of pain. I glanced down to find the occupant of the cell on my chest. Or what remained of the young girl. Her left side had been blown away entirely, dead, glazed eyes staring back at me.

They blew up their own prisoners… My head was still swimming from being tossed across the room, but that thought managed to make its way through my beleaguered mind.

These are Raiders, I should have expected that from these bastards. They blew up their own goddamn prisoners. Even the lowest of Insurrectionists didn't do that. I wanted to say to hell with recovering Danse. To hell with Haylen's request. These fuckers deserved to die. Every single one of them.

But even as rage boiled through every square millimeter of my body, I knew that was stupid. I couldn't take on 400 armed fighters, no matter how poorly trained, in the position I'm in now. Right now, I need to get out of here and get Danse and Haylen to safety.

A faint shout made its way through the ringing in my ears. Who was yelling? Danse?

"Damon!?"

I felt someone beside me and, when I turned to look, the Synth was standing there, struggling with the cage.

"Damon goddammit snap out of it! I need your help! I can't lift this!"

No time to think right now, I need to get moving. Fortunately, the cage had been blown straight away from the wall and landed with the open door face down.

Rolling the body off of my chest and setting her aside, I twisted-

And pain speared through my right shoulder. Something was damaged, but that doesn't matter in a fight. What matters is moving.

Sharp lances jabbing into my arm, I gritted my teeth and twisted so I could get my back against the bars and legs under me. I tensed and pushed against the heavy steel cell. It slowly started shifting, a dull groan coming from the bars as they took weight they were never supposed to. My right side was burning, but I couldn't let that stop me; they'd be moving into the building now, and I need to be ready.

After what seemed like an eternity, I had the weight of the cage supported and, pulling with my left hand, shifted it off to the side. It rolled over and slammed to the concrete floor with a boom.

Unburdened from the cell, I looked around the now dust-filled room. Four other prisoners were still standing: the woman who had been the one to speak, the third one I'd freed, a man who was probably the same age as her, another, a younger man who was still gathering himself off the concrete floor, maybe Danse's age, and a teenager with shaggy brown hair and faded, torn clothes, huddled in the far corner away from the collapsed wall.

The other captives I'd freed must have been standing too close to the blast; they were both dead, the older man missing half of his face. Body parts from the others were scattered across the room.

Somehow, the MK18 was clamped to my back, and the combat rifle I'd taken was still on its sling.

"Go", I ordered, my voice hoarse, nodding to the exit. Danse didn't hesitate, he turned and slipped into the hall, handgun at the ready. Now that there were only four… Should I bring them with us? Hell getting Danse out would be hard enough but leaving them here now…

Danse is my priority, but if they stay here, they're dead.

The two men ambled after Danse. It probably wasn't the best idea, they both looked unsteady, but at least they were moving in the right direction.

I turned to the woman, who still looked shell-shocked, her eyes glazed and wandering, hand to a bleeding wound on the side of her head. "Come with me."

She blinked, as though the words didn't register.

We don't have time for this. I stalked forward and took hold of her arm with my left hand. "We need to go." The boy was still cramming himself in the corner. "Hey! If you want to live, you need to come with me."

He shook his head violently and, when I took a step toward him, he shoved away from me, trying to make himself smaller.

Alarms were going off in my head. The woman seemed cooperative enough, but I can't haul two people around with me and keep everyone alive.

"Please", I said, and even I could hear the urgency in my voice, "we need to go."

The teenager didn't respond.

Someone grabbed at my arm. I turned to see the woman trying to pry herself from my grip.

"Take him", she rasped. "I'll be fine."

She didn't look fine, hell she looked like she was about to collapse, but we didn't have time to argue. I nodded, releasing her, and grabbed the terrified kid. He squirmed and writhed in my grasp.

"Stop! Please- please just let me go! Let me go!" His voice was shrill, bordering on horrified.

This was going to make things difficult. "Calm down", I barked as I pulled him over my shoulder. It didn't work. He continued trying to break free.

Gunshots erupted in the hall. Our time was up. Hell, it was way passed up.

I tested my right arm as I moved into the hall ahead of the woman. Pain throbbed through my shoulder and chest as I raised and lowered it, but nothing serious. Hopefully that meant it was just a muscle or ligament strain.

Danse was leaning into the staircase, firing his confiscated handgun down toward whatever Raiders were trying to move up toward us. He glanced at me with the kid over my shoulder, still squirming, but nowhere near as much as he had been.

"I'll take him."

He'd take the kid? It would make fighting a lot easier with a compromised arm.

There was no time to argue about it. I nodded, pulling the teenager from my shoulder and set him beside Danse.

The former Paladin moved aside to allow me to take his position on the staircase. "Hey, what's your name son?" he asked as I sighted down to the first floor.

We wouldn't be able to fight our way out down the stairs. As far as I knew, there was only one staircase, and I don't have the ammunition to deal with 400 Raiders. That left the roof.

"Newton", he said quietly.

Someone peeked around the corner and I rewarded them with a bullet to the left eye. My shoulder panged in protest as the rifle kicked into it, but it was pain I could deal with.

"Alright Newton, we're going to get you out of here, but you need to do exactly what we say. Got it?"

"How?" the teenager asked, half whimpering.

"I'm a Paladin with the Brotherhood of Steel, and Damon there is a Knight. Everything will be okay."

Well, if the Brotherhood leadership hadn't revoked our ranks, that was technically true.

"Our only option is the roof", I said, squeezing off another round into the corner to keep our attackers at bay.

"Understood. Okay, I want you all to stay right behind me. We need to go fast and you can't stop for anything."

"We get you", the woman replied.

"Good." Danse sidled up next to me. "On your go."

I counted down from five, waiting for another Raider to try their luck. At two, three of the bastards did at once. The first two had their heads blown away before they could get more than a few rounds off, and the third scurried back behind cover. As soon as she did, I slipped across the staircase and dumped my magazine into the corners they were hiding behind.

The five raced up the stairs and, once my rifle's bolt locked open, I followed. I swapped a fresh magazine in and chambered a new round just in time to hear footsteps pound up to the second floor behind me. As I reached the third story, I turned, sighted on the corner, and dropped a Raider who came careening around it.

Now was a perfect time for the last concussion charge I had on me.

My arm throbbed again as I primed the charge and tossed it back down the stairs. It detonated at my back as I jogged after the other three. I had one grenade on me in case of emergencies. I think this counts

Once I reached the first intersection, I knelt in the center and pulled the grenade from my belt. Right hand still holding the rifle trained on the top of the stairs, I pulled the pin with my left thumb and kept the spoon depressed. It didn't take more than 10 seconds for the pounding footsteps to start up the staircase. Before they could crest it onto the third floor, I began firing once again. After the fifth round punished my shoulder with its kick, I let the spoon go, gave the grenade a two count, and lobbed it into the staircase.

Without waiting to see the results, I started after the others once again. The explosive went off with a whump and the concussion hit me in the back. That would at least keep them busy for a bit.

When I caught up with Danse and the freed captives, they were at the service door to the roof. It was propped open and the former Paladin was scanning the area beyond.

"Looks clear", he said, glancing at me.

I nodded. "We've got thirty seconds."

A report cracked from somewhere in the hills to the west.

Haylen. Of course she hadn't followed my orders.

"On me." I ducked out of the door and double-checked the roof. It was flat with a railing around its edge but, other than that, nothing for Raiders to use as cover.

There were a half dozen dead Raiders sprawled in the space between us and the perimeter. The Scribe did good work. Even better, since there was very little by way of protection in this area, it was free of living ones too. That was probably a result of the others dropping dead from sniper fire.

Peeking over the edge, it looked as though the downclimb would be pretty simple. There were plenty of ledges and features to hold onto, most almost thick enough to stand on.

"Danse first, then the two of you", I pointed at the two men. "After they're down, you", I motioned to the last two tagalongs, "are with me. Once you get to the bottom, stay tucked against the building, I'll cross and clear for you to follow."

The Paladin looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He was used to being combat effective. He was used to being in power armor. A sprint across 150 meters of open ground, then up another 300 meters of hill was suicide without cover. I'm wearing Mjolnir. There's a reason for that.

"Understood." As soon as the word left his mouth, the former Brotherhood soldier walked to the edge and climbed over the railing. An instant later, he disappeared beneath it as he started his downclimb.

A moment later, the two men followed.

The teenager cautiously approached and, after a moment's hesitation, dropped over the edge as well.

"Damon", the woman called. "I can't do it."

I turned to her. "Why?"

She motioned to her right leg, blood spilling down the outside. "It's getting hard to walk. I don't think I can climb."

Shit. I've gotten them here, I'm not going to let something like that stop me.

Swinging the door shut, I slammed my boot into the bottom hinge, bending it beyond usability. That would give us a few more seconds.

After another quick sweep of the area to ensure it was clear, I turned my back to the woman and knelt.

"Let's go."

"Are- are you-" she cut herself off and grabbed on.

"I won't be able to hold you, wrap your arms around my neck." That felt… odd to say, but it wasn't like she'd be able to strangle me.

The woman did, and I climbed over the edge. Danse and Newton were about halfway down and gunfire was still occasionally sounding from Haylen's position. I hope she isn't saying put…

As I reached the halfway point, my right shoulder screaming, in protest, the other two reached ground level. We needed to move faster, at this pace-

The instant I put weight on my right foot, the concrete piece I was on gave way. The only thing I had a hold of was an exhaust pipe with my right hand, and suddenly I was hanging from it. The six-centimeter-wide steel tube's groan was only matched by my own as it forced itself through my gritted teeth. The pain radiating from the joint surged anew and I scrambled to find another hand or foothold. Banging was coming from the door above.

After a few seconds, I found purchase, but that few seconds of dangling by my injured arm was agony. Panting, I took a few heartbeats to allow the pain to subside ever so slightly and finished the downclimb.

Once my boots touched the ground, the woman dropped from my back and staggered toward the wall.

"Thank you."

I nodded. The hard part was still yet to come. I have a 200-meter sprint ahead of me across open ground, my arm was throbbing almost as bad as it had been right after the explosion, and an entire base of Raiders bearing down on us. Haylen had them stuck for now, but there were too many of the bastards, soon they'd get past her fire with sheer numbers.

Bang.

Twisting around, I pointed my rifle straight up and sighted it on the edge of the roof. No more than a second later, a Raider's head appeared at the edge and I put a round through the bottom of their chin.

Danse's handgun joined in as another two came into view.

The Paladin's slide locked back and he slapped a fresh magazine in. "GO!"

He was right, standing here and fighting however many of those freaks came out would only buy the rest more time. I needed to trust him to keep the five of them safe for the next few seconds. Hopefully, Haylen could see what was going on and adjust.

As he started firing again, I launched myself into the void between the building and perimeter. My feet pounded against the pitted concrete, every stride jarring my arm and sending pain lancing into my chest. That was fine though, that was pain I could deal with, an injury that wasn't fatal.

Halfway across the no man's land, gunfire started kicking up chunks of concrete around me, one hit me in the back of the leg, but none of it slowed me. I have one goal, and that's to get out of the perimeter so I can cover the others.

That's the only thing that matters.

A few seconds later, I crossed what was left of the fence surrounding the base and skidded to a stop. My shoulder was throbbing, but it wasn't important. Turning to the others, I dropped to a knee and began firing.

By this point, there were at least half a dozen Raiders on the roof, with another four hanging over the edge, dead. Those were the first to go. Unfortunately, my confiscated rifle wasn't sighted in well, and it took me four shots to work out I needed to aim about a meter low and to the left. With iron sights, at this range, that wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done.

As the sixth Raider fell, more poured out onto the roof. Danse must have realized they couldn't wait any longer because he ushered the freed captives forward into the opening. A shot rang out behind me and I watched as one of the men on the roof tumbled over the railing to land head first in a splatter of blood. Good, Haylen had adjusted.

I began scanning the rest of the base. The Raiders were beginning to get more adventurous. I saw glimpses of them peering out from behind surrounding buildings. Switching between targets, trying to keep the group of painfully slow-moving rescuees alive was difficult. The task was made even harder by my injured shoulder and lousy firearm.

Miss high. Wide left. Hit the corner.

My shooting was sloppy. If I kept missing, one of these bastards would get an open shot.

The rifle's bolt locked open and I didn't bother reloading. I need kill shots, and in my current state, that means I need something I'm comfortable with.

Casting the combat rifle to the side, I pulled my MK18 from its mag clamp. The precision-made rifle felt natural as I pulled it into my shoulder, sighting through the high-quality scope on the nearest corner of a building at my 2 o'clock.

An instant later, the head of a Raider appeared around it and I squeezed the trigger.

The high velocity 7.62mm round crashed into the bridge of her nose and turned her head into a tapestry on the wall behind her. My shoulder panged even harder with the heavier kick, but if that's what it takes.

My rifle barked again, and a Raider tumbled from one of the roofs. And then another fell to a shot straight through his neck that almost decapitated him.

It boomed again and again and, just as the group reached me, the last round slammed into a particularly brave Raider that tried his luck with a sprint of his own. The woman had a noticeable limp now and Newton had to help her begin the climb toward Haylen's position.

Now I had another decision I didn't think I'd need to make: do I stay at the base of the hill and provide covering fire, or move up with them to provide physical protection. Neither was a good option, but the choice was made for me when a surge of Raiders rushed from their cover. A higher pitched, staccato crack sounded from the top of the hill and a few of the attackers tumbled to the ground, but there had to be 50 or 60 of them. I wouldn't be able to drop all of them before they reached us.

Rifle reloaded, I snatched the confiscated weapon off the ground and backpedaled up the hill, firing one-handed into the Raiders as I went. With the uneven ground and my shoulder, the shots weren't good, but the rounds hit hard enough, they didn't need to be. Between Haylen and I, six of the bastards hit the pavement within the first 30 meters.

As bullets began peppering the hillside around me, I turned to run after the others. Those shots weren't accurate, but it only took one. They were going too slow though; it wasn't just about getting up the hillside, we needed space.

Slamming a new mag into the combat rifle I shouted, "Danse!" The Paladin glanced at me just in time to catch the weapon hurtling at his head. I spun around again and shouldered my MK18. The rifle kicked against my shoulder as I spent the rest of that magazine firing on the advancing force. Another four tumbled to the ground, but more were coming from behind. There was no coordination, barely any covering fire, but the mass of bodies was so overwhelming, they almost didn't need it. We'd managed to down, what 10? That's barely worth talking about.

Too slow.

I reached the group before they'd made it a quarter of the way and placed myself between them and the Raiders as best I could. A barrage of incoming gunfire peppered the hillside, a few deflecting off my shields.

Danse and Haylen were both still firing back down the hill toward our pursuers but at this point, it was almost useless. They weren't hiding from sniper fire anymore, which means the few we manage to pick off on the way won't mean anything. What needs to happ-

A scream from behind me drew my attention away from the approaching mod. One of the men was tumbling down the hill, smearing blood along the way. I vaulted over the body, catching sight of the gunshot wound just below his left collarbone. The others didn't stop though, they kept scrambling toward relative safety at the top of the hill.

Just as I turned to re-engage, my world exploded again. Dirt and rock were blown into the air as I was thrown sideways. I came down on my back and slid to a stop.

No time. No time.

My head was ringing, again, and now my left leg throbbed to match my arm, but I don't have time to care about that right now.

I glanced up the hill. The others were still moving.

The group of Raiders was coming though. They reached the base of the hill before the small group was halfway up. We need more time. They need more time.

If the issue is numbers and space, I can make space.

"Danse", I shouted over the din of gunfire as I got my feet under me. Rounds started crashing into my shields more and more. They were draining quickly. I need to move. "Tell Haylen I'll meet you at the safe house tomorrow morning. We were there yesterday, she'll know where it is." I hope. The barn wasn't too deep in the woods, but it was hidden. She'd remembered where Listening Post Bravo was after not having been there for months. If not… tracking them down would be a pain in the ass, but things couldn't keep going like this.

I didn't wait for an answer. My legs were already carrying me north, angling away from the small group as they reached the crest of the hill and dropped behind cover. I didn't need every Raider to follow me, just enough to give the others some breathing room.

Apparently, they weren't concerned about it.

The entire onrushing mob shifted toward me, leaving the others to flee.

That… worked surprisingly well.

Unfortunately, I still had to pace myself. If I disappeared into the night, the Raiders would turn back for my charges.

So I instead slowed myself to match the charging force's pace, weaving up the hill toward relative safety. Now that I was moving, the spray of gunfire coming from them wasn't anywhere near as effective. One in every 40 rounds connected, and my shields were recharging almost as fast as the Raiders were draining them.

My legs continued driving and, even though my left was burning in protest, I didn't slow as I scrambled my way up the dirt and grass hillside.

There was no point in continuing to waste ammo on these assholes. If the Raider I'd captured earlier was telling the truth, whatever forces I dispatched here would be replaced by the thousands of Raiders waiting to the north.

As I crested the hill, I glanced back to see the now thinning crowd still chasing me. They were clearly running out of steam though. We were almost to the northwestern corner of the base, which was a good 600 meters from where we started. That was after the sprint to the perimeter. Half of the force was lagging behind, slowing to take more shots at me. I didn't need to take any more hits now. Ducking behind the crest, rounds cracked overhead. Beyond the crest, the rolling hills blended into forest and, I knew from my scouting earlier, all I had to do was head another half klick west and I'd be enveloped by it.

That's not what I was going to do, not yet anyway.

Turning, I clamped the MK18 to my back once more and drew my knife and handgun. This wasn't to give these assholes something to remember me by, it was to make sure their attention stayed on me, they knew I was the bigger threat.

The image of the dead young girl, body torn in half, laying on my chest flashed through my head.

This wasn't about payback.

My first victim appeared over the crest of the hill a few seconds later and took a 10mm bullet to the head for his trouble.

The second followed before the first had a chance to collapse and I surged forward.

I found myself amid a small group of the bastards.

And that was fine by me.

The burning in my shoulder faded into irrelevance as I flowed from one Raider to the next, stabbing, punching, kicking, and occasionally shooting. Time was almost at a standstill and my prey looked like they were moving through molasses.

Untrained and undisciplined, they didn't stand a chance.

Unfortunately, very few of the mob had held out long enough to reach the hill. A few seconds later, the only thing around me were a dozen or so corpses, throats torn open, skulls crushed, and gunshot wounds to the chest and head.

When I looked back down the hill, more and more Raiders were spilling from the base, but they weren't giving chase. Whoever was in charge finally regained control of their people. The rest that had chased me up were falling back while the others set up firing lines at the bottom of the hill. Just as I flung myself backward, a massive volley of gunfire ripped through the night.

It may not have been as many as I wanted, but it looked like enough. While it may have been drowned out by the gunfire below me, I didn't hear any fighting to my south.

Even so…

I wasn't satisfied.

There were 400 Raiders here, and thousands more in reserve. A few dozen were dead.

That meant nothing in the bigger picture. The Raiders weren't like the Institute or the Brotherhood, where approaching them with a more… tactful response would probably be the better option. These freaks weren't the type you could use conventional wisdom with, and it didn't appear they had any groups working to subvert their intent like the other two did. They attacked and brutalized people because they could. I'm no paragon of morality, but that was cowardice.

That was pathetic.

And it put Sanctuary and the rest of their outlying settlements at risk.

To hell with that.

Gunfire pouring from the base trickled to a halt, and when I stole a look over the hill's crest, the Raider force was still there, holding their lines. They weren't extending their pursuit, creating vulnerable groups to attack, or leaving openings to infiltrate their base. That meant not only was 'Castle' a competent leader, but he also had a competent team beneath him.

Organized Raiders. It would explain why this group, and the larger one it was a part of, had grown to the degree they had.

It's also the last thing I need right now.

The burning in my leg and shoulder came back full force, reminding me, once again, I was injured. If it hurt this bad with adrenaline pumping through me, it would be agonizing once it wore off.

Whatever, I'll deal with that when that happens. For now, I need to head south. The safehouse was a ways away, and maybe I could catch up with the others before they got too far.

With that in mind, I set off to the west, heading for the forest before turning south. The absolute last thing I need after that fight is to lead the Raiders back to the barn. That wouldn't just be dangerous, it would be embarrassing.

X

"Damon?" Haylen asked as she peered toward me, eyes squinting in the darkness. The moon wasn't as bright as it had been the night before, and without the benefit of NVS, she was clearly struggling to see.

"Yeah", I replied, edging my way into the small clearing where they'd stopped.

The Scribe sputtered a sigh of relief. "Holy shit. That wasn't what I expected at all."

Was she talking about me, or the 'rescue'?

They'd lost the other man after I separated, apparently, because there were only four now. That being said, they made good time considering the older woman's injuries. I began tracking their progress through the forest about seven klicks south of the base and caught up with them a few moments ago. They'd stopped to give the two now freed captives rest, both were heaving hard enough I heard them from 30 meters away. After sweeping the area to make sure they hadn't been followed, I slipped toward the line of bushes ringing their chosen stop.

"I can't believe we all got out alive", Newton muttered. He was sitting against a tree, head cradled in his hands.

"Right", the gruff, stilted voice of Danse came from behind Haylen. He was standing beside the older woman, clearly unhappy. "Why did you come find me?"

The Scribe whirled on him. "Because I asked him to. I didn't have anywhere else to go."

Fury crept across the ex-Paladin's face. "Didn't have anywhere else to go? Haylen, if you wanted to find me, why didn't you speak with Elder Maxson? Or Marsaul? Or Rhys?" The fire in his eyes landed on me. "You went to Damon? He's been butchering our people. How could you ask him for help? Besides it being a betrayal of everyone's trust, he could have killed you!"

She shrugged. "I know he could have but-" Haylen's voice caught in her throat. It had been a lot easier for her to say this to me than Danse, apparently.

I let the silence reign as the two former Brotherhood members watched one another. Not only was it not my place to say anything, arguing with Danse, again, held about as much interest as being back at the base. Hell, I'd rather be back there. At least there I could shoot something

The silence fled as Haylen cleared her throat.

"But the Brotherhood, what we're doing here, is it right? Are we doing the right thing?"

Surprise replaced the anger in Danse's eyes, but that quickly turned to disgust. "Is what we're doing here right? Haylen, how can you ask that after everything you saw? After fighting those abominations? After watching them kill Franklin? After hearing the stories from towns and settlements about what they've done?"

"What are we doing though, Danse?" The Scribe's voice was almost pleading. "Look at what we've done to the settlements around us. Diamond city is terrified of us, Goodneighbor is constantly a threat, the smaller towns in the city want nothing to do with us, we've started pillaging the farms in the area, leaving them without enough food on their own and-" Her voice broke and the small woman's eyes dropped to the ground.

"And what's the point of doing this, of claiming we're here trying to save people if we prosecute our best, most reliable Paladin for no reason?" She shook her head. "We aren't doing the things I joined the Brotherhood to do. Lyons… she-"

"No Haylen", Danse said, his voice suddenly soft. "We were on the wrong path, and Maxson helped set us straight. Synths- my kind- are dangerous. Like the Elder always says: unchecked technology will destroy us like the nuclear fire did." His eyes shot to me. "That being said, I won't say I'm not conflicted. The things I've done, the things I've felt. They're real, regardless of whether I'm a Synth or human. I can't help but wonder…" he trailed off, gaze still locked on me.

"No. I can't. I can't put myself above the good of the Brotherhood."

Hayley's shoulders shook. "Then what about me? I can't go back, not now." She shook her head violently. "I can't go back now. You say Lyons had us on the wrong path, but she's the reason I joined."

The Synth's face turned to the ground for a moment and he exhaled, long and deep. "I'm not saying Lyons wasn't a good person, but she didn't have the bigger picture in mind."

"Bigger picture?" Haylen asked, recoiling as if he'd struck her. "What bigger picture, Danse? You're telling me saving the Capital Wasteland, defeating the Enclave, and finishing Project Purity wasn't the 'bigger picture'?" I couldn't see her face, but her voice was borderline furious.

"You're telling me what she did there, what the Brotherhood did there wasn't the right thing to do?"

Danse didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the Scribe, jaw set. But his shoulders were slumped. He looked defeated. Haylen was just as ramrod stiff as she had been a moment ago.

"I don't know anymore", the former Paladin said, finally breaking the silence. "I've lived to serve the Brotherhood for years. I've always believed we were doing the right thing."

"Do you still believe that?"

He shrugged in an awkward, jerky motion. "I don't know what else to believe."

Haylen scoffed. "You don't know what else to believe, even if that belief means the people we've fought and sacrificed for kill you for no reason? After everything you've done?"

Silence fell over the small clearing as her words faded. Danse held her gaze for a few more heartbeats before his eyes fell to the dirt at his feet. Without responding, he stalked to the edge of the clearing, staring into the darkness.

"So…" the woman mused cautiously. She and Newton were staring at us. "Are you three not with the Brotherhood?"

Not with the Brotherhood? No, they want to kill at least two of us.

I shook my head. "No." The two of them weren't gasping for breath anymore, and we still have the better part of 30 klicks to get back to Sanctuary. "We need to get moving."

It's going to be a long night.

Chapter 46: The Hardest Questions…

“That isn’t my concern”, I said as we stopped one more time to allow Victoria and Newton to rest.

 

Haylen didn’t like that answer. “What do you mean it isn’t your concern. You want my help, right?”

 

I did another quick scan of the small, half-collapsed house they’d taken shelter in. The wooden floors were so rotted I didn’t want to risk breaking through the floor, so I stayed outside to post watch. We were moving so slow the sun had already broken the eastern horizon and was rising over the trees around us. It was damn near painful.

 

“You may be compromised now.” I shrugged. “I don’t intend to turn either of you over to the Brotherhood.”

 

“Well that’s a relief”, she shot back, sarcasm dripping from her voice, “for a minute there I was worried.” Her face grew stern. “That isn’t what I care about, what I care about is Danse’s safety. Danse’s safety and what I can do to help.”

 

“Give me information on the Brotherhood.”

 

The slender woman’s frown deepened. “For you to do what with?”

 

While her question was rhetorical, I wasn’t sure what the purpose was. “Wars are won with information.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She glanced back at the house. “And you expect me to give you information on the Brotherhood so you can destroy it?”

 

Doesn’t sound like you’re their biggest fan anymore. “Unless you give me a viable alternative.”

 

Cocking an eyebrow at me, the Scribe scoffed. “You’re open to alternatives?”

 

“If they’ll work.”

 

“And you would be the judge of that?”

 

I nodded.

 

“Right”, she muttered. “And what’s my other option? You gonna interrogate us?”

 

“I’m open to alternatives", I repeated.

 

Haylen frowned. “Real great way to build trust.”

 

Trust? I just humped across 50 klicks of this goddamn wasteland, fought the Brotherhood and a base full of pissed-off Raiders to find Danse, and you want to talk to me about trust?  

 

“I got you Danse.”

 

“And I said I’d help get Julian.”

 

That’s going to be difficult now. “How would you do that if they know you’re working with me?”

 

Haylen shrugged. “You don’t know that? Don’t you have one of our- their radios?” 

 

The one that’s been silent for the past week? “They learned my having access to their comms was bad for their health.”

 

“Okay, so we need to figure out if the Brotherhood knows I’m working with you.”

 

That one seemed pretty obvious. “There are only two other living people who knew about Listening Post Bravo, and they clearly used the one not here to figure it out.”

 

“Well you’re a fan of torture”, she muttered. 

 

Because that’s believable now.

 

They never saw her.

 

And how is that supposed to help?

 

Plausible deniability.

 

The Scribe frowned again. “Oh, why did I have to say that?” I cocked my head at her. “Don’t- don’t worry about it, not yet at least. I’ll figure out some way to help you get Julian back, but unless you can come up with some way you can use any information I or Danse might give you without hurting people who don’t deserve it, I’m not agreeing to that.”

 

People who don’t deserve it… That’s an extremely loose term in war and on a battlefield. 

 

I didn’t need to make any decision on that front yet. 

 

She fell silent and, after a moment, marched back into the house. We still had a few more minutes before moving out. The position of the sun, barely peeking above the treetops, played hell with shadows in the area. Add in the wind constantly shifting branches and some of the smaller trees, it appeared as if they were writhing around me. 

 

As those last few minutes ticked by, I paced the forest, searching for a tail I knew wasn’t there. It would have been almost impossible for any Raider to track us that far without my notice. The same goes for the Brotherhood. Following someone for the better part of eight hours through dense forest and rolling hills was difficult on its own. Doing so without detection is a skill I’m still working on. 

 

Haylen was almost daring me to torture her. I’d never tortured someone I know. Would I do it to get the job done? A year ago- hell, when I arrived here a few months ago, the answer would have been yes. 

 

Now I’m not so sure. 

 

The last two nights, I’ve been wondering why I should trust her. I still don’t know if I do, but I know I can . Any chance she’d been lying about the situation was now gone; the number of things the Brotherhood would have had to control was way too excessive for me to consider it. She's smart, follows instructions (for the most part), took initiative when she needed to, and stayed calm under pressure. If she had done what I told her to do back at the base, I doubt the other three get out alive.

 

I chose one hell of a time to grow a conscience.

 

Almost 15 minutes on the mark after they entered the house, Danse, Victoria, and Newton marched out, followed by Haylen.

 

Leading the group through the forest, I tried to stick to easier terrain, keeping my pace slow enough the two newly freed captives could cope. As painful as it was, I couldn’t blame them. Haylen had treated their wounds, but both were still in rough shape. They’d been held prisoners at the base for over a month which, in the Raiders’ custody, was longer than I expected most to survive. They’d told her the Raiders had captured them and several others from their settlements in the area when the group pillaged them. Newton came from a small farming community, while Victoria’s sounded a lot like Sanctuary without the fortifications. 

 

That only steeled my determination to make sure Sanctuary and its other settlements were properly equipped to handle what was, undoubtedly, coming their way. It wasn’t just the Brotherhood now, they have an army of Raiders they’ll have to contend with soon enough. Is there anything I can do to head that threat off? Probably not without exposing them to the Brotherhood, or Institute, if they decide to get adventurous. I told Nate I’d burn them to the ground if they went after either the Railroad or Sanctuary, that doesn’t mean they aren’t stupid, or overconfident, enough to try.

 

It was another hour before the now familiar sight of Sanctuary came into view. This time, we were approaching through the hills from the north, so the first glimpse of the settlement we caught through the trees was the fortified shack built on the hillside. 

 

“Stay here”, I said to the group.

 

I doubt whoever they had on guard was twitchy enough to accidentally put a round into one of my charges, but I don’t need to risk that after the last three days.

 

Marching forward, as soon as emerged from the trees ringing the post, someone called, “stop there!” from within.

 

As I followed the instruction, stopping at the treeline, I heard whoever it had been mutter, “oh shit”, before raising their voice again. “Sorry Damon, uh, you sort of surprised us.”

 

“There are four people with me”, I replied. 

 

“Got it. Again, sorry about the misunderstanding.”

 

Misunderstanding? “You're on watch”, I said as I turned to wave the others forward.

 

Victoria was still limping as they entered the clearing, but it was noticeably better than it had been the night prior. “Danse, stay up here with them”, I pointed to the shack.

 

“Why?”

 

“I still don’t know you’re not a threat.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, but Haylen placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll stay too.”

 

That was fine, except for one thing. I held out my hand. “Guns.”

 

The former Paladin rolled his eyes. “This is a joke.”

 

“No”, I replied, shaking my head.

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Haylen slipped her borrowed rifle’s sling over her head and handed it to me. Danse wasn’t happy about it, but he followed suit a few seconds later.

 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

 

Motioning for the two freed captives to follow, I started down the hill toward Sanctuary. The settlement was already buzzing with activity. The new wall was already constructed, and the one running along the river was half torn down. Floodlights were hung on the perimeter, and several others had been placed around the settlement in case someone did manage to get past the defenses.

 

“Wow”, Newton whispered as we crossed the wooden bridge that, while they’d reinforced it, still groaned under my weight.

 

“You can say that again kid”, Victoria said, almost as quietly. 

 

“Damon”, a woman I didn’t recognize, called from the far end of the bridge- no, that’s not true. She’s the woman who was on watch at the first guard station when I ‘attacked’ the settlement. “Come on, Preston and Sturges are looking at some stuff you’ll be interested in.”

 

‘You need to take a look at this.’ 

 

“What is it?”

 

She shook her head. “No clue, I’ve been running around all morning.”

 

Of course.

 

“These two need medical attention and food", I said, waving to the two behind me.

 

“Gotcha.” She turned into the settlement. “Hey, Neil!” A man walking down the neighborhood’s street turned to her. “We’ve got some new arrivals. Looks like things got pretty rough for ‘em.”

 

The large, brown-haired man trotted over and stopped beside her. “Sure thing.” He smiled warmly. The expression seemed to stretch farther than it should have on his round face. “My name’s Neil, who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

 

“Victoria and Newton”, I replied.

 

“ Vic is fine, thanks”, the older woman shot back.

 

Neil cocked an eyebrow at me, but his smile didn’t fade. “It’s good to meet you.” He looked them over for an instant before nodding. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up and in some fresh clothes. Susan will wanna check you out too.”

 

As he led the two of them toward the commons, Vic slapped the back of my arm. “Thanks for the rescue, Damon."

 

The other woman turned toward Nate’s house and started walking. “Come on.”

 

It would probably be a good idea to refer to her as something other than ‘the woman’.

 

I walked after her. “What’s your name?”

 

“Brenda.”

 

Catching up, I nodded.

 

“And for the record, I don’t hold you putting a knife to my throat against you.”

 

“I don’t hold your partners’ inattentiveness against you.”

 

Brenda burst into laughter. “That’s a good one, I’ll have to make sure I let Scott and Carter know.”

 

I nodded again. At least she seemed relaxed, which was good. If I’m going to work with these people, they need to trust I’m here to help, if not necessarily trust me.

 

When we entered Nate’s old house turned armory Owens, Sturges, and Preston were all standing around a table, a half dozen rifles laid across it. They… weren’t the standard fare though. They all looked brand new, made from high-quality steel, and no wood furniture. If anything, the weapons looked like my MK18.

 

“Damon”, Preston said, looking up from the table, “I think you’ll be interested in these.”

 

He probably didn’t mean the rifles themselves. 

 

“Where did you get them?”

 

“The-”

 

“The Railroad”, Sturges answered for him. His eyes didn't have the same fire they had a few days prior, but he still didn’t look all that happy to see me. 

 

That raised more questions than answers. “The Railroad dropped off a few guns and left?”

 

The engineer nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It was… they said they were from the Institute’s splinter cell. Said they came with a message too”, Preston said, glancing at the perpetually grease-covered man. “Or at least a quote: “next time, don’t let me think you’re dead for so long.””

 

Nate? My eyes narrowed. Nate sent weapons to the Railroad to deliver to Sanctuary. 

 

“These are from the Institute? Did you disassemble them to check for monitoring devices?”

 

Owens nodded. “The Railroad did when they got dropped off, but I’ve taken each of these apart. They’re clean as a whistle. Twice as shiny.”

 

“Wherever they got these, they were well taken care of.”

 

“Nah”, the armorer shook his head. “These are brand new. Metal still has nice sharp edges, no signs of rust, and the work looks top-notch. Unless these were made right before the bombs fell, then sealed in a Vault, I’d say they can’t be more than a week or two old.”

 

After depositing the two other rifles with the others in what used to be the kitchen, I marched to the table and picked up one of the weapons. I’m not so sure about his evidence, but the rifle definitely felt brand new. 

 

“How long ago did they drop these off?”

 

“Last night.”

 

The bolt was polished and slid through the upper receiver without a whisper. It felt smooth and crisp. Same with the trigger. I had to agree with Owens, these are well-made rifles. Very well made. The type of quality I'd expect from the Institute. If I had to guess, it was Li’s work in the ARD. 

 

“Did they say why they were giving us new hardware?”

 

Preston nodded. “Help get ready for the fight ahead of us. Said there’d be more too, as soon as the splinter cell could get us more safely.” The former Minuteman glanced at Sturges. “Care to tell us what that message means?”

 

Not really… “Nate thought I was dead. The message is him saying he’s working with Li who’s the one running that group.” I set the rifle down.

 

“Is he lying? Do you think this is the Institute trying to trap you?”

 

It seemed a little far-fetched, but it’s possible. “Nate told me he was working with Li. This is him trying to prove that.”

 

Sturges’ eyes narrowed. “Why?”

 

“I… appreciate that- Damon, I won’t say ‘I’m sorry’, you don’t need to hear that from me, but things haven't changed. I lost it after finding Shaun, after finding out what was happening. That isn’t an excuse though. If you’re interested, I still want to help you get back to your universe. The Institute needs to change for that to happen though.”

 

He’s dedicated to this. He wants my help changing the Institute. Him and Haylen. They want to change their respective organizations instead of outright destroying them. There was a key difference though: while I don’t trust the Scribe yet, I know I can trust her. I can’t trust Nate. He’s already proven he can be manipulated and manipulative. Shaun’s shrewd enough to play the long game here. If he already has access to the Railroad, he can hit them at any time. He doesn’t have a bead on me though.

 

“He wants my help.”

 

The engineer looked unsatisfied. “With?”

 

“He says he wants to change the Institute.”

 

“Change the Institute?” Preston asked. “How does he suppose you do that?”

 

I shrugged. “Don’t know. I don’t believe him.”

 

The former Minuteman nodded. “I understand that.” He looked down at the rifles on the table. “So what do we do with these then?”

 

“If they’re clean? Use them.”

 

Owens grunted. “They’re clean.”

 

“And what about this whole ‘change the Institute’ thing?” Sturges interjected. “We’re talkin' about makin' real change for the better. We can’t pass that chance up.”

 

“No”, I said, “I don’t trust Nate. He’s been taken advantage of once, lied to me already, and it almost got me killed.” I shook my head. “We can’t take that chance.”

 

The Synth’s eyes grew hard again. “You’re here, ain’t ya? Even though you did the same? You think that’s just you?”

 

What, so the aggravating bastard deserves the benefit of the doubt because you gave it to me?

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

This conversation wouldn’t get us anywhere. I need time to think, but I’m not sure what about. I don’t trust Nate and can’t trust him. Haylen and Danse were still up at the shack. I need to get them into the bunker.

 

“Is the Vault ready?” I asked.

 

Preston squinted at me but nodded slowly. “Yeah, set up with a place to sleep and food for a few weeks.”

 

Good. “Thanks.”

 

“Yeah… just keep me in the loop with that.”

 

“Understood”, I replied before turning for the door.

 

The activity outside was still almost frantic for the relatively small settlement. That was good, they’d made a lot of progress in the last few days.

 

Nate was trying to prove he’s trustworthy again, and he knew the best way to do it. I turned for the north end of Sanctuary.

 

Dammit. There were so many questions. Too much of this made sense, between Andrew’s escape, the Synth's knowledge about Nate’s presence in the splinter cell, and now this… Just like with Haylen, it’s possible the Institute was orchestrating it, but there were way too many unknowns.

 

And then there’s the fact they didn’t know I was still alive. How could they have planned for me to ambush them if they didn’t know I was alive? How could they have known I’d leave Nate alive to deliver that message?

 

The bridge groaned underneath me again as I crossed it.

 

It made too much goddamn sense. Nate being a part of Li’s group made too much sense. If that’s the case, and both he and the woman he’d been with, Jessica, were part of the splinter cell, had the guy I’d killed been too?

 

As my feet carried me back up the hill, I wanted to say I was getting ahead of myself, but I wasn’t so sure. Occam’s razor and all that. Was it just me being stubborn? Not wanting to trust Nate?

 

I don’t know…

 

“Damon”, Haylen called as I approached the shack. She and Danse were sitting on the small deck the settlers had built into it for entry. “I need to talk to you.”

 

Talk to me? “This way”, I said, waving them through the relatively thin forest toward the Vault. “What about?”

 

“I know how I can get back into the Brotherhood.”

 

“Haylen…”, the former Paladin grumbled, footsteps starting after us.

 

“No- no Danse.” She was looking up at me, eyes meeting mine through my visor. “He helped get you back, even if it was because he wanted info and he wanted Julian. He got you, Vic, and Newton out of that Raider base.”

 

“That doesn’t mean we need to trust him.”

 

Her head snapped to her former CO. “I know that, but we don’t have much choice, and I don’t intend to sacrifice friends if I can help it.”

 

When I glanced back, Danse was opening his mouth to respond. I don’t want to listen to these two bicker. “What plan?”

 

Haylen swallowed. “Well…” she hesitated, eyes faltering. “That’s the part I’m not a fan of. I’ll help you get Julian back, even give you some information on the Brotherhood that might help, but I’m only doing it if you agree to work with me. Like I said before: there are a lot of good people in the Brotherhood, and I don’t think they need to pay for Maxson’s mistakes.”

 

That sounded more than a little idealistic. It was at least a start and, if all else fails, I still have Danse.

 

“What’s your plan?”

 

“You were right when you said they’d know only Rhys or I would have known about Listening Post Bravo, but I don’t think they know I was there with you. You said you’d torture me if you had to. We…” She trailed off, a deep frown spreading across her face.

 

That’s something I’ve never been asked before.

 

“You want me to make it look like I tortured you for the information.”

 

We stopped near the Vault’s entrance, the large, sprocket-shaped elevator platform sitting on the hillside.

 

The Scribe looked sickly as she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

My stomach twinged. Torture is a tool, a useful one for information gathering if done right.

 

This… isn’t that.

 

“That seems extreme.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I know. It’s the only way it might have a chance to work though.” She tried flashing me a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “If they believe you captured and tortured me, they might be willing to let me back in. It’s the only thing I can think of.”

 

“It’s a ridiculous idea”, Danse hissed. “You want to let this son of a bitch intentionally hurt you for no reason?”

 

The Scribe looked back at him. “Yes. I do. But it isn’t for no reason; this is to hold up my end of our deal”, she met my gaze again, “and get him to help me fix things instead of burning it all to the ground.” 

 

She’s dedicated to it… I can’t deny that. “And if the only way to fix things is burning it to the ground?”

 

“I don’t believe that”, Haylen replied. “There are enough good people in the Brotherhood, they just… haven’t had the same wake-up call I did.”

 

“Indoctrination isn’t something you just turn off.”

 

She gave me a curt nod. “I know. It’ll never happen if you don’t give them the chance.”

 

So not only is the Scribe asking me to harm her to make it look like I’d captured and tortured her, but she’s asking me to believe the Brotherhood’s people can change. While Maxson is still alive to glue them together. With nothing besides her and Danse to help subvert his influence. 

 

“I’ll think about it”, I said, motioning to the platform. 

 

The large, sprocket-shaped elevator began carrying us down. Someone had disabled the alarm at some point and, as the lift thudded to a stop at the bottom of the shaft, I saw they’d cleaned out the entrance. Walking through the small gate and across the entrance’s catwalk, it became apparent they’d begun preparation for turning the Vault into a fallback position. There were boxes of supplies stacked in the entryway, new battery-operated floodlights, and what looked like a few rudimentary firing positions built out of sandbags and some of their ‘armor’ plates. It wasn’t a bad idea, provided they came up with an emergency exit. 

 

I led them down the hall and off to the first room branching on the right. It looked like, at one point, it had been an office, but the settlers had cleared it out, arranging a dozen beds around the large space. Tucked away in the far corner were more supplies and a small tank that, I assume, is water.

 

“So this is where you’re holding us prisoner”, Danse grumbled.

 

“Yes.” It was a lot better than most prisons I’ve seen.

 

The former Paladin stalked past me and dropped onto one of the beds. He didn’t say anything more, only stared at the floor between his boots. He sounded unhappy, but his voice didn’t have the same fire in it as when he’d confronted me before. Something was missing from the soldier…

 

“Damon”, Haylen said, stepping in front of me. “Look, I know you have a problem with the Brotherhood, and I know you tried to tell me what that was when we were flying out to the West Everett Estates. I agree with you, at least on some of it, and I want to fix that.”

 

The sentiment was nice, but it’s a little late for placation.

 

Is it? She’s trying, same as everyone else. 

 

So, what, I’m supposed to drop what I’m doing and turn this war into a recovery effort? That puts everyone in danger.

 

True, maybe I don’t stop fighting, but that doesn’t mean the Brotherhood has to be destroyed. 

 

“I said I’ll think about it. I’m not putting the people here at risk.”

 

She nodded solemnly. “I get that, you care about them, just like I care about my friends in the Brotherhood. I’m only trying to come to a compromise here, if you want to talk about it…” the small woman flashed me a smile, “I’m more than happy to.”

 

More than happy to. She wants to talk out a plan for this? Huh. I nodded in return.

 

“And thanks for saving Danse.” Haylen glanced back at her former CO, still staring at the ground. “I don’t think I need to tell you that wouldn’t have happened without you.”

 

“Correct.”

 

The Scribe smiled again, this time a little longer. “I knew you had a sense of humor in there.”

 

I shrugged. “On occasion.”

 

“Of course.” With that, Haylen turned and sat on the bed beside Danse’s and began pulling her outer layer of clothes off. I felt… odd standing there, like I was intruding on something that was happening, or maybe supposed to be happening between the two of them. Instead of continuing to stand there awkwardly, I marched out of the room and back toward the Vault’s entrance.

 

Haylen had given me little reason to doubt, and every reason to trust her over the past few days, despite how she showed up. Now she’s asking me to go along with this plan… 

 

Just like Nate.

 

No, not just like Nate. This is both easier and harder. It’s easier for me to believe the Scribe, but the ask, to try and change the Brotherhood instead of getting rid of it with no inside support, that’s a hard ask. Even if Nate is the one asking me to reform the Institute, at least there’s already a well-established splinter cell working to do just that.

 

Once I’d crossed back over the catwalk and stepped onto the lift, it groaned to life once again, taking me back to the surface.

 

How would I even do that? Yes, the Brotherhood has undergone a major shift before, and relatively recently, but that was due to a massive fight that, from the sounds of it, gutted their ranks. Haylen doesn’t want that to happen this time. It’s something I can’t disagree with, actually. If a change is the goal, the Brotherhood needs to remain relatively intact, otherwise it could become a much bigger problem than if it had been destroyed.

 

Thoughts and ideas continued careening through my head as I made my way back down the trail toward Sanctuary. 

 

If my uncertainty told me anything, it’s that I need help with this. I don’t have the experience to make this sort of decision, nor plan this kind of operation. But who the hell does ? No one in Sanctuary has ever dealt with a war, and I don’t have-

 

My feet stopped on the north side of the small wooden bridge leading into the settlement. 

 

The Railroad.

 

They may not have experience with war, but they do have experience at least working with a group trying to undermine an entrenched leadership. They, and by extension Li , might be the best option I have. 

 

But how can I get the Railroad’s help? It looks like Li is already looking for mine , but if the middle man doesn’t trust me…

 

It doesn’t matter, if it’s my best option here, I have to try. Maybe, after trying to work through a plan, we don’t come up with anything, and I end up going back to option A, but who knows maybe Haylen’s right. Maybe this is an opportunity for me to do something different.

 

With the thought in mind, my legs carried me across the gently groaning bridge, back toward the armory. 

 

Preston, Sturges, Owens, and now Alex were still there, talking.

 

“- weapons and supplies, we need to figure out how”, Preston was saying.

 

The engineer nodded. “I ain’t disagreeing with that, but we can’t do it at the risk of the Railroad.”

 

“Sturges, we all know how important they are to you”, Owens replied, “none of us want to put them in harm’s way. If Damon’s right though, we’re gonna need the best stuff we can get.” He motioned to the weapons on the table. “This is a good start, what if they can get us armor? Night vision? Hell, even radios . We-”

 

The conversation stopped and every gaze turned to me as I ducked into the living room. 

 

Sometimes I wish that didn’t happen…

 

Preston nodded to me. “What can we do for you Damon?”

 

Now that I was standing here, somehow the words weren’t forming. I met Sturges’ gaze. His eyes weren’t angry anymore, but they were guarded. I’m here to ask him to get me in touch with the Brotherhood? Again ?

 

Say it. That’s all I can do.

 

… Or maybe I get involved in this conversation first.

 

“There are safer ways to get supplies than having the Railroad deliver them. Drop points, intermediate meeting places, disguised shipments… I spent a lot of time tracking clandestine meetings, some of those tricks might help here.”

 

“Okay…” the grease-covered man mused. “You got our attention.”

 

He was offering me an opening?

 

“We need to start by prioritizing our needs…”

 

The next few hours were spent educating them on covert logistics. This was another subject I never had any direct experience with, but I spent enough time around intel officers analyzing these things, and even more attacks by them. You learn what to look for, and that can teach you how to plan your own.

 

“Different types of delivery will depend on the items”, Preston said. “That makes sense.” He was studying the half dozen pieces of paper scattered across the small table along with the area map I’d recovered from Listening Post Bravo. I’d drawn known patrol routes and Brotherhood positions across the Commonwealth, as well as danger spots for Raiders, Gunners, and Supermutants. If I’m being honest, it didn’t leave a lot of room to operate.

 

“This is what you’ve been doing for the past month?” Sturges asked after I finished.

 

I nodded. Intel gathering is the first step to any mission, and while I’ve never done anything like this, there are principles you can carry over to just about everything.

 

Alex leaned over the map. “Using normal caravan routes would be risky for anything obvious.” She reached for the list of supplies. “You think this’ll work? I mean, putting guns on some of them, even if they aren’t the new stuff the Railroad’s bringin' us, could still attract attention.”

 

“It would be more suspicious if there weren’t guns in those shipments.”

 

“So, what”, Owens said, “We load ‘em up with some of the older stuff we have back here?”

 

“Yes.” I nodded again. “If they’re stopped, guns like that won’t be a concern for the Brotherhood.”

 

Preston stretched his arms over his head. “Okay.” He looked at Sturges. “We need to get in touch with the Railroad again, talk to them about figuring this out.”

 

The engineer didn’t respond immediately, his eyes were fixed on me again. 

 

“Sturges… c’mon, this isn’t about that. We all know we need to be as prepared as possible. What’s he gonna do?”

 

Silence met the question as Sturges continued glaring at me. The former Minuteman looked at me, defeated.

 

“You gonna say anything?”

 

Am I going to say anything? What do I have to say?

 

“We need to cooperate. Both us with them, and you with me.”

 

“Yeah, I get that tin man”, the engineer finally said, voice low and quiet. “But a week and a little help won’t make them trust you. Or me trust you.”

 

“Then we meet with a representative somewhere safe. I need their help too. Haylen wants to figure out another way to beat the Brotherhood. I only have one. They, and the Institute splinter cell, are the only ones around here who might have another option.”

 

Alex cleared her throat. “Sturges, what’s he gotta do, huh? Is there anything that will make you feel comfortable getting in touch with the Railroad besides getting in touch with them and seeing what happens? I’m not saying what he did wasn’t wrong, but if we’re gonna do this, we need his help.”

 

More silence followed as the engineer’s gaze switched from me to Alex. He was struggling, hell even I could see the internal argument going on. He’s well aware of the danger Sanctuary and the rest of their network is in, the same way he’s aware he might be putting the Railroad in danger again. Unfortunately for him, they’re going to be in danger regardless of whether I meet with them or not. At the very least if we start working together, there’s a better chance for everyone involved. 

 

Eventually, he let out a long, ragged breath and dropped his eyes to the ground for an instant before meeting my gaze again.

 

“Fine. One slip up, though, and I’ll make sure this bites you in the ass.”

 

I nodded. “Understood.”

 

“Good.” He started for the door. “We’ll head to the same place as last time, according to your map, that should be far enough away from any dangerous areas to be safe.”

 

The last time we’d met… that was Oberland station, about 10 klicks south of here. I looked back at the map. 

 

Yeah, it was safe enough. There were a few Brotherhood outposts in the area since it was relatively close to the city, but they were far enough away watches and patrols wouldn’t come close enough to be a problem.

 

What’s the best way to do this, then. I’d prefer it just be Sturges and I; in any gunfight that involves the Brotherhood or Institute more people would be a liability, but we need them to get experience at some point. 

 

And more people who aren’t me would probably make things a little more comfortable for everyone else.

 

“Preston, I want a three-person team, the best you have.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You aren’t going alone?”

 

“No.” I shook my head. “This needs to be more than Sturges and I. He doesn’t trust me, and the Railroad doesn’t trust me.”

 

“Wow”, he said, a small smile slipping across his face. “That’s some impressive humility.”

 

Humility? I shook my head again. “Being realistic. This can’t fail.”

 

That may have been an exaggeration, but they all know what I meant: the more support we have, the better off we’ll be. If that means Sanctuary gets better equipment, even better. If that means we do come up with a less destructive method for neutralizing the Brotherhood, that’s good too.

 

As always, I have a fallback.

 

For now though, there isn’t much to do until Sturges sets up the meeting. 

 

I glanced out the door into the afternoon sun.

 

Things just keep getting better and better.

 

X

 

The next morning, I was awake by 0430 and performing a perimeter sweep while I waited for the others to get ready. It wasn’t necessary, but I’ve realized I don’t like static defense. Being the one who’s always dismantled it, I’m far too aware of its drawbacks. Sure, you have a well-established, well-defended position, but that works both ways. If someone’s assaulting your position, they know where you are, and they can be pretty much anywhere they want. Obviously, any static defense should have surprises in store for attackers, but the fundamentals are always going to be the same.

 

To that end, I preferred sneaking through the forests surrounding Sanctuary, also staying mobile and in unpredictable positions as opposed to sitting behind the settlement’s walls. I guess that’s the difference between someone who’s used to conventional warfare and someone who isn’t. 

 

By 0600, I’d completed the, entirely unnecessary, patrol and found my way back into the settlement. The sky was just beginning to brighten, and a few dozen of the citizens were starting their day. I still caught a few furtive glances, but most of them seem to have grown more comfortable with me around. Or less uncomfortable at least. 

 

Brenda, Julian, and one of the men who had been on post with her the night I’d performed my mock assault were waiting for me at the common house. Each of them was dressed for the short journey and was cradling rifles of their choice. I couldn’t help but notice Julian had adopted the scoped rifle I’d taken from one of the Raiders who attacked Sanctuary the first time I was here. I remember him saying he’d been the best shot outside of Preston when I came across them in Concord.

 

“Morning Damon”, Brenda said cheerily as I stopped in front of them. “This is Cole. He’s the one you damn near strangled the other day.”

 

The stocky, grim-faced man didn’t seem too happy to see me. That’s fine, I wasn’t the one who’d been kicking back while on watch. 

 

“It would be hard to get close enough to strangle someone paying attention.”

 

She smiled. “Yeah, we haven’t let him forget about it.”

 

“Good”, I replied. It was only half joking. It was time to get serious though. “I’m on point, Cole and Julian with Sturges, Brenda is rear guard.” I turned to the woman. “Stay 20 meters behind them.”

 

“Got it.” 

 

It would be a bit awkward since this is to get them used to moving as a team as much as it was for protection. That means we’ll have to use more traditional squad tactics, for now, and I’ll have to be far more careful to make sure we aren’t followed.

 

A few moments later, Sturges came marching over from the east side of the settlement. He was, likewise, out of his normal dirty white shirt and overalls, traded in for a jacket, vest, and cargo pants. The Synth was carrying an HK-33 like he’d used it before. Escorting a package with experience makes things easier.

 

“Everyone ready?” he asked, voice a mixture of enthusiasm and trepidation.

 

I nodded. “Let’s move.”

 

Leaving Sanctuary behind, we slipped through the forest and the sky brightened into morning, casting a burning red glow across the sickly trees and underbrush. 

 

With the small group, inexperienced with moving like this through potentially hostile ground, I maintained a slow, plodding pace, giving them time to orient themselves. This is something I recall vividly from my early days in the SPARTAN program before I was broken off. They need to figure out how they work together, and how they’re going to cover each other. It wasn’t a smooth process; more than once, Brenda found herself either left behind or practically up with the others. It was aggravating, but each time, I’d reset their formation and we’d keep moving. It slowed our progress, but it was necessary. They also weren’t very good at following commands, which was even more frustrating and, as far as stealth goes, they might as well be running through the forest, shouting their presence to anyone in earshot.

 

All part of the process…

 

Yeah, a process that, an hour in, already has me wishing I’d forgone the extra people and taken Sturges to Oberland myself.

 

It did get better as it went, and by the time we were nearing our destination, and the sky had gone from blood red to light orange, they were… fine. For never having done it before.

 

“Break here”, I said, voice low. We were stopped in a small gulley between two hills, the train station about 400 meters away, top of the next crest, and the group formed a… rough perimeter. “I’ll be back in ten.”

 

Who knows if anyone managed to follow us. If they did, I’d rather find out about it now than doing so once whoever was meeting us from the Railroad showed up. Not only would that turn this meeting into a gunfight, but it wouldn’t do wonders for my chances of getting the Railroad’s cooperation.

 

The sweep didn’t turn anything up besides a few animal carcasses that looked like they’d been eaten within the past few days. There were tracks made by the Brotherhood’s power armor a hundred meters or so south, but they were clearly old. 

 

“It’s clear”, I said as I rejoined the fireteam. My gaze found Sturges and he nodded, frowning.

 

Our approach was steep, and the footing sucked. With the ground consisting of more loose rock and gravel than sand, I had to be careful where I stepped. Twice, a foot began sliding out from under me before I could catch it. The others fared better, without being in a half-ton of armor, but at least it would make it obvious if anyone was following.

 

After another few minutes, we arrived at the small station, a half dozen abandoned, rusting railway cars littering the yard and ground around it. 

 

“Hey Damon”, Sturges said as we crested the last hill, “can you put your rifle away? This doesn’t need to get any worse than it already is.”

 

Put my rifle away? Disarm myself when I’m walking into an unknown situation? Diplomacy isn’t my thing, but that sounds like a really bad idea.

 

The Synth stopped. “Please. I brought you here, that means somethin'.”

 

Put my rifle away… Worst case scenario, I still have the 10mm handgun if I need it.

 

Clamping my rifle to the mag-strip on my back, I glanced at Brenda. “Set up a perimeter, you with Julian watching our south from there”, I pointed toward the collection of train cars, “and Cole, you’re by the tower.”

 

“Got it”, the young woman said and motioned for Julian to follow her. Cole wordlessly followed the instruction and, once they were in position, Sturges and I continued forward.

 

Despite my agreement to do this, my head was screaming at me this was a bad idea. We were completely exposed, very little by way of cover, and I could feel someone watching us. No doubt that was our contact, but it still put me on edge. The last time I saw any of these people, it had been to kill them, it’s possible they would do the same to me here.

 

They didn’t though, at least not outright.

 

This time, there were no corny passphrases, no call and response. As soon as we were standing in the center, a half dozen forms detached themselves from the trees on the opposite side of the station. I recognized two of them immediately: Deacon and Charlie. It was hard to miss the first man, still wearing his customary sunglasses. At least this time it was appropriate, with the sun spilling harsh, slowly bluing light across the landscape. 

 

As for the other four, I didn’t remember any of them, but they seemed to remember me. Each of them, including Deacon, was cradling a rifle of some sort. Most were smaller caliber, but Charlie was carrying some sort of belt-fed weapon, and I had no doubt Glory was hiding somewhere with a high caliber sniper.

 

They all had their weapons pointed in my general direction.

 

“Sturges”, Deacon said as he approached, his people fanning out to either side. My right hand tensed, yearning to reach for my sidearm. That isn’t the move here though. I’m here to make amends, not make things worse.

 

“Hey there Deacon. Sorry for the short notice.”

 

The Railroad agent shook his head. “It’s no problem.” He was, ostensibly, talking to Sturges, but his eyes never left me. I could feel them burning into mine through his dark-tinted sunglasses. “To what do we owe the pleasure of meeting the man who came to our home to kill us?”

 

“Things have changed”, the Synth replied. “I know you’re already planning on helping supply us, but if we’re gonna do it, Damon”, he motioned at me, “thinks we need to do it right. If we don’t, we’re just gonna put everyone in danger.”

 

“Go on.” His gaze still hadn’t left me.

 

“We’re puttin’ together a plan to help stop the Brotherhood, and getting your cooperation would go a long way to improving our chances. And we already know you wanna change the Institute. We can help there too.”

 

Deacon finally broke eye contact with me to meet the engineer’s gaze. “We know you’re going to fight the Brotherhood. It’s one of the reasons we agreed to help; can’t save any Synths if the Brotherhood’s killin' ‘em all.” He looked at me. “But what I don’t know is why you brought him .”

 

“He needs your help too.”

 

“Didn’t stop him from betraying us before.”

 

He’s right about that…

 

“I’m not looking for forgiveness Deacon, I’m looking for a way to get this done.” I shrugged. “I know you’re well informed enough to know I’m no longer with the Institute, and I’m sure as hell not with the Brotherhood.”

 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, you've been causing a whole lot of problems for our armored friends.”

 

“Yes…” Nothing I say will make him believe me. Still- even though I’m not looking for forgiveness, it’s the least I owe him- owe them . “I know it doesn’t mean much, but I am sorry for what I did. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out how to fix it.” 

 

“Apologies will mean something when they lead to results. So what’s this you need help with?”

 

Fair enough. “We have two ex-brotherhood members up at Sanctuary, a Scribe and Paladin. The Paladin is a Synth. Didn’t know it until a few weeks ago, went on the run after he found out. The Scribe started having doubts about the Brotherhood, went on the run, came up to Sanctuary to find me and help her track him down. The Scribe is helping me get Tommy’s brother back, and she has this idea about changing the Brotherhood instead of destroying it.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how to do that, but you, or Li, might have an idea.”

 

Suddenly, Deacon looked very interested. “One of the Brotherhood’s Paladins was a Synth ? Which one?”

 

“Danse.” Damn, if the Railroad with its intel gathering didn’t know about the circumstances either, Maxson must have worked hard to keep it quiet.

 

“You don’t say… He was one of their best people.” A thoughtful frown spread across his face and the muzzle of his rifle drifted to the ground. “And you want to find some way to change the Brotherhood without taking them down. I’m sure you have some ideas.”

 

I nodded. “Nick Valentine thinks we can use Danse as an alternative to Maxson’s rule. I’m not so sure, and we don’t have a starting point.”

 

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, it’s what Madison’s been doing at the Institute. Not as successful as we’d like, but it’s progressing. Slowly.” He paused again. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking with half of his face hidden by those glasses. 

 

“You know, your buddy’s been pretty involved in their operation since you two had your falling out there.”

 

My buddy . Yeah. “So I’ve heard.”

 

“Think he’s playing another long game?”

 

“Don’t know. I don’t plan on giving him the chance to.”

 

“You know he’s the one responsible for that shipment of guns, right?”

 

And? “What’s your point?”

 

“Just seems a little odd to me’s all. There’s no way Shaun or Ayo would let us operate under the radar, even if Nate had a plan to take you and us down long-term. They’ve wanted us gone for a long time.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Almost succeeded a few times.”

 

“You’re saying you think he isn’t lying.”

 

Deacon shrugged. “Not sure yet. Li trusts him. Her people trust him.”

 

“He hasn’t tried to kill any of them.”

 

“Touche.” The ghost of a smile crossed his face. “But I’m standing here aren’t I?”

 

An involuntary exhale escaped and I nodded again. “... Yeah.”

 

“So you want to reform the Brotherhood.”

 

Not me. “Haylen does.”

 

“The Scribe?” I nodded. “She say why?”

 

“She’s figured out how dangerous they are, especially given a leader like Maxson. She still believes they can do the right thing though.” I shrugged again. “I’m just here to find the best way to neutralize the threat.”

 

Deacon hummed, but didn’t respond. It looked like he was at least considering it, which is a good thing. If I get him to help, I might get better cooperation out of Haylen. If I do that… Maybe this crazy plan of hers to get Julian back would work.

 

“First thing’s first: we gotta figure out if this is actually possible.” He turned to Sturges. “What’s your read here? You gonna give him the benefit of the doubt?”

 

I felt the engineer’s gaze fall on the side of my head. That wasn’t a question I wanted to be asked, but it was 100% fair, the same way if he said ‘no’ that would also be 100% fair.

 

“I brought him here”, Sturges said. 

 

The Railroad agent nodded. “Alright, sounds like we’re a go then.” He turned back to his people. “Hey Charlie, let Dez know I went up to Sanctuary. Damon’ll bring me back once we're done there.” Deacon looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Won’t you big guy?”

 

It feels like that’s most of what my duties have become: escorting people back and forth across the goddamn Commonwealth. 

 

“Yes.”

 

The man’s escort shifted uncomfortably. “You sure about this?”

 

Deacon nodded. “Well, I ain’t bringing him back there. The most he can do if he is playing us is kill me. I’m sure Dez will be happy to have me out of her hair. If I’m not back in a few days, assume the worst.”

 

The confidence in his voice seemed to resonate with the five people around him.

 

Charlie nodded. “Got it.”

 

“Great. Head out, we’ll leave once you’re gone.”

 

After another brief hesitation, the Railroad guard twirled a finger in the air, and the others followed him back down the slope to the west. 

 

“So”, Deacon said, turning back to me, “you’ve got the Railroad’s foremost expert on clandestine and subversive operations. What are you gonna do with him?”

 

I looked around the raised segment of landscape we were standing on pointedly. “Get somewhere less vulnerable.”

 

“That seems like a reasonable idea.”

 

Unclamping my rifle, I started back east and, as we passed their positions the others followed. The return trip was as uneventful as the journey out, which is fine by me. Deacon was far more experienced moving quietly, so he spent his time keeping the others in check. That was a relief; having to backtrack constantly, paying as much attention to them as I did our surroundings was a pain in my ass. 

 

Even so, they did do better. It wasn’t good, or even passable, but any experience is good, especially since they’ll have time to debrief once we get back to Sanctuary. 

 

The sun was just reaching its peak when we returned to the settlement. 

 

“Preston”, Sturges said as we met the former Minuteman just inside the wall, “This is Deacon. He’s one of the Railroad’s most senior members. He’s here to figure out what we’re gonna do with our new friends up there, and plan some supply routes.”

 

Preston extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

 

“You too”, Deacon said, shaking the man’s hand. “Gotta say, I’m impressed with what you all managed to do with this place.” He was gazing at the settlement’s various fortifications, most of which were finished with their latest changes.

 

“Thanks. We’ve had a lot of help over the past few months.”

 

MacCready was, as usual, hovering behind Preston, eyeing the new arrival. Owens and Vincent were there as well, along with Alex. I didn’t miss Valentine lurking further up the street, watching our arrival. I’m not sure what to make of that. He knows of the Railroad, but has he ever interacted with them? What does he think of them? What do they think of him ?

 

“And you’re now helping other people.” Deacon nodded. “It’s something we don’t see enough of around the Commonwealth.”

 

The former Minuteman smiled. “I appreciate that. So, how do you wanna do this?”

 

“Well, I’d like to start by getting some food in me, then I think Damon and I need to have a little heart-to-heart.”

 

Both of them looked at me and understanding flashed through Preston’s eyes. “That makes sense. We’ll leave you to it then. I’ll be around, come find me when you want to talk.”

 

“Will do.”

 

With that, he and the other three men turned to leave. Alex and Julian spoke quietly for a moment before following along with Brenda and Cole. 

 

Deacon slipped his pack off and pulled out a meal bar of some sort. 

 

“Where do you have these two situated?” he asked, pulling a bite from the stiff-looking piece of food.

 

I nodded up the hill behind Sanctuary. “Vault 111.”

 

“Good choice.” He glanced further into the settlement at the dozens of people either busy working on the walls, crops, or meandering around. “Got anywhere private we can talk?”

 

“By the Vault.”

 

The Railroad agent shrugged. “Works for me.”

 

As we began walking, Nick, who was still watching us from the north side of the settlement, disappeared into one of the buildings, but I didn’t miss how his subtly glowing yellow eyes lingered on us as he did. Now probably isn’t the best time to ask about that, maybe Sturges knows something about it.

 

By the time Deacon was done eating his meal bar, we were walking up the hills toward the Vault.

 

“Here’s good enough”, Deacon said a few meters from the crumbling, rusted gate marking the bunker’s perimeter. It was well out of earshot of anyone, including the shack overlooking the hills above us. His eyes locked on my visor once again, and the firm set in his jaw was the same as it had been the night I’d betrayed them. “I’m gonna ask a few questions, and if I don’t like your answers I’m gone.”

 

This was coming eventually… I nodded.

 

“We all know you went to the church to kill us. Now I don’t want any bullshit about how you felt like it was the wrong thing to do. Why didn’t you?”

 

Why didn’t I? That didn’t seem like the question he was actually asking…

 

“You mean why should you believe I won’t do it in the future.”

 

“If you wanna be more straightforward about it, yes.”

 

Those are two different answers. “I didn’t attack you back then because I didn’t want to hurt Cass and Tommy again. I don’t plan on attacking you now because you aren’t the ones putting the people I’m trying to protect in danger.”

 

Deacon frowned. “That isn’t very convincing. It seems like, if you decide we’re a threat, you might come after us again.”

 

I shook my head. “I think you’re doing the right thing. I have every reason to help you.”

 

“Uh huh… and you’re saying the only reason you spared us the first go around was Cass and Tommy?”

 

“I assume you don’t want me to lie.” A small smirk found its way onto the agent’s face and he nodded. “Then yes, that’s the only reason. I’ve had plenty of alone time to think about it. You may not like hearing it, but that’s the reason.” I shifted as Deacon continued gazing at me. I’ve been wanting to ask since we met with him at Oberland but… that didn’t seem like the right place.

 

“How are they?”

 

The man’s smile broadened. “They’re doing great. Cass is basically Glory’s little sister now and Tommy is giving Tinker Tom a run for his money. They’re in good hands.”

 

Letting the breath I’d been holding out, I nodded. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it”, Deacon said, his demeanor growing serious once again. “So, let’s say someone decided to help you get back to your universe. What’s to stop you from coming after us again when they tell you to?”

 

That’s a good question. The only answer I can think of is that it would be the wrong thing to do. That probably won’t go far with the Railroad though. So what do I say? 

 

“Because… I meant what I told Nate: I’m not going to do other people’s killing anymore just because I’m supposed to. Don’t ask me about morality, that isn’t my purview, but I have enough to not like doing something.”

 

Silence drifted back across the three of us as Deacon continued studying me. Maybe saying my grip on morals is tenuous at best is the wrong answer, but it’s the answer I have to give. What kept me from doing it last time, hurting Cass and Tommy again, was a morality of sorts, I guess, but to anyone else saying the reason I didn’t kill a few dozen other people was my connection with them probably sounded bad.

 

It is what it is. If that’s how I kept myself from doing something bad that time, then it’s fine. Things have changed since then, and worrying about it now won’t do me any good.

 

Shrugging mentally, I cocked my head at the still quiet Railroad agent.

 

Eventually, he gave me a curt nod. “For now, we’ll see what happens. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.”

 

That concern, apparently, assuaged for the moment, we continued up the hill toward Vault 111. Haylen and Danse had been in there for a day now. Plenty of food and water, but nothing to do. Those sorts of waits always drive me insane.

 

Even once we were enveloped in the bunker’s darkness, just like in the Railroad’s cave system under the church, Deacon kept his sunglasses on. It was an odd habit, but I guess I can’t say much considering I’m constantly wearing a suit of power armor.

 

Just like escorting the two former Brotherhood members in, it was odd to see the place clean. The first time I was down here, to retrieve Nora’s body, the skeletal remains, refuse, and dead bugs littered the floor. Now, while it wasn’t spotless, the place was passable. In a world where I’ve spent most of my time in the wilderness or in mostly collapsed buildings, seeing an area this clean was odd.

 

The last time I’d seen it was in the Institute. 

 

“Stop”, I said as we reached the door to where Haylen and Danse were staying.

 

An echoing boom sounded through the hall as I pounded on the steel door twice before keying it open. The two of them were sitting up on their beds, looking at me expectantly.

 

I ducked into the room, followed by Deacon and Sturges. 

 

“Who are these two”, the former Paladin asked as the smaller men entered.

 

The engineer stepped forward. “I’m Sturges, the handyman for Sanctuary.” He motioned at the Railroad agent. “This is Deacon. He’s here to do some planning.”

 

Danse’s eyes narrowed. “Planning for…?”

 

“Haylens idea”, I said.

 

At the mention of her scheme, the Scribe stood. “Have you decided to help?”

 

“Not yet”, I replied, shaking my head. “That’s what he’s here for.”

 

Deacon walked to one of the room’s beds and sat down, laying his rifle off to the side. “Yep. I heard one of the Brotherhood’s Paladins was a Synth too. When I heard who it was, well, it got me interested.” I couldn’t tell for sure with the dark-tinted glasses, his gaze seemed sharp. Sharper than it had been this morning with me.

 

“Paladin Danse. Ironic that you of all people ended up being a Synth.”

 

“Hey”, Haylen said, stepping forward, “we-”

 

“Aren’t here to discuss that?” the agent finished. The chuckle that followed wasn’t friendly. “Oh, I think it’s very important to discuss Scribe Haylen.”

 

The former Paladin was utterly motionless, eyes burning into Deacon, muscles coiled tight. I stepped forward to stand beside the agent. The last thing I need is for Danse to do something stupid. His eyes flicked to me for an instant and he, with visible effort, forced himself to relax.

 

“Why?” he asked, voice icy.

 

“Oh, what with your history of hating anything non-human, the many, many stories of your exploits. Between the number of missions you volunteered for to clean out Supermutant groups, Ghoul havens, and assaults on outlying Synth forces, you’ve built quite a reputation.” Deacon reached into his pack and pulled out a bottle of water. “That’s to say nothing of you tracking down escaped gen III Synths on the East Coast outside of the Railroad’s reach. That’s why Maxson chose you to lead the Commonwealth’s reconnaissance effort, is it not?”

 

“I still don’t see what this has to do with the discussion at hand.”

 

The Railroad agent didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a long, slow drink from the bottle, taking his time to replace the cap and carefully set it on the bed beside him.

 

“It matters because you’ve shown a fanatic devotion to the Brotherhood of Steel, especially since it started this much more aggressive campaign. If Scribe Haylen’s idea of changing the Brotherhood has any chance of working, it can’t have interference from someone like you.”

 

“Wait”, Haylen said, still standing, “you’re saying you don’t want Danse’s help with this?”

 

Deacon shook his head. “I’m ain't saying that, I’m saying this type of operation takes time and resources. It’s incredibly risky, and if anything undermines it, you can kiss your ass goodbye.” He leaned forward, eyes drilling into Danse from behind his glasses. “Having someone as zealous as the Paladin Synth here on our side could be very useful. If he’s on our side.”

 

Silence bloomed in the large room, the two men staring each other down. It sounds like Deacon has some idea of what to do with the Brotherhood, but now I’m interested in hearing some of Danse’s past. He’s completely different from the only other Paladin I’ve met, Marsaul. What’s the game here?

 

“Elder Maxson is a better man than you all seem to think”, Danse said slowly. “You vilify him as the man who has come to destroy the Institute and subjugate the Commonwealth, but have you seen the results of our patrols here?” The former Paladin turned to me for another short moment. “I know you have considering your encounters with them. Most smaller Raider gangs in the area are either inactive or gone, the Ghoul infestation has been brought under control, and we’ve provided medicines and care to some of the smaller settlements. Yes, we are here to remove the threat Synths pose, but we’re also here to help build up the Commonwealth, to turn it into something like the Capital Wasteland.”

 

The Railroad agent nodded. “I don’t disagree with any of that. Security doesn’t excuse genocide.”

 

“I-” Danse faltered, breaking eye contact with Deacon.

 

He smiled. “I’m well aware of the current state of the Capital Wasteland. It’s been, as your leadership so eloquently puts it, ‘sanitized’.” The man shook his head. “I won’t let that happen here. I know what fear drives people to do, and hatred is a poor camouflage for it.”

 

An image of the Covenant attack flashed through my head as he said that last sentence. “I know what fear drives people to do, and hatred is a poor camouflage for it.”

 

Hatred huh? A camouflage for fear.

 

The former Paladin didn’t seem interested in a response. He was still leaned over, elbows resting on his legs, eyes were still on the steel floor between his boots, hands clenched into fists.

 

“Scribe Haylen, Damon told me you’ve had a… change of heart so to speak.” She nodded slowly. “I believe you. Why do you think the Brotherhood is afraid of ‘non-humans’?” Deacon didn’t try to hide his disgust at the phrase.

 

“Maxson’s reason for fearing Synths-”

 

The Railroad agent shook his head. “Synths are only the current boogieman. It’ll be something else as soon as it needs to be. You’ll get no argument from me about the likes of Supermutants, at least not those currently in the area. The Brotherhood attacks Ghouls too. People who, for all intents and purposes, are just like you and me. Why are they afraid?”

 

She chewed on her lower lip, clearly unsure of how to answer.

 

“Because they’re different”, Deacon said after a few seconds of silence. “They aren’t ‘normal humans’. That’s to say nothing of whether or not they’re good or bad people . It’s easy to get people under one banner if you give them something to hate, it’s easy to get people to hate something they’re afraid of, and what’s easier to be afraid of than something you don’t understand.”

 

Haylen watched the man as he offered her a small smile.

 

“It’s easy to get people under one banner if you give them something to hate, it’s easy to get people to hate something they’re afraid of, and what’s easier to be afraid of than something you don’t understand.”

 

Hatred… He’s saying hatred can be used as a catalyst to get someone to do just about anything. 

 

Like whatever they’re ordered, regardless of whether it’s the right thing to do.

 

“So you’re saying the Brotherhood is scared?” 

 

Deacon shook his head. “The people in the Brotherhood are scared.” He looked at Danse who was still staring at the deck. “And you two are now faced with the uncertainty that lies beyond that fear. You’ve been faced with the realization that nothing you’ve been told is the truth, and now you don’t know what to think.” Another smile flickered across the man’s face. This one, somehow, felt incredibly sad. “That isn’t anything unique to you though.”

 

The Scribe’s mouth formed into a small ‘o’. “Is- is that how you think we can do this? Show people what we’ve thought isn’t true?”

 

“Yes and no. We don’t have time to do it effectively, this sort of thing takes years . I think you two know better than most that, once someone is set in their ways, it’s damn near impossible to change.” Deacon looked up at me. “But we can get to some of them, the ones, like you, who had already been questioning their faith in the cause. It won’t be easy though, social pressure is an incredibly powerful thing.” His eyes returned to Danse one more time. “Which is why having you would be immeasurable. You’re someone everyone in the Brotherhood knows, many of whom have interacted with. Many will still write you off, that’s how brainwashing works, but if your contribution saves one life, isn’t that worth it?”

 

The room grew quiet again as every eye, including mine, turned to Danse. Everything Deacon said hit home, not just with my knowledge of the Brotherhood, but how ONI treated us- treated me . In that small, terrified kid, they found someone they could turn into a weapon. Turn that fear into anger and hatred. I can’t say I didn’t- I can’t say I don’t hate the Covenant and what they did, but that isn’t who ONI sicced me on most of the time was it? Like he said: you can use hate to justify anything. I know I did. 

 

Is it possible to get through to some of those in the Brotherhood too? If so, it would mean the cohesive, almost monolithic threat they posed would become fractured and disjointed. What was left would be far easier to deal with.

 

And it meant fewer people would get caught in the fighting.

 

“I know you want an answer now”, Danse said, voice low and hoarse. “But you’re asking me to turn my back on everything I’ve known for the past 10 years. I-” He looked up to meet my eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

Those eyes were something I’ve not only seen before, I’ve had them. Recently. They’re the eyes of someone who’s at a crossroads, who has to make a decision, every choice impossible.

 

But at the end of the day, I had to make my choice, and Danse will have to make his. I like to think I made the right one.

 

Will he?

Chapter 47: Trying New Things

Deacon, Haylen, and Danse continued talking, mostly Deacon and Haylen while the former Paladin watched. Most of the conversation was the Railroad agent trying to better understand Haylen’s situation. When she mentioned her plan about having me ‘torture’ her to sell the story she was captured, and that’s how I knew to look at Listening Post Bravo, Deacon’s brow furrowed.

 

“That’s going to an extreme pretty quickly.”

 

The Scribe shrugged. “It’s the most believable thing I can come up with. How else can I explain going AWOL, or Damon looking for Danse?”

 

“Have you ever been tortured before?” Deacon asked, glancing at me. “It isn’t pleasant.”

 

“No…” She swallowed. “Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t like I want to do it or anything. I can’t think of another way.”

 

“You’re aware they won’t just take your word for it, right? They’ll question you, maybe even interrogate you themselves. A man like Maxson doesn’t survive by being careless.”

 

Deacon lapsed into a thoughtful silence as he studied the small woman. Torturing Haylen for optics sits wrong with me, but she’s right; I can’t think of another way to get her back into the Brotherhood. If I want any shot of getting Julian back, I need her in the Brotherhood. Who knows, maybe she’d be able to help spread doubt in their ranks, make Danse’s job easier.

 

If he agrees.

 

The Synth had spent most of the conversation with his eyes glued to the deck between his boots. When he did engage with the other two, it was generally limited to terse statements with as few words as possible. 

 

For our part, Sturges and I had stayed off to the side. This operation isn’t my type of mission, and the engineer didn’t seem to have any interest in getting involved either. I can’t say I’m not getting bored. Outside of providing tactical analysis, I haven’t been much use here, and standing around while other people come up with a plan has never been my forte.

 

If staying here won’t be of any use… I turned to Sturges. “I’m going to have Preston send a few guards up here.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Where are you goin'?”

 

“Somewhere more interesting.”

 

“You’re part of this planning, right?”

 

I shook my head. “This type of operation is beyond my scope. Let me know if they need something shot.”

 

Sturges allowed himself a small smirk and nodded. 

 

Exiting the room, I made my way back through the Vault and took the cog-shaped lift to the surface. What I’d told Sturges wasn’t strictly true. While the others had been talking, two things were running through my mind: Valentine’s interest at a distance of Deacon, and the fact that I haven’t had the opportunity to run any recon in almost a week. With the radio out of commission, I have no way of knowing what the Brotherhood, and by extension, the Institute are doing. I don’t know if there have been any major engagements, troop movements, or other new developments. In this kind of fight, one where my only support is a small, relatively inexperienced force, I need every bit of information I can get.

 

Making my way down the path toward Sanctuary, my right side continued aching. Being blown up a few times can do that. Conventional wisdom says I should give my arm and leg a few more days to recuperate, but war never waits for you to recover. If it’s going to keep moving, I am too.

 

First thing’s first though; without me there, there’s a chance Danse tries something dumb. Deacon is probably a competent fighter, and both he and Sturges have firearms, but everyone will be safer if there’s a deterrent to keep everything in check. Plus, if we’re going to use Danse as some sort of chess piece, he’ll be more useful without functionally superfluous holes.

 

After asking one of the settlers, I found Preston near the southeast wall, the one I’d used to sneak in during my mock attack. He was inspecting the newly finished barrier that, per my instructions, was almost 15 meters away from the shoreline. It wasn’t much space, but it was as much as the defenders had room for. There were a pair of floodlights mounted on top of the three-meter-high steel and wood wall.

 

“Hey Damon”, he called with a wave, “what’s up?”

 

“Sturges and Deacon are up at the bunker. They could use a few guards.”

 

The former Minuteman frowned. “You think there might be trouble?”

 

“Don’t want to find out.”

 

He nodded. “I gotcha. Why aren’t you up there anymore?”

 

“They don’t need me at the moment.” And there are a few other things I need to do.

 

“Alright, I’ll get MacCready and one of his guys up there.”

 

“Thanks”, I said with a nod. 

 

“So what are you gonna do instead?” Preston asked as I turned to leave.

 

I cocked my head at him.

 

He shook his. “Oh no, don’t give me that. You’d be up there if you didn’t have something else you wanna do. If you’re planning on ‘attacking’ Sanctuary again, I’ll tell the guards to shoot you on sight.”

 

The man looked serious, but I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “I’m more fluent in gunfire than they are.”

 

“Hey, all I’m asking is to be let in on it if you’re planning something like that again”, he said through a smile. “I’ve had first-row seats.”

 

Fair enough. “No. There are a few things I need to take care of. I’ll be running a scouting mission into the city tonight. I’m leaving in a few hours and probably won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

 

“Ah, so you’re growing restless up here in our little slice of the Commonwealth.”

 

You could say that.

 

“Too much going on for me to not be informed.” I began back toward the settlement’s main road. “I’ll let you know before I head out.”

 

Preston snorted behind me. “Thanks for the generosity.”

 

The conversation with Valentine needed to happen first. If he has information on Deacon or the Railroad that might be valuable, I can't wait until tomorrow to learn it.

 

Finding him wasn't difficult. Both he and Perkins were in their new ‘detective agency’. I’m guessing there isn’t a huge demand for finding missing persons in a small neighborhood.

 

Andrew was there too. Considering what had happened over the last few days, I hadn't thought much about the Synth. I still need to figure out what to do with him. 

 

“Damon”, the rough-looking Synth greeted me as I ducked into the living room. They had several small lights secured to walls around the interior and patched up most of the holes so sunlight no longer streamed through the walls. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company? I haven’t put out any ‘help needed signs’. You do seem pretty good at finding missing people though. Are you trying to put me out of business?”

 

I shook my head. “I want to know why you’re suspicious of the Railroad.”

 

There was a brief moment of silence before Valentine burst into laughter.

 

Andrew looked back and forth between the two of us, curious. He only knew one side of the operation, Li's people. It makes sense he'd want to learn more about the outside elements.

 

“That’ll never get old, tin can”, the detective said through his fits. “Direct and to the point, if only everyone was like that, my job would be so much easier.” His laughter died and, even though his face wasn’t in the best shape, I could see the discomfort in the frown that took its place. “I wouldn’t say I’m suspicious of them, just… Oh, how do I put it?”

 

“He doesn’t agree with everything they do”, Perkins said from her desk. She had several folders in front of her. From the brief glimpses I got, it looked like she had or was making profiles for various settlements in the area. “Or rather, he thinks they could do more, especially when it comes to hiding their escapees.”

 

That sounded a lot like what Curie said.

 

“Care to explain?”

 

Valentine stood from his desk and paced behind it. “I get why they wipe their memories and hide ‘em in the general populace; it makes any gen 3 almost impossible to find and, if they are captured, leaves nothing for the Institute to learn about.” The Synth pulled something long and thin from his pocket and began chewing on it. “It gives them a new lease on life. But I don’t know if that’s all they should be doing for them. With the amount of fear and hate floating around the Commonwealth, anyone new is automatically considered suspicious. For the first little while at least, newly escaped Synths stick out pretty good and if they do, everyone suspects ‘em.” He stopped his pacing and looked at Perkins. “How many cases did we have over the last few years?”

 

The smartly dressed (for this hellhole) woman tapped her chin. “Hmmm, we’ve had at least two dozen in the last year or so. I think most turned out to be false alarms.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

… That led me to another question. “What happened to the ones that weren’t?”

 

“False alarms?” the detective asked. I nodded. “Most would be kicked out, the city’s guards didn’t hurt the Synths… or at least that’s what they said. But… let’s say some of ‘em turned up beat up, stabbed, or shot and the guards had no clue who it might be.”

 

That isn’t anything unique to this place. I’ve seen it happen plenty in the outer colonies. 

 

“Don’t get me wrong here”, he continued, “I’m glad they're here, but the Railroad’s been around long enough to have expanded their operations.”

 

“I think Nick’s being a bit uncharitable”, Perkins interjected. She glanced at Andrew who was still studying us with a small frown. His demeanor reminded me of ONI intel officers sitting in on a brief; observant, quietly absorbing every piece of information he could. The difference was it didn't feel like he was filing that info away to use to gut someone at a later date “We know they have helped the ones that get discovered or put in danger. We don’t know what they’re dealing with. The Institute has a lot of eyes and ears. Plus, with the ability to teleport , they could show up anywhere at any time. That’s risky for an organization as small as the Railroad.”

 

Yeah… I know about that one.

 

At least it seems like the splinter cell is trying to change that. Is there anything I can do to help? It might be something I discuss with Deacon.

 

“Things will change soon. They have to considering what’s happening.”

 

Ellie nodded. “I don’t have to be good at analysis to know that.” She glanced at Valentine. “I think we just hope that means they’ll be able to help more.”

 

Well… none of that warrants concern. Yet. “Thanks for indulging me.”

 

Valentine smirked. “Any time big guy, but if you stop by too often, I’m gonna start charging you time. I know you don’t got any money, so you can just pay me back by helping us with jobs.”

 

Uh-huh.

 

I turned to leave but, before I could go anywhere, Andrew stood. "Hey, Damon, I talked with Preston and Sturges. I know you were going to take me to the Railroad but- I think I want to help out around here."

 

Okay. .. "You're free to do what you want. My only objective was to keep you away from the Brotherhood and Institute." He would be a massive help to Sanctuary if he's anywhere near as competent as Sturges. "I don't think anyone here would object to your assistance."

 

Valentine's scratchy, slightly distorted laugh sounded again. "Told you."

 

"Yeah- well, I just wanted to be sure."

 

"I'm not your boss", I replied. "Anything else?"

 

The Synth shook his head and I marched back out into the late morning sun.

 

If he was going to help, it may be better spent at other settlements. Sanctuary isn't finished, nowhere close, but unless the others in their network were as well fortified, they'd be in more need of engineering expertise.

 

That's something I can mention if they don't figure it out themselves.

 

So the Railroad’s limitation is manpower. They’ve got the organization and the competence. Considering how active the cell is, I doubt I’ve seen everyone working with them, but it can’t be many. If I were to put a number on it, at most they’re operating with 100 people. Even with the relatively limited number of inhabitants in the Commonwealth, that’s nowhere near enough to do what Curie and Valentine are suggesting.

 

Maybe that’s something I can fix.

 

That isn’t a priority though.

 

While walking toward the gate, something began bothering me. This situation keeps getting more and more complicated; first, it was the Brotherhood, then Supermutants. Now the Institute is a problem, but they have its own separate faction. Raiders are moving into the area, and on top of all that, there’s still the regular populace to deal with. 

 

My feet stopped just inside the wall.

 

None of my operations ever dealt with this many variables, and never on this scale. I need to reduce this down, or it’s going to fall apart. 

 

That means I need time to think, and the best way to do that…

 

Turning, I marched back toward the settlement’s main road. I don’t know if it’s a great idea to leave in the daylight, but standing around Sanctuary won’t do anyone any good.

 

“Preston”, I called when I neared the former Minuteman. He was with a group of settlers to assemble what looked like several more planters. He’d taken his hat and ridiculous jacket off, now wearing a short sleeve shirt. 

 

Preston stood from the wooden box and nodded. “What’s up?”

 

“Change of plans, I’m heading out. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

 

He frowned. “Okay… Mind-” he shook his head. “Never mind, you’d have told me already. Alright, we have your radio frequency if we get in trouble.”

 

As I left the settlement, a half dozen targets came to mind. I want to get back in the fighting, but I need to recon first. It’s been almost a week since I was in the city, and diving back into it just because I’m uncomfortable isn’t the right move. 

 

Sneaking across the wasteland in broad daylight isn’t ideal. Even with the forests and hills, someone could catch sight of me and, until I’m more than a few klicks away from Sanctuary, that could be a problem. My journey wasn’t what was occupying my mind though. What am I supposed to do with this situation? There are too many variables and too many parties pulling in different directions. 

 

The deliberations occupied me until I neared Cambridge. That was my first stop. Since Nate led an attack on the stronghold, probably as retaliation for the Brotherhood’s assault on the Institute, they’d changed their security entirely. Half of the posted guards were in T60, while the other half stayed behind raised walls with firing slots not dissimilar to Sanctuary’s. They also had foot patrols walking a perimeter around their fortifications. Those five-man teams were also outfitted in power armor. This assault force was starting to look like a more conventional military occupation. Do they have reserve forces they can pull on from the Capital Wastelands?

 

After an hour of circling the town, staying well clear of the patrols, I didn’t see anything that would be cause for alarm. Without having the opportunity to sneak inside the relatively small town, I don’t know what changes have happened within, but I’d be willing to bet it's something to help slow down any intruders teleporting in.

 

While I may not be privy to their comms anymore, as far as I know, they don’t know you can block the Institute’s Molecular Relay with a sufficiently powerful radio jammer. Their activity seemed normal enough, which probably means the Institute hasn’t made any moves in the area recently. 

 

Slipping away from Cambridge, my thoughts drifted back to the problem I was out here to deal with. My next target, a Supermutant camp just north of Boston’s crumbling outskirts a half dozen kilometers from here, would take me 45 minutes to reach. I’d have to be careful of the recon forces the Brotherhood had been sending their way, no doubt because they intend to hit it, but other than that, the real threats were in the city.

 

How do I simplify this scenario? There are four parties at play that could be considered allies: Sanctuary and its network of settlements, the Railroad, Li’s group within the Institute (Nate notwithstanding), and these people Haylen is convinced don’t like what Maxson is doing.

 

I ducked beneath a tree’s canopy as I heard a Vertibird approach from the west, toward Cambridge. There were no other outposts large enough to support one in that direction, so either it came from Cambridge, or it’s a sortie.

 

Two minutes later, the ungainly-looking VTOL sailed overhead, heading northeast. It was moving in the direction of the Supermutant encampment. Last time I was in this area, there were no Brotherhood forces around there…

 

When I resumed my march, I increased the pace, swinging further north to avoid any potential Brotherhood forces. 

 

By the time I neared the encampment, the sun was well into its journey toward the western horizon. 

 

And then I figured out why that Vertibird flew in this direction. 

 

Brotherhood soldiers were patrolling the perimeter of the neighborhood. It was about the same size as the West Everett Estates, where I found Cass, Tommy, and Julian a few months ago. This one doesn’t have as many Supermutants or didn’t because the ones that were here were nothing more than charred bone and ash laying in a pile on the north edge of the town.

 

That’s one thing I don’t mind the Brotherhood doing: killing Supermutants. They’re pretty damn good at that.

 

As I circled the south edge of the now Brotherhood-controlled settlement, I noticed the VTOL I’d seen fly overhead sitting in the center of it. Fresh forces were disembarking from the aircraft, most of which were in power armor, and eight waiting to board. So they’re rotating people through the encampment, which means they intend to hold onto it.

 

That bird was a perfect target: stationary, on the ground, rotors spinning, but nowhere near fast enough for takeoff, no-

 

Crunch.

 

A footstep sounded to my left, maybe a dozen meters away. 

 

Then another.

 

Dammit.

 

There are times I have to remind myself the Brotherhood isn’t the same force it was when it arrived. Learning quickly is an infuriating habit of theirs. Not only that, but they’re getting better at anticipating what I might do. A few weeks ago, they wouldn’t have had forces patrolling temporarily vulnerable positions.

 

Now…

 

I slowly, carefully slipped away from the thicket of trees I’d crouched behind for visual cover, scanning the forest around me. No one had mobilized from the base, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more forces hiding in the forest.

 

Sloppy. I’d been too focused on my own thoughts and not on what I’m doing. Great way to get found, and I don’t need the Brotherhood on my ass right now.

 

This isn’t good. If they’ve set up concealed observation-

 

“Primary target”, I hear someone whisper from my left, “200 yards southeast of the perim-”

 

Son of a bitch .

 

My rifle snapped up and I put a half dozen rounds into the woods. The noise doesn't matter, I need to move.

 

How the hell did I let myself get caught off guard by such a simple setup?

 

Sprinting through the woods, I heard the Vertibird’s rotors start beating at the air harder and harder. Laser bolts lanced after me from the hidden patrol’s position. None of them landed, but they have eyes on me. Now with the VTOL in the air, the forest won’t provide good enough visual cover to avoid detection.

 

That means I have to head for the city. Not what I want to do with the Brotherhood actively attempting to kill me.

 

Too late now…

 

My armored boots pounded against the dirt and underbrush as I weaved between trees and rock outcroppings. I’m two klicks from the suburbs and another three from the city proper. With that VTOL tracking me, and more probably to follow, I can’t head straight for downtown.

 

Great job Damon.

 

As if it knew I was thinking about it, the Vertibird appeared above the canopy over my left shoulder. Dodging through the woods like I was, I’d be a very difficult target to hit, but that chin gun would chew through everything around me, and I know from experience they aren’t shy about using it. To make things better, there were door gunners on either side, Brotherhood soldiers in T60 power armor both carrying miniguns.

 

They want me bad . I almost smiled.

 

Rounding a large rock outcropping, I slid to a stop, aimed into the sky continuing on my heading, and waited a few heartbeats. 

 

Sure enough, the VTOL came soaring over, still at a low attack angle. My rifle barked and a round slammed into the right door gunner’s helmet. As expected, the 7.62mm round wasn’t powerful enough to punch through the T60’s armor, but it did rock them. Hard. The aircraft banked to begin its turn, and I watched the soldier fall back into the passenger compartment. 

 

Before it had a chance to complete the maneuver, I was running again, this time straight south.

 

My mind raced as I considered my options. If it takes me too long to get to the city, they’ll call in more support, and that’s when things really get difficult. From my last count, they usually keep three Vertibirds at Cambridge. Without hardware to take the Vertibirds themselves out, that’s a losing fight.

 

Vaulting a rock, I dropped into a small ravine and rolled to maintain momentum. I heard the VTOL complete its turn and its turbines whine to full throttle as I scrambled up the other side.

 

If the birds are on standby, that’s five minutes to get them airborne, another two or three to get to my position, and maybe one more to set up a formation. That means at most I have nine minutes before things get bad. 

 

So nine minutes to cross almost five klicks, through forest and suburbs, dodging the one already hounding me.

 

Trees and bushes exploded around me and an instant later, the buzz of a minigun cut through the rapid thump ing of the rotors and whine of the turbine. I continued sprinting through the hail of gunfire. They know they probably won’t kill me with that, but if they’re starting with it instead of the chin gun, that probably means the pilot is more focused on slowing me down. That can’t happen.

 

Half a dozen rounds slammed into my back and left leg, dropping my shields by a quarter and sending me stumbling into a tree. My right shoulder bounced off of it, the still injured joint flaring in protest, but I grit my teeth and resumed my race toward the city. 

 

Every time I reached a small clearing, the miniguns would spin back up and rain bullets down around me. The gunfire wasn’t accurate, but that clearly wasn’t what they were going for. 

 

Soon enough, they’d figure out that isn’t going to work, then one of two things would happen. Either they’d switch to the chin gun, which would limit their maneuverability to direct approaches, or bring out a larger caliber weapon for more accurate shots. Neither of those things was appealing, but these guys aren’t dumb enough to keep doing the same thing.

 

That means I have to change it up first.

 

Dropping to the ground, I slid under a large, exposed root and regained my footing just in time to see another break in the canopy ahead. Upping my pace as fast as I dared in the tight confines of the forest, I tried to get a little extra distance between myself and the VTOL. 

 

An instant later, I burst into the small clearing, leaping over a group of boulders directly in my path, and made for the opposite end a dozen meters away. Just before I reached the trees, I dropped into a slide again, twisting as I came to a stop and aimed my rifle at the top of the trees.

 

My gunsights came up just as the Vertibird emerged over them.

 

Flying straight at me.

 

So they went with option one.

 

My finger squeezed the trigger and the MK-18 sent a high-velocity round crashing into the aircraft’s canopy. Just like with the T60 armor, it didn’t have the punch to dig through the thick reinforced glass.

 

The rifle barked twice more, both slamming into the now splintered surface before the Vertibird’s chin gun spat a salvo at me.

 

Turns out my change of tact was a good call. Without the ability to see clearly through the damaged canopy, the first trio of rounds missed high, and the pilot pulled out of the strafe before letting off any more from its primary weapon.

 

I don’t know how many more of these it would take to break through, but I don’t want to find out, not with the clock ticking.

 

Again, I found myself wishing I had the McMillan or rocket launcher.

 

No point in worrying about it now.

 

Before the Vertibird cleared the break in the forest, I was up and running again, legs pumping, left burning from the explosion the night before. Sometimes I have to wonder if I should be doing some of the things I do. 

 

Again, no point in worrying about it now.

 

With less than half a click to go to reach the suburbs and- I checked my HUD for the time- five minutes left, I’m making good time. On top of that, the near-shattered canopy would probably give the pilot second thoughts about trying something like that strafe again. They’ll go with option two now since it keeps the pilot out of danger.

 

And they'd be smart to wait until they have support.

 

With that in mind, I again increased my pace as the forest began thinning. With the already poor cover dissipating, getting to the-

 

Minigun fire ripped through the trees again. This time though, it was wild, the spread much larger than it had been. Risking a glance up from the obstacles in front of me, I caught sight of the Vertibird a hundred or so meters off the top of the trees, hovering at the forest’s edge. Its cockpit was facing away from me.

 

So I was only half right.

 

A handful of seconds later, I was at the tree line, crossing a narrow road that ran south into the suburbs. The Vertibird hadn’t moved from its position, almost hovering directly over me now. It was a target almost too good to pass up, but I don’t have the time, nor the right weapon to take advantage of that, and they know it.

 

Even so… why wouldn’t they take a position better suited to keep me-

 

Oh shit.

 

As I shot across another street toward a small row of half-collapsed, burned-out houses, I heard another set of pounding rotors, just beneath the ones above me. They were coming from directly ahead, toward the city. They’d scrambled at least one VTOL from somewhere else in the city, closer than Cambridge, or maybe already on a sortie. The reason the first Vertibird had positioned itself there was to mask the sound of their approach.

 

Clever mfers.

 

I’d just reached the row of crumbling buildings when the newcomer emerged over the city’s dilapidated skyline, a klick or so distant.

 

It didn’t wait to close the distance. As soon as we were in sight of each other, the large caliber gun on it opened up. A kilometer isn’t a short distance to shoot a handheld weapon, even for a SPARTAN, especially on the move. For a hard-mounted, high-power gun like the one on the Vertibird? It was target practice.

 

The house in front of me disintegrated under the barrage of projectiles and I dove to the side to avoid the worst of the shrapnel. 

 

When I came down on my right arm, rolling to keep myself from becoming a stationary target, pain speared through my chest once again.

 

No time. Keep moving.

 

That’s when the first gunship still over me decided to join the fight again. Its door gunner opened up and sprayed the area with more small rounds, a few catching me as I sprinted perpendicular to the new Vertibird to throw off the pilot’s aim. 

 

There was no time to worry about the minigun though, I’m still on the clock against reinforcements, and I have another kilometer and a half to cover. 

 

Shooting out the pilot’s vision turned out to be a much better idea than I’d thought. If I hadn’t I’d be dealing with two chin guns right now instead of one and a minigun.

 

A few seconds later, the undamaged VTOL roared overhead and I turned south once again, sprinting through the ravaged suburb at full tilt. I felt my armored boots slam into the already crumbling asphalt hard enough to send cracks running through it, and I shot forward fast enough the gunners would have difficulty tracking me. 

 

Speed is one of a SPARTAN’s best weapons and best defenses. 

 

The obstacles in front of me, cars, rubble, the occasional collapsed building, I didn’t let them slow me down. If I couldn’t go around it, I vaulted it. I’d made it almost halfway to the edge of the city proper before the still active VTOL came back for a second pass.

 

This time to my back.

 

Asphalt and houses began exploding around me before one round caught me square in the back as I circled around a burned-out truck. The impact sent me scrambling for footing and did as much to my shields as the half dozen minigun rounds. 

 

By the time I’d resumed my sprint, another round caught me in the left hip, and this time I couldn’t stop myself from going down. 

 

My body twisted with the force of the impact and my momentum turned into an uncontrolled tumble. I hit the ground, hard, and continued bouncing and flipping, my surroundings a blur-

 

Until I crashed into a rusted hulk that had once been a car hard enough to cave in the front right quarter panel. The impact was hard enough to drive the car into the house it had been parked beside with a metallic screech.

 

The sound of the Vertibird roaring overhead pierced the haze that had fallen over the world, my entire body aching again. 

 

Keep going. Move or die.

 

Pushing my hands into the broken concrete driveway, I got to my hands and knees, then unsteadily to my feet. I was- I was still heading in the right direction, the taller buildings of the city looming ahead of me, maybe half a klick away.

 

I turned to find the damaged Vertibird bearing down on me. I’m in no shape to get into a shootout with that thing.

 

Half limping on my left leg, I made for the corner of the house and threw myself behind it just as the aircraft’s gun opened fire. I didn’t see what happened to the car, but I can imagine it's in pieces now. 

 

City.

 

Right.

 

Climbing unsteadily to my feet once more, I ran, or sort of ran, as fast as I could through the next row of houses. I don’t know where the other bird is, but I can’t afford to stick around and find out.

 

With the two (at least) aircraft now hunting me, I began weaving between houses, making myself as small a target as possible. It took a good 30 seconds for the world to stop spinning, but that didn’t help my arms, which were now both on fire, or my left leg. I wanted to berate myself for carelessness, but I could do that after I get away from the people that want to kill me.

 

It was another three minutes of sprinting down alleys, cutting across sidestreets, and barging through collapsed buildings, with a few unexpected Feral Ghouls along the way before I made it to the city. More than once, the Vertibirds found and strafed my position, but nothing serious, not like that second run. It wasn’t until I was a few hundred meters into the taller buildings, mostly apartments, that I heard more VTOLs arrive. Looks like my estimate was a little off, thankfully in the right direction.

 

Just because I would be harder to find now didn’t mean they’d give up though. The last time this happened, I think about three weeks ago now, they didn’t stop searching until nightfall. That’s because the first time they chased me, I had a few surprises ready for their advanced teams after dark.

 

That was still several hours away.

 

I wracked my still slightly rattled brain for the location of the nearest safe house. It was… close to the river, not too far away, maybe half a klick. This one’s near the bottom floor of a bombed-out office building if my mind is working correctly. Good cover, several traps, and plenty of routes for escape, including the river. 

 

No heavy weapons though.

 

It would have to do. I need to make it there before they land ground forces to start searching for me, provided they don’t have any in the area already.

 

My armored boots continued pounding on the asphalt as I made myself as scarce as possible: cutting through buildings, finding as many alleys shrouded in shadow as I could, and listening for any potential threats in the area. Twice more I came across Feral Ghouls which weren’t a problem since they don’t use guns. A few seconds of cracking skulls and shattering bones was enough to deal with them. Once, I had to hide and wait for a group of Supermutants who seemed to be confused about the multitude of pounding rotors and shooting to pass. Hopefully, they’d find the Brotherhood and slow them down a bit.

 

And hopefully, they’d find the Brotherhood so they would get torn to shreds.

 

10 agonizing minutes later, I found myself creeping into the small tower. I don’t know how tall it had been before bombs and a few hundred years of wind erosion had collapsed its upper floors into the sickly green water below, but now it’s five and a half stories. My ‘safe house’ was a large office on the second floor facing the river. Surrounded by other buildings that looked markedly similar, it was a decent enough spot to lay low.

 

The groan that forced itself through my teeth as I lowered myself into a sitting position once inside wasn’t good news. My arms were doing better, but my left leg was aching now. The pain started just above the knee and ran up to my hip flexor. It felt like I strained my quad. Bad. Well, the two explosions, slamming into the car, then sprinting across the Commonwealth strained it.

 

As much as I wanted to remain prepared, I needed food and water after the afternoon’s festivities. While I took care of that, my mind drifted back to what started that chase in the first place: what the hell am I going to do to make this work?

 

There’s no way I’ll be able to split time between every group here. If today has told me anything, it’s the Brotherhood has too many resources to throw at me for that to be a viable option. That’s to say nothing of the Institute, which will be even more dangerous considering they can teleport . Sanctuary will have to deal with increasing threats from the Brotherhood and eventually, the Gunners will find them. The Railroad is being hunted by the Institute, with Brotherhood infiltrators screwing with the splinter cell’s program, and then there’s the Raiders which are, apparently, interested in the Commonwealth now.

 

God damm it.

 

Finishing off the bottle of water, and the MRE mostly eaten, I slipped my helmet back on and checked my armor. It wasn’t any more damaged than it had been before this all started. The shields hadn’t gone down, so that’s at least some good news. My weapons were-

 

Well the MK18 was intact. All that was left of the HK-33 was the upper receiver, which had been mangled, probably by my impact with the car. That wouldn’t be any use.

 

After taking the time to double-check the small anti-personnel charges I’d wired through the building were primed and active, I settled back in the office and waited for night to fall.

 

“Too many variables”, I whispered. 

 

All of those problems didn’t take the deficiencies of each group into account either. I don’t know if Haylen will be successful pulling any of the Brotherhood soldiers away, Sanctuary, while better equipped than most, was still small and relatively inexperienced, the Railroad has the experience but is too small, and Li’s people are, for now, isolated. The supplies they’ll be delivering to the settlement will be incredibly useful, but that only gets them so far. What they need-

 

Oh… How did I not think of that earlier?

 

What they need is to fix those weaknesses. I don’t know about the potential Brotherhood defectors, but between the Railroad, Sanctuary, and Li’s people, they can fill in most of the holes each party has on its own. Between Sanctuary and the rest of their network, Preston said they have around 500 people. That isn’t a lot, but it’s a start. With the technology and know-how, the Railroad and Li’s splinter group brought to the table, that would fix a lot of problems.

 

We’d still need more people though and with the Brotherhood expanding to cover more ground how would we get that?

 

And that also involves the Railroad working with me. Yes, Deacon is already doing that, but I get the sense he’s an outlier. 

 

This can’t continue to be a hold-up. I screwed up, get over it. I’m trying to fix it. 

 

The images of Cass and Tommy’s faces flashed through my mind as Glory pulled them away. They were both so… resigned. There was no fight in either of them, I was just another person who was supposed to take care of them who had failed, who was gone.

 

It doesn’t have to stay like that. I can fix this. I’m taking Deacon back to the Railroad after he’s done with Haylen and Danse anyway. Apologizing won’t mean much, but it’s a start, right?

 

I nodded to myself. It’s a start.

 

X

 

As afternoon dragged on into evening, and then evening into night, I found myself pacing the second-floor office. Light filtering through the various holes in the ceiling and walls cast an orange glow over everything. Over the hours, I heard Vertibirds continue searching the city for me, but there was so much to search, and one person leaves such a small footprint, it was essentially hopeless. They knew that. 

 

The more I thought about finding some way to unite the different parties under one banner, the more it made sense. It reduces the number of variables and bolsters each group. It also means I don’t have to do as much work training Preston and his people, which is time I can spend in the field doing what makes me valuable.

 

It also gives me more options for getting to Julian.

 

Now though, I was torn. Do I head back to Sanctuary and talk this through with them, or do I stay out here and finish my recon? There were still several places I want to check: the Brotherhood warehouse Nate’s forces had hit a week ago, a few smaller settlements in the city the Brotherhood had been ‘working with’, and one, large, Supermutant group set up in a relatively intact tower in the middle of Boston, not too far away from Diamond City. 

 

Staying in the area longer though… That would mean risking being found by the Brotherhood again, while their forces are active. 

 

A mistake like that… It’s been a long time since I allowed myself to be distracted by my own thoughts during an operation. That’s how you end up dead .

 

No, the Brotherhood forces would be on high alert and, if I’m being honest, getting this started is far more important. Yes, I’ll be out of the loop on what’s happening in the city, but that won’t matter if I manage to establish a force that can genuinely support. It will be smaller than the forces Maxson and Shaun can field, but it will have the clandestine expertise of the Railroad behind it.

 

And it will have me. 

 

The thought of building my own fighting force from pieces made me smile. It was exciting in an entirely new way. 

 

There’s already the perfect group established for it too: The Minutemen. I don’t know much about the group, but it seems as though they were an attempt at forming a local militia/police force. I may be speaking out of turn, considering my experience, but that seems like a phenomenal way to galvanize people. Yes, if it works, the new forces coming in will be green as grass, but not all of them need to be fighters. Hell, most of them don’t need to be fighters. We just need enough people to handle the essential support roles, like supplies and logistics, to give anyone who wants to and can fight the ability to. I don’t need them to be an elite force, I just need them to be good enough to give me more breathing room. I can take care of the rest.

 

Eliminating people like Maxson… That’s one of the things I enjoy most about what I do. The only ones I think I’ll like more are the Supermutants and Raiders.

 

The Institute though, that one’s going to be more complicated. Not only because the target will be harder but… I still have no clue what to think about the situation. Nate, I don’t trust he’s doing anything besides helping Shaun. Yes, there’s plenty of evidence to suggest he isn’t, but I thought that before he tried to kill me. 

 

One step at a time. I need to get back to Sanctuary and talk this through with Deacon and Preston. 

 

It didn’t seem like that partnership would be a hard sell. They’re already helping them out with supplies…

 

Which, according to Deacon, was Nate’s doing…

 

What’s that aggravating bastard up to with this?

 

Not knowing makes me nervous. The ex-soldier is a lot better at playing underhanded games than I am. 

 

I’ll have to figure that out as information comes, but so long as the equipment stays clean, that’s fine by me.

 

Looking out through the crumbling walls toward the river, I couldn’t help but admire the colors reflecting off of the water from the pink and orange sky above. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t think there was anything wrong with the shimmering, writing body as the image of the setting sun danced across its surface. There are certainly times I’ve gotten to enjoy views like this in the past, but none of them have been on Earth, even if it is a destroyed version of it. 

 

It was almost time to leave. The Brotherhood would be starting their pullback soon.

 

My arms and left leg were still stiff, but they weren’t burning anymore. Hopefully, I’ll have the night to recover. They aren’t the worst strains I’ve had, or fought on, but I don’t have a medical suite to go back to if I tear something. That type of injury would heal eventually, but the amount of time I’d be compromised was unacceptable. 

 

As I descended toward the tower’s ground floor, I was careful to avoid my traps as well as the rubble and debris scattered around the crumbling building. The last thing I need now is to make noise at the risk of a scouting party being nearby. 

 

A few moments later, I was standing just inside the shadow cast by the tower’s entrance. The street beyond was clear, and the pounding of Vertibird rotors was distant. That didn’t necessarily mean-

 

Gunfire erupted to my south, further into the city. This wasn’t the usual distant fight. The reports couldn’t have been more than a half-klick away. Judging by the sounds, it was conventional and laser weapons fire. That meant the Brotherhood was involved. Who else would be attacking them? The Supermutants? It’s possible, they had small bands meandering around the city.

 

Get out of the city. I’ve had an interesting enough day, I don’t need to make it worse.

 

That was probably the right decision, but it felt like this trip, and the disaster it turned into, was worthless at this point. All I’ve gotten out of it is a few more injuries. Maybe the gunfight is nothing, or maybe I can get something valuable out of it.

 

This is a bad idea…

 

I ignored the warnings and alarms going off in the back of my head as I slipped out into the street and started south toward the battle. From the sounds of it, the exchange was smaller, which means it’s probably one of the Brotherhood patrols out searching for me. Whoever they were engaged with didn’t have much firepower either.

 

It didn’t take long for the sun to hit the western horizon, already hidden behind the corpse of a city around me, and turn the streets into a melody of deep shadows cast by buildings punctuated by strips of light. The contrast made moving easier, so long as I stuck to the darker areas. 

 

The journey didn’t take long. Whatever the ongoing battle was, it was happening in an intersection surrounded by relatively intact, squat buildings and stores. I took cover in a small bodega, or what used to be one, 50 meters from the intersection. I would have liked a better vantage point but I’m not about to risk being spotted again, not after earlier today. 

 

My position didn’t matter much though. The fighting was practically over. As I watched, the Brotherhood soldiers put down the last few remaining combatants-

 

Who were Gunners .

 

What the hell? Neither party had any love lost for each other, but short of the Institute and Brotherhood (and Raiders soon enough), the Gunners are the largest fighting force in the area. They tried to stay away from Brotherhood-controlled areas and vice versa. On more than one occasion, I’d seen their forces part without firing a shot. Why would they get in a fight like this in the middle of the city?

 

“Clear!” a woman shouted, the voice coming through the filtered speakers of a T60 helmet.

 

“Clear!” came several replies. 

 

“Secure the perimeter”, the first voice ordered. “Exfil is in five.”

 

So a Vertibird was coming in to pick them up. That meant they really didn’t want to be in the city after dark.

 

The thought almost put a smile on my face. While the Supermutants were part of that, I couldn’t help but find satisfaction my efforts to disrupt their patrols and supply routes worried them enough to pull out at night.

 

It was hard to get a count on exactly how many were in the intersection with the shifting light. The best count I could get was 21, 15 of them in power armor. That was at least two squads, maybe more if they took casualties. I’d be lying if I said the temptation wasn’t there, but if they had air support coming in, I don’t want to risk getting tracked again.

 

“Carver!”

 

I watched as an armored figure stood off toward the southeast corner of the intersection. Another Brotherhood member, this one out of power armor, ran up and saluted.

 

Newbie. Thanks for telling me who your CO is dumbass.

 

“Put your damn hand down Initiate!”

 

There was no way of making out facial expressions at this distance, and they were faced away from me, but I did watch the Initiate tremble as their arm snapped to their side.

 

“Apologies Knight-Captain”, an equally shaky voice said. 

 

A brief silence followed, where I could almost imagine the holes the commanding officer’s eyes were drilling into the Initiate.

 

“Please”, the armored woman said in an appropriately gravelly and still loud voice any DI would have been proud of, “explain to me why you decided to take Initiates Barkley and Heins to scout this area.”

 

“B- because I knew this was one of the sectors we still haven’t searched, and we- we were supposed to extract soon.”

 

Another short pause. Whoever the CO is, it seems like she was used to dealing with new trainees.

 

“So then tell me”, she said voice still slow, like she was explaining something to a small child, “what would you have done if you encountered the target.”

 

“Uh- excuse me si- ma’am?” 

 

I almost winced in sympathy. I’d made that mistake once with Katrina, and only once. 

 

Even though I couldn’t see her face, I still felt the glare boring into the kid I was starting to feel bad for. He was only making things worse for himself.

 

“Did you intend to alert us to his former position with your corpses, Initiate?”

 

“N- no. I- uh- we-”

 

“Because that’s all you would have done”, she barked, interrupting his response. “But no, instead you have to do something worse . You get captured by Gunners and I have to track you down and bail your goddamn ass out of the fire. Two people got hit because of your recklessness, Carver. Jones is in critical condition, and the only reason he’s alive is those Gunners are just as dogshit at shooting as you are.”

 

The pounding of rotors approached from the north and, a few seconds later, dust and debris began swirling as a pair of Vertibirds descended into the intersection.

 

With the added noise, there was no way I was making out the rest of the conversation, but I didn’t need to. Even if it was a seemingly innocuous encounter, this told me a lot about their current conditions. They’re deploying Initiates on missions to search for me. That means their primary forces are being dedicated to offensive operations, which I still need more intel on, and defending supply lines. If they think those are more critical than hunting me, they’re up to something. 

 

Then there are the Gunners. It’s no surprise, on the surface, they’d take any opportunity they got to capture Brotherhood forces. They’re no better than Raiders, and if they could get away with it, they’d take them for any information they could get.

 

But they’ve also been working with the Brotherhood, in some cases. I’ve seen them, more than a few times, sell (supposed) captured Synths, as well as trade for weapons and supplies from them. Why would they risk destroying that relationship for three Initiates? It isn’t like greenies would know enough about Brotherhood operations to hurt them, and I seriously doubt Maxson would allow for any bargaining to retrieve them. 

 

That means it isn’t just the Brotherhood that’s up to something, the Gunners are too.

 

Great. Two major players in the area making moves and I have no idea what. Should I put off returning to Sanctuary to chase this down? No… that could take too long, and getting everyone operating under one roof is too important to postpone. Besides, if I can get the Railroad to put more assets in the field, they may be able to help me track down exactly what’s going on. 

 

As much as I hate waiting, here I am again. Direct action has been pounded into me since I was five. This type of subterfuge isn’t my style.

 

Like I said though, my normal way of doing things has only gotten me into more trouble over the past few months…

 

Two minutes later, the Vertibirds were climbing back into the air, taking their cargo, including an extremely screwed Initiate, to the northeast. So this was a deployment from the airport… That’s also an interesting piece of information. It not only confirms they’re deploying fresh trainees, they’re deploying combatants straight out of their version of basic. Tracking me down has been an extremely high-risk mission for them. To use that type of ‘fill in’ soldier…

 

Uncertainty clawed at my gut. Why would they dedicate their more experienced people elsewhere? The only explanation is they didn’t consider finding me a high priority at the moment. I’d be insulted if I wasn’t intrigued by the possibilities.

 

I waited until the beat of the rotors had faded far into the distance until the sun had dropped all the way below the horizon, and darkness wrapped itself so thoroughly around the city, it was almost impossible to see clearly without activating my NVS. Once 45 minutes ticked off my HUD’s clock, I slipped out of the small shop and toward the former battleground. 

 

There were about two dozen Gunners scattered around the intersection. Eight of them were in the center, while the rest were in various spots around it and just outside of the crumbling buildings on the south side. 

 

The Brotherhood caught them in an ambush. 

 

Searching the bodies, I didn’t find anything besides the oversized, blocky radios they used on one of them. There was nothing to suggest them being here was anything more than chance. But that was one hell of a coincidence. They couldn’t have known I was in the area… Unless they followed the sounds of the Brotherhood Vertibirds chasing me. If the Gunners were looking for an opportunity to scavenge something, or someone, hearing that kind of fight would be like ringing the dinner bell. If that’s the case, and they wanted to capitalize on the Brotherhood’s aggression, that means they’re breaking off their pseudo ceasefire. Or they’re trying to go behind their backs.

 

Both possibilities are interesting, but not any new information. 

 

After going through each of the bodies, I collected an extra high-powered bolt action rifle and a few hundred rounds of assorted ammunition. The bolt action wasn’t as powerful as my MK18, but at least I could conserve ammo on my return trip. If it was necessary. And these supplies are more for Sanctuary than myself. Even if Li’s people are going to start supplying us with high-quality guns, there’s no such thing as having too many in a situation like this.

 

Several of the Gunners were carrying basic medical supplies: disinfectant, bandages, and a few Stimpaks. Five minutes after I began my search, I slipped away from the skirmish site, a new satchel full of supplies slung over my shoulder. 

 

Now comes the fun part: making my way back across the Commonwealth with an extra gun and two bags full of supplies. Without being caught again. With two bad arms and a bad leg.

 

I’ve had worse. Stop complaining and get moving.

 

Without knowing exactly how the Brotherhood would react to losing me again, I headed northwest, away from the bulk of their forces. It meant I’d have to travel through a lot more city, and risk running into Supermutants or any of the still numerous Raider gangs in the area, but neither of them has air support or squad tactics.

 

The crumbling buildings and rubble, as usual, made moving through the city quietly a pain in the ass, but it worked both ways. Since I wasn’t looking for another fight, especially since that would probably attract attention. So when I heard boots crunching over broken glass a street away, I backtracked and stole down an alley to avoid whoever was coming my way. 

 

The same thing happened a few minutes later, but this time accompanied by voices. They weren’t the nasally, barely coherent warbling I usually heard from Supermutants, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t still shoot me.

 

Over the next hour and a half, I avoided a dozen encounters, slipping through buildings, down alleys, and at one point, scaling a tower. My arms didn’t appreciate that, but I’d probably appreciate getting blown up again even less. Even with the slow, plodding pace, the last few days had me a little less anxious to move quickly. I don’t need to get involved in anything serious again, not until my current injuries healed.

 

Eventually, I made it out of the city, past the suburbs and into the relatively sparse wilderness beyond. 

 

While the recon mission hadn’t provided me with the information I intended, at the very least, I have a few leads to chase down.

 

And I know how I’m going to approach Preston. We can’t keep operating as separate forces. If this is going to work, we need as many people working under one banner as we can get.

 

As I made my way through the forest, I was careful to stick to good visual cover, even if that meant detouring. It may be overkill, but there’s no point in taking unnecessary risks. I already did that once today and it got me shot. A lot.

 

In a way, I found it amusing I’d be the one to suggest this. The person who was practically forced to integrate into SPARTAN OPS. Now I’m going to attempt to convince Preston to bring the Minutemen back and pull the Railroad and Li’s people under its umbrella. I don’t have much confidence in Haylen’s idea that she can strip people away from the Brotherhood, but at the very least, I need her to get Julian back.

 

The night passed peacefully as I stalked across the Commonwealth. By the time I made it back to Sanctuary, it was almost 0100.

 

For the first time, I felt genuine relief as I climbed onto the road leading toward the small settlement. My entire body was aching, aside from my left leg which was on fire . It was almost shaking with strain, and it will be stiff tomorrow. 

 

Really looking forward to that. 

 

While approaching the front gate, I studied the walls, looking for telltale signs of the watch positions hidden in the fortification. They’d done a fantastic job concealing them. There were five facing the front of the settlement and, even though I know where each of them are, I only picked out one, given away by the barrel of a goddamn rifle sticking through it. 

 

That’s a stop I’m going to make before getting some shuteye.

 

When the cobbled-together steel door swung open, Brenda was standing behind it with another two guards. I didn’t know either of their names.

 

After ushering me through and securing the door, the woman turned to me, eyebrow raised. “Preston said you wouldn’t be back until morning.”

 

I shrugged. “Plans changed. Who’s posted at the western firing slot?”

 

Brenda’s eyes narrowed. “Phillips. Why?”

 

“He’s trying to get someone killed.” 

 

Without waiting for a reply, I marched around the trio of settlers toward the guard post. They followed along behind me, I couldn’t tell if they were afraid or curious.

 

Inside, the guard, Phillips, was sitting on a stool, rifle propped up on the edge of the firing slot.

 

He looked bored.

 

The asshole looked bored .

 

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed. 

 

Inattentive guards are how bases get invaded and people get shot. I’ve taken advantage of my fair share of bad watchmen, too many to let this shit slide. Especially since it’s a matter of when someone comes calling, not if, and we currently have four HVTs in the area.

 

“Wh-” the heavily muscled man shot to his feet. “What are you talking about?”

 

I turned to Brenda. “You have someone to take his post?”

 

She looked bewildered but nodded. “Yeah… we can-”

 

“Wait”, Phillips barked, “I’m not-”

 

“Keep your voice down”, I snapped, rounding on him. “You aren’t on watch to sleep with your eyes open. I’m not gonna have you get someone killed.”

 

“I’m here trying to protect people.”

 

“By giving your position away and not paying attention?” To say I wasn’t in the mood to argue with this guy was an understatement. I don’t trust he’s going to suddenly correct bad habits, especially given his response. “Take it up with Preston in the morning.”

 

Even in the darkness, I watched as his face turned cherry red. “Like hell, you aren’t taking one of this place’s best off of night watch.”

 

There’s a lot more work than I thought if this is one of Sanctuary's best. The more this guy talked, the more convinced I was he didn’t belong anywhere near a defense effort. 

 

I snorted. “One of the best.” To say it had been a long day and I needed some sleep would be an understatement. “Brenda, have someone relieve him.”

 

As I began to turn away, he grabbed my left shoulder. “I’m not-”

 

The pain was irritating, but what tripped my temper was that this asshole had the balls to not only argue he wasn’t in the wrong but think he was in any position to demand anything. I’m not their commanding officer, but Preston wanted my help defending Sanctuary. They all know that, including this guy. They think because they’ve run off a few Raiders they’re ready for a war . Maybe my demonstration the other night wasn’t pointed enough.

 

Even so, the last thing I need is to put this guy in whatever their version of a hospital is. Pulling away from him, I continued back out of the house.

 

“Clay”, I heard Brenda mutter from behind me, “stay here, I’ll figure this out.”

 

A pair of footsteps followed me into the night.

 

“Damon, what was that about?” the woman asked as she drew beside me.

 

“Your man is a liability. Liabilities get people killed.”

 

“Yes but-”

 

I stopped. “If I’m going to help, you need to follow orders. If there’s an issue, bring it to Preston in the morning. For now, I need sleep.”

 

Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to respond but didn’t. Instead, she rolled her eyes and waved at the other man who had followed me. They both marched back toward the front gate, leaving me to deposit the scavenged supplies in the armory. The house was empty other than the weapons… seemed like a good enough place to get a few hours in.

 

Throbbing leg and aching arms aside, I felt pretty good all things considered. My recon didn’t go anything like I intended, but I still gathered important info and new targets to scout.

 

And hopefully a path forward. 

 

X

 

“From the sounds of it, you need to work on your people skills”, Preston muttered as he stopped in front of me. I was walking toward the bridge, intending to check on our local Brotherhood contingent when he found me. “Not that it’s news to anyone.”

 

“Your guard?”

 

The former Minuteman’s brow furrowed. “ Your guard too if you mean to help us.”

 

If I mean to help you? I wouldn’t still be here if I didn’t. “I do.”

 

“Then you need to start thinking like that. This is a community, and if you’re here to help, that includes you.”

 

I blinked. The bluntness is nice, but me a part of their community? Maybe the people here who have known me since the beginning can stomach that, but it’s hard to miss the glances people still occasionally send my way. And thinking of myself as part of their community? How’s that supposed to work? I’m not a farmer or an engineer. I’m a fighter and, to do that, I’m going to spend most of my time in the Commonwealth, not here.

 

“Whatever”, the dark-skinned man said through a deep exhale. “You didn’t leave a good taste in anyone’s mouth last night.”

 

So? Pissing people off isn’t as bad as someone getting dead. I cocked my head at him. “Phillips wasn’t doing his job.”

 

“How so?”

 

“He had his rifle propped on the firing slot, exposing the barrel to anyone who happened to look, and was about as attentive as a dead person.”

 

Preston frowned. “Yeah… that isn’t a surprise.”

 

This is something that’s been happening? And they’ve let it continue? That isn’t going to cut it.

 

“Anyone who can’t do the job right isn’t going to do it”, I said. “Not if you want to survive this.”

 

What I said wasn’t anything special, and the former Minuteman seemed to get that.

 

Preston nodded. “I gotcha just…” he offered a small smile. “Can you let me handle it next time? It would make my life a whole lot easier.”

 

Would I let him handle it? “As long as it isn’t an immediate issue.”

 

“Good enough.”

 

“We need to talk about something else”, I said as he began to leave.

 

“Oh?”

 

I nodded. “You need to reform the Minutemen.”

 

He hesitated, staring at me as though I’d just hit him. 

 

“I need to restart the Minutemen? Why?” Preston’s voice was plodding, and the tension in his shoulders and neck were stark and severe, even beneath his jacket. 

 

“Why does that make you nervous?”

 

“It- I just…” he trailed off, eyes falling to the ground between his feet. “The Minutemen failed, Damon. I’m, well I was the last one left. We lost the Castle, we lost at Quincy, and now… Who’s supposed to trust the Minutemen can keep them safe after what happened to us?”

 

The Castle? I have no clue what that is or was, but it doesn’t matter. “How were the Minutemen destroyed?”

 

That must have been the wrong question because, even with his face cast downwards, I could see the pain twist his mouth into a grimace.

 

“Infighting after our last General, Joe Becker, died in ‘82.” He looked back up at me, a trace of defiance in his eyes. “But we still fought to keep the Commonwealth safe. Good men and women still responded to calls for help, even if the higher-ups didn’t do anything for us. It was- it was the Quincy Massacre that really ended it.” He smiled. It was more sickly than anything. “Funny, bet if I’d met you two weeks before I did none of that woulda happened.”

 

When I found Preston and his people a few months ago, they’d been on the run from Raiders. They’d said something about Quincy, but no one ever explained what happened. Judging from his demeanor, the former Minuteman probably didn’t want to talk about it.

 

“Do you know if there are any other former Minutemen around?”

 

The shrug that drifted across his shoulders was half-assed. “Yeah, a few. I know there are at least four in the settlements we’re working with, but I doubt they’re interested in starting it back up.” He squinted at me. “You still haven’t told me why you want to do this all of a sudden.”

 

“There are too many variables for this to work. If we’re going to work with the Railroad and the Institute, it needs to be under one chain of command. The Railroad is clandestine and can’t take lead, Dr. Li’s group even more. It has to be… us .”

 

The former Minuteman smiled. Apparently he liked my use of the word ‘us’. “That makes sense. Like I said, it’s infighting that broke up the Minutemen the first time around. Plus, if we can get more cooperation from the Railroad, they’d be a big help. And Dr. Li’s group?”

 

Oh… right, he doesn’t know who Li is. “She’s a former Brotherhood scientist working with the Institute and is leading the splinter cell smuggling Synths.”

 

“Got it.” Preston closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they weren’t determined, but they were at least focused. “Okay. Okay… I don’t know. I get why you’re asking it, but I can’t be the Minuteman general.” He shook his head. “I was the only one to escape Quincy and most of the people I brought with me died. If you hadn’t shown up…” 

 

This is something he’s going to have to get used to since he wants to be involved in this war. “You’re the only option. I’m not doing it. You’re already de facto leader of Sanctuary and the network you’ve begun establishing.” 

 

“You aren’t doing-” he blinked. “Does that mean you’re gonna help?”

 

“Yes”, I said, nodding. I have to if it’s going to work.

 

Preston paused again, studying me as though he’d never seen me before. “Oh… okay. I guess that makes things a bit better.” He frowned. “Can I have a minute to think about it?”

 

The answer seemed pretty obvious to me, but Preston isn’t me. Besides, this was a hard experience for him, I can understand how that might make the decision difficult. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

The former Minuteman smiled. “Thanks.”

 

Sensing the conversation was over, I nodded and began toward the bridge again. I’d intended to help re-establish the Minutemen since it was my idea, and they don’t currently have the manpower or support to succeed without it. He was asking for more than that though; he wants me to consider myself part of their community. It was an interesting idea…

 

But is it necessary? I don’t know.

 

While I hadn’t asked, I got the feeling Deacon and Sturges would still be in the Vault with Haylen and Danse. It was no surprise when I got to the makeshift holding cell and the four of them were there, talking.

 

“Good morning!” the Railroad agent greeted me. “I was told you wouldn’t be back yet.”

 

“Things changed.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow from behind his ever-present sunglasses. “Such as?”

 

“It’s a long story.” Talking about another fight with the Brotherhood now wasn’t the best idea. 

 

“Huh. Alright then.” Deacon turned back to the former Brotherhood members. “I think we’ve agreed on the plan.”

 

It wasn’t until his eyes settled on Haylen I realized the Scribe was sitting on the edge of her bed, hands clasped on her knees so tight her knuckles were white. The way her stare drilled into me, and how hard her jaw was set, I didn’t have to be a genius to guess what that meant.

 

“You want me to torture you.”

 

The nod I got in return was as stiff as the rest of the small woman. 

 

Hurting someone to the point they want it to stop, more than anything, is easy. The key to torture isn’t physical though, it’s mental. That’s why I usually like taking more than one prisoner; what’s worse than someone torturing you? Watching someone else get tortured while knowing that’s waiting for you. I’m certainly no expert, but I’m no stranger to the practice. 

 

This isn’t that. I’m not trying to get any information from Haylen; this is for show. How do I do that? How do I know where to press? How do I know when to stop? Should I be the one to do it? Is-

 

“Thanks”, Haylen said, pulling me from my thoughts. Her voice was tight too. She was a lot more nervous about this than she had been a few days ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if Deacon walked her through what it might look like.

 

“What?”

 

“For having to think about it.” She smiled or at least tried to.

 

Did she think I wouldn’t? 

 

Well, she did see what I did to the Raiders. And I’m sure the Brotherhood has plenty of stories circulating about me. “I… haven’t done anything like this before.”

 

Deacon shrugged. “It’s good to know you don’t go around hurting people for no reason.”

 

Did they expect I would? I cocked my head at the Railroad agent.

 

“Sorry.” He smiled apologetically. “Probably not the right time to make that sort of joke. The plan is to make it look like you tortured her, give the injuries a few days to begin healing, and have a small group of settlers ‘sneak’ her out of Sanctuary.” Deacon met Sturges’ gaze.

 

“We already got a few volunteers”, the Synth said. “All that’s left is the hard part.”

 

Deacon nodded. “Yeah… she’s got a cover story, you picked her up near Diamond City and ended up in a small town a little ways southwest of here. Our volunteers found her and, when she told them who she was, brought her back to Cambridge.” 

 

For the first time since I walked into the room, Danse shifted, eyes burning. “I don’t agree with this. I’m going to be there. You won’t take a single step past what’s necessary.”

 

That’s something we can agree on.

 

While I’m sure whoever volunteered for this is capable of getting from here to Cambridge and back, I’ve seen the way they move. “I’ll escort them to Cambridge.”

 

“Doesn’t that kinda defeat the purpose?” Sturges asked.

 

Deacon shook his head. “Plenty of ways to do that from a distance. I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” He turned to me. “I was told you have a radio.” I nodded. “Haylen’s memorized your frequency. She’ll contact you when she has something.”

 

Maybe I’m not one to talk, but this idea seems… excessive. Yes, it’s the best way to convince the Brotherhood she didn’t willingly cooperate, but is there something I’m missing? 

 

No… Maxson doesn’t trust anything. This needs to be convincing.

 

It does, but I need space to think too. “Anything else?”

 

“Nope.” The Railroad agent shook his head again. “Just need to know how you wanna do this.”

 

I shrugged. “Give me some time.”

 

“No problem.”

 

As I left the makeshift cell and walked back to the lift, interrogation techniques began filtering through my head. There are countless possibilities, and I’ve used many myself, but whatever happens, it can’t be permanent. Yes, the objective is to get Haylen back into the Brotherhood, but she’s still volunteering for this. 

 

Is she really doing this to convince people to leave the Brotherhood? I’m under no delusions about her main goal. Yes, I’m sure she wants to help get Julian away from them, but she wouldn’t do this to pay back that debt, would she?

 

The platform began carrying me back to the surface, yellowish light from the morning sun filtering through the yawning mouth.

 

Whatever I have to do to complete the mission, right?

 

Instead of heading back down to Sanctuary, I paced into the woods to the north, found a quiet thicket with plenty of visual cover, and sat on a rock.

 

Whatever I have to do to complete the mission. That’s what I’ve always done.

 

Except once.

 

The image of Nate as I slammed him down onto the table, his arm fracturing under my grasp flashed through my mind. I clenched my left hand into a fist as I felt the bones break. 

 

At that moment, I decided to turn my back on ‘my mission’ of getting back to the UNSC. No one had ordered me to do it, but that’s my duty, right? To the UNSC? To SPARTAN OPS? To Fourier?

 

Yes, my duty is to them, but I chose to throw that away because it was more important I protect Cass and Tommy. Now though… this is the same question, isn’t it? My objective is to save Julian but to do that I have to torture Haylen. If the situation wasn’t so uncomfortable, I’d almost find it amusing. I’ve killed so many people without a second thought, but I’m struggling with this decision? I have my mission, and I have a clear path forward for that mission. What’s the problem?

 

If only I didn’t already know the answer to that question.

 

There’s more to consider than Julian though. If Haylen can , with Danse’s help, peel off an appreciable portion of the Brotherhood’s forces, that would weaken them dramatically. That means less risk for the soon-to-be Minutemen and everyone who may end up falling under that umbrella. Haylen was terrified, it was easy enough to see, the tension in her slender frame so severe it looked like she might injure herself. Her eyes said she was determined though.

 

Will that determination last once the torture starts? 

 

At the end of the day, it’s my decision whether I do this or not. The Scribe is willing to go through with it, but am I willing to do something like that to someone I’ve… come to trust?

 

If I trust her, maybe I should trust her to make this decision.

 

What if I go too far though? What if I do something that can’t be fixed? What if I kill her?

 

I didn’t miss the irony of that thought. Why am I so concerned about killing her when killing has never been, and still isn’t, an issue for me?

 

Again, that answer’s easy: because I don’t intend to kill her. 

 

There’s a major difference between those two things. There are a lot of people I’ve intended to kill, but it isn’t often I harm someone without the intent to kill them. It isn’t often I harm someone when I don’t want to.

 

Isn’t that good enough? I don’t want to hurt her. That’s what keeps me from going too far. If this is the best option, take it and do it right.

 

Do it right…

 

Taking a deep breath, I stood. 

 

This isn’t something I like, but that’s okay. Maybe it’s a good thing this makes me uncomfortable. Before I decide though, I need to ask Haylen something.

 

My feet carried me back to the Vault and a few minutes later, I was standing back in the room. Sturges had left, leaving Deacon and the two guards with Haylen and Danse.

 

“That was fast”, the Railroad agent said. “Took us the better part of yesterday to come to terms with this.”

 

While that information may be useful in gauging how reluctant they all are to do this, it isn’t useful, and not why I’m back down here.

 

“Haylen”, I said, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the large metal box. Her eyes locked onto me and she nodded. “Why are you doing this?”

 

The Scribe’s back straightened. Suddenly, she looked a lot more confident. “Because it’s the best way to save the people I care about. Like I told you before, there are a lot of good people in the Brotherhood who don’t deserve to die because they followed Maxson. I followed him.” She glanced at Danse. “It’s my responsibility to at least try to help them.” The small woman paused for a moment, and this time when she smiled, it reached her eyes. “And you helped me, so I’m going to keep up my end of the bargain. Remember, I was there when you found Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian. I heard their story too. I stayed with them while you and Nate were in the Glowing Sea. They’re good kids and, just like my friends who are full members of the Brotherhood, Julian deserves better.”

 

Talking about her reason for doing this, Haylen was far more confident than she had been a few moments ago. She may not be comfortable, but she’s at peace with that decision.

 

Alright then. I know what I need to do.  

 

“Okay, I’m in.”

Chapter 48: Cause and Effect

My eyes snapped open as I heard someone entering the house. Whoever it was wasn’t being quiet about it.

 

“Damon?” They called a moment later. It was Alex.

 

“In here”, I said, climbing to my feet. 

 

The short, well-built woman appeared in the doorway to my impromptu sleeping quarters beside the armory. It was still early, why was she up? And looking for me?

 

“Are you busy today?”

 

Am I busy? I cocked my head at her. There isn’t much to do around here, and I can't leave to figure out whatever the hell is going on between the Gunners and Brotherhood. There’s no telling how long that would take, and I need to be here tomorrow. “No.”

 

Alex smiled. “Great!” She stepped into the room. “I’m taking a few people over to the Finches. Mind coming along as an escort?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Some folks to help with farming.” She frowned. “Andrew too.”

 

Andrew? I cocked my head. “For?”

 

“He said he worked in hydroponics in the Institute for a while before he was moved to the ‘Advanced Research Division’”, she arched an eyebrow. “Not that I know what that means, but he says he has experience that may help.”

 

That would be a help. “How secure is the farm?”

 

“They’re still working on it, but better than most.”

 

Dragging me along as an escort? “Are you expecting trouble?”

 

She shook her head. “No, but I thought it would be good to bring you along. They’ve done a lot with the place, but they might need a few pointers. If you’re concerned about how secure it is, seeing it for yourself and telling them how they can get better would be smart. Besides”, there was a glint in her eyes that worried me, “if you’re gonna be part of the community here, you should make more of an effort to get to know people. Outside of attacking them, that is.”

 

She wants to drag me along to the Finches even though she isn’t expecting trouble to get to know people better. 

 

Do I have anything better to do?

 

No… Why do I need to ‘get to know’ these people though? We don’t need to be friends, they just need to be effective fighters.

 

… So do I have anything better to do? Figuring out what defenses the farm needs would probably be a good idea. They’re a major source of food for the network. Defending them is important.

 

Fine.

 

“When are you leaving?”

 

The smile on her face broadened. “When they’re done eating. Probably about 10 minutes.”

 

“What size is the group?”

 

“Including you, me, and MacCready, it’ll be eight.”

 

MacCready huh? He’ll be thrilled for me to come along.

 

“I’ll be waiting by the front gate.”

 

Alex nodded. “Great.”

 

With that, she turned and strode from the house turned armory.

 

Escorting people to the Finches… That’s only an hour or two walk. It doesn’t surprise me they’re resettling people. Sanctuary isn’t large, and it seems like the 80ish people they have here is about as many as they should keep. If they really do have a network with around 500 people in it, and some have the ability to support more settlers, that’s a good idea. Not only does it spread out their manpower, but it prevents one location from becoming overburdened.

 

Taking Andrew to a different location isn’t a bad idea either. If the Institute finds me here, they’ll probably assume the Synth is too. There isn’t a better defense than not being attacked.

 

When I left the house, there were a half dozen people sitting in the common house’s carport. Alex was standing, talking with MacCready. The former gun for hire was, in turn, watching me as I made my way toward the front of the settlement. 

 

Is she doing this to try making him and I work together? 

 

The few guards patrolling the area stopped and nodded as I passed. They were getting better, watching areas that we identified as ‘at risk’ locations along their perimeter. 

 

Who knows, in a few years, they may be ready for this damn war.

 

I stopped as I reached the gate.

 

It still confuses me why Preston is so determined to get involved in this fight. I understand minimizing damage, and fighting to defend themselves, but involving more people… it seems like that’s going to end up accomplishing the opposite of what he wants. With how little support they have, and how disjointed this effort is going to be, I don’t see how their joining is a net positive for them.

 

I’ll have to find a way to make it a net positive.

 

Yeah… that’s easier said than done. 

 

Has that ever stopped me before?

 

I’ve never done anything like this before.

 

First times and all that.

 

The sky was still brightening, the sun creeping ever closer to cresting the horizon to the east. It was something I’ve learned to appreciate since coming here: with no light pollution and no intact major urban areas around, the unobstructed view of the sky was remarkable.

 

Maybe it’s also the idea of seeing it from Earth, humanity’s homeworld, that made it all the more novel. 

 

“You ready to go, soldier boy?” Alex’s voice called from behind me. I turned to see the seven of them heading toward me, each of the settlers cradling a rifle of some sort. Dogmeat was trotting along beside them. Apparently, he’s coming too.

 

I nodded.  

 

“Great. Would you like to lead the way?”

 

“Yes”, I replied, nodding again.

 

She gestured toward the door. “After you then big guy.” The woman seemed way too excited about this.

 

Andrew met my gaze. The Synth looked uncomfortable in his new, more settler-appropriate clothing instead of the clean apparel he’s used to. He seemed even more anxious cradling his bolt action rifle. 

 

But he had said he wanted to help, this is probably the best way to do that. 

 

As we began the journey, the settlers followed along about 10 meters behind me. Since there weren’t any Brotherhood patrols in this area, I stuck to the crumbling, broken roads to make the journey a little easier on them. Waltzing through the forest was a pain in the ass when you didn’t have to do it.

 

That being said, there was one thing I should have asked before we left.

 

Drifting back to the rest of the group, I drew even with Alex.

 

“Why don’t you think there will be any danger?”

 

She smiled up at me. “Because we have people walk this route twice a week. There were some Ferals we had to deal with the first few times, and we’ll see some wild animals every once in a while but, for the most part, it’s safe.”

 

That may have been a risky use of resources, but it wasn’t a bad one. If they wanted to keep constant routes open between their settlements, establishing regular patrols is a good way to do it. The problem with that is they don’t have the manpower to do it constantly and the distance between the two was large enough doing so on foot was impractical.

 

Either way, it was a good idea.

 

“Now can I ask you something?” I shrugged. “What do you really think our chances are?”

 

Broad question. “For surviving? Or for fighting the Brotherhood?”

 

“Both.”

 

Of course it’s both…

 

“Surviving, fine, provided we deal with the Raiders moving into the area. Fighting the Brotherhood, not good with the limited manpower and experience you have.”

 

She nodded. “And what about you? You don’t think you can help?”

 

Can I help? Yes, I can help, but I intended to do this with as little outside help as possible. That wasn’t just because I’m used to working alone; it keeps them out of harm’s way and, since I don’t have to concern myself with protecting anyone, I can focus on dismantling the Brotherhood, then the Institute. Now that they’re involved and, eventually, one or both groups are going to find out I’m working with them, they’re going to become targets. The question is when that will happen, and whether they’ll be ready for it.

 

“I can, but there are always risks when operating in large groups.”

 

“Yeah… I can see that.” After a moment of walking in silence, she shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. That’s what you’re here for.”

 

Uh-huh.

 

“You really think he’s that good?” MacCready asked from behind us. The question didn’t sound like a challenge or accusation, if anything, it seemed like he was pleading.

 

“Of course”, Alex replied, glancing over her shoulder. “You heard about how we met up in Concord.” She looked back up at me. “And you killed Kellogg too.”

 

The former mercenary grunted. “Met that bastard a few times. Not sad he’s in the ground.”

 

He wasn’t so much in the ground as he was rotting in a server room, but I understood the sentiment. 

 

Retrieving Nora’s body from the Vault, imagining what had happened there hadn’t been an enjoyable experience. But then there was the look on his face as I put a laser bolt through the mercenary’s forehead. It wasn’t relief, but it was something close.

 

“We’re talking about the Brotherhood though. This isn’t Raiders, it isn’t even Kellog.”

 

I could explain to him what happened in Diamond City, that, even though they captured Julian, they paid a heavy price for it during the ambush. I could describe how I’ve severely limited their operational capacity areas around the city. I could tell him about the various missions I’ve been on to eliminate Insurrectionist cells back in my universe. 

 

Gaining his trust isn’t a necessity though, I just need his cooperation.

 

“Eh, I think you’re worrying too much”, Alex said, slapping my back. “They haven’t managed to track him down yet.”

 

That isn’t strictly true. “I got chased into the city by Vertibirds the other day.”

 

She snorted. “How’d you do that?”

 

“Was lazy, didn’t pay attention.”

 

“You got chased by Vertibirds ?” Andrew asked from behind us.

 

“Yes”, I nodded. “Not something I make a habit of.”

 

There was a small neighborhood on the road ahead of us. As far as I know, there aren’t any Raiders or Supermutants in the area. What about some of this place’s ridiculous mutated wildlife? Or Feral Ghouls?

 

“Give me a minute”, I said, waving them to the side of the road.

 

“That neighborhood is clean”, MacCready replied. “We’re thinking about turning it into another settlement.”

 

It being clear the last time they went through doesn’t mean it’s still empty. 

 

Alex grunted. “Don’t worry about us, soldier boy, we’ve taken this route a hundred times by now.” She looked back at the others. “Keep your heads on a swivel, people.”

 

Great… “Give me some space then.”

 

Sure enough, as we passed through the collection of a half dozen crumbling houses, they were uninhabited. At least, they were uninhabited by anything that wanted to kill us. There were a few large insects crawling around, but they minded their own business.

 

And a bullet would probably be overkill from something like that.

 

“Told you it would be fine.”

 

“Is Preston still looking for people to stay here?” another one of the settlers asked. He was young, maybe a few years older than me, and with his short brown hair and smallish face, could have passed for MacCready’s brother if he wasn’t half a head taller. 

 

The former mercenary nodded. “Yep. It would probably be a good idea to get some people put up here and set up something similar to Sanctuary.”

 

Considering the neighborhood was largely surrounded by trees, it wasn’t as defensible as Sanctuary, but there are still things they can do to fix that. If they’re going to make this a common path, checkpoints are a must.

 

“Well when he decides he wants to set up shop, let me know.”

 

“You’ll be the first person I tell.”

 

The other man snorted. “You don’t need to lie about it.”

 

“I was just trying to make you feel better”, MacCready said, chuckling.

 

As we left the small collection of houses behind, Alex turned to me. “What do you think?”

 

“About establishing an outpost here?”

 

She frowned. “Turning it into a settlement .”

 

What’s the difference? I shrugged. “It needs some work, but not a bad idea.”

 

“Well that’s a vote of confidence if I’ve ever seen one…”

 

“Just following his advice”, I said, motioning to the man MacCready had been talking to.

 

The shorter woman chuckled. “You hear that Brandon, you’ve already made an impression on our resident stick in the mud.” I cocked my head at her. “Sorry, I couldn’t think of any way to work ‘stick up your ass’ into that sentence. I’ll try harder next time.”

 

“Right.”

 

The march continued in relative silence as the sun climbed over the eastern horizon. The long, deep shadows cast by the trees around us made watching for threats difficult. I had the group stick to the middle of the street which would give me time to react if anything tried to ambush us. 

 

Most of the walk was peaceful, outside of a group of Feral Ghouls that had been hiding in the forest an hour into the journey. There were only three of them, so I dealt with the threat by hand. No need to alert anyone to our presence here with gunfire.

 

Andrew and two of the settlers stared at one of the Ghouls whose head had been smashed open with an elbow strike, its brain scattered across the pockmarked road.

 

“That was kinda nasty”, Alex said as we continued past the fight.

 

I shrugged. “It's dead."

 

She snorted. “Yes.” The woman frowned. “Reminds me of what you did to that Raider when we first met.”

 

One of the Raiders I killed in Concord? When I found her, Alex was in a storefront being tortured by two of them. That’s right… I killed one with my knife, and the other I’d struck in the base of his neck. 

 

“It’s a targeted strike, meant to break the target’s spine.”

 

“I’d say it did a lot more than that…” another woman, I think her name is Heidi, mumbled.

 

“Look”, Brandon said as we circumvented a large hole blown into the road, “the less we talk about exploding heads, the better.”

 

“What”, the other man in the group, an older, shorter settler teased, “you get queasy?” I wasn’t looking back at them, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Who wouldn’t?”

 

“Oh boy”, Alex said, “you haven’t seen everything the Commonwealth has to offer then, Brandon.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you up to speed.”

 

The young man groaned. “Why do I feel like you aren’t being sarcastic?”

 

“Because she isn’t”, I replied.

 

I’ve barely been here three months and I’ve seen my share of violence. Granted, I’m probably not the best measuring stick for that metric.

 

“I wouldn’t be too worried about it”, Alex continued. “As long as you don’t hang out with Damon too much, you won’t see a whole lot.”

 

That probably isn’t true, but I’ll let him believe that for now.

 

After two hours of walking, the field the Finch farm was in drew into sight. As soon as it was, Dogmeat bolted forward. It wasn’t the same as the last time I’d been here though. The formerly vacant houses in the area had people buzzing around them, the size of the crop field was easily double what it had been before, and there were a handful of rudimentary watch towers around the land. 

 

“Mack, can you take them to the Roths’ house?” Alex said, motioning to the four settlers. “Me and the soldier boy are gonna go say hi to the Finches.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll come find you after we get them settled in.”

 

“Great!” She turned to the others. “Have fun working the fields!”

 

Andrew met my gaze again, he still looked unsure. That was to be expected. The Synth was in an alien place with people he barely knows. It’s admirable he wants to help them considering the circumstances.

 

He nodded and turned to follow MacCready.

 

There was some grumbling as Alex led me toward the small shack on the north end of the fields.

 

“They’ll be glad to see you, after Abigail saw you in Sanctuary last, she’s been asking where you’ve been.”

 

She has? “Did something else happen?”

 

The woman laughed. “No, just because someone’s looking for you doesn’t mean they need you to kill something, stupid.”

 

That’s usually how that goes.

 

“She seems to like you, for some reason, and they still feel like they need to pay you back for saving Jake and wiping out the Forged.”

 

Pay me back… Unless they know some way to get to the Institute or eliminate the Brotherhood I don’t think there’s anything they have that I need.

 

“They’re helping Sanctuary.” 

 

“Damn right they are. If it weren’t for them, our crops wouldn’t be doing anywhere near as well as they are.” Alex sighed. “Something you gotta figure out though is folks around here don’t like owing people… No that’s not right, they don’t like leaving those people unpaid.”

 

“ And ”, she said before I could respond, “just because you don’t want anything don’t mean they feel like they don’t owe you anything. You saved their son , Damon. That isn't something someone just moves on from. That’s not even talking about the Forged. Those bastards…” Alex trailed off, her face darkening with fury. “Got Charlie to open up a bit about what they did to him and his people.” She looked back up at me. “I hope you made them suffer.”

 

As much as I understand the sentiment, my job isn’t to make things suffer, it’s to make things dead (most of the time). 

 

“It’ll be hard for them to do that again.”

 

She nodded. “Yeah… it will. Still mad about it though.”

 

Almost as if on cue, I watched two people, Abigail and Jake, exit the shack as we approached.

 

“Well it’s about damn time you came back around these parts”, the matriarch beamed. “Took Alex dragging you here for you to come visit us again.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He wasn’t doing anything useful around town”, Alex said, “so I thought I’d get him out of everyone else’s hair and bring him your way.”

 

“That’s thoughtful of ya.” With the small smile on her face, I couldn’t tell if she meant that she was happy I was here or thought the people in Sanctuary needed a break from me.

 

“Hey Damon”, Jake said, his voice subdued compared to his mother’s. “It’s been a while.” I nodded. “I know y’all are here to get them settled, but do ya mind if I pick your brain about a few things?”

 

“Such as?” I asked.

 

“Well, I’m sure you saw the shacks we put up for people to watch from, but last time Mac was here, he didn’t think they’d be enough.”

 

“What attack are you concerned with repelling?”

 

Jake looked at his mother.

 

“Yeah”, she said, nodding, “long as he don’t mind.” Abigail turned to me. “He’s been talkin' about walking the fields with you, going over some specifics. Do you have the time?”

 

As far as I was aware, there isn’t anything I’m needed for back at Sanctuary.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Great.” The dark-skinned woman waved Alex inside. “C’mon in, just got finished brewin’ some coffee and we got fresh corn picked.”

 

Alex smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

 

The two of them left Jake with me.

 

“So… I know I said it last time”, the young man said as he stepped off the porch, “but I’ll never be able to repay what you did for me and my folks.” He glanced to the north, toward where the Forged used to have a base. “Not to mention all the people those assholes might have attacked if they were still around.”

 

We started walking toward the north end of the fields where the clearing ended and began fading into a forest.

 

No response came to mind. I don’t have anything I need from them. They’re helping supply Sanctuary with food. Other than that… 

 

“Don’t worry about paying me back. You’re doing enough.”

 

Jake shot a smile my way. “Yeah, yeah. I know you said that last time too.” He fell silent for a moment, eyes turning back to the field. Even I could tell there was something he wanted to say though.

 

“You mind if I ask you about that? About you sayin’ ‘a lot of people don’t have a family to go back to’?”

 

Of course… It seems like everyone wants to know about that at this point. The question is, should I tell him? 

 

Why not? What’s the harm?

 

One question leads to more.

 

So? I don’t have to answer every question.

 

“Mine died- were killed when I was young.”

 

The smaller man nodded as if he expected as much. “Who did it?” As the question left his mouth, his head twisted and he looked up at me again, wide-eyed. “Sorry, that just kinda came out.”

 

I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”

 

“Ah”, he said, the alarm slipping from his face. “I guess that explains why you yelled at me when we were walkin’ back here.”

 

Yelled? I didn’t yell, did I?

 

“At least you did it.”

 

Jake nodded, a smile slipping across his face. “I did, and I’m damn glad I did. Me and my Pa still don’t see eye to eye on everything- well”, he chuckled, “most things, but I think both of us are still too afraid of Ma to get into another fight. We’re gettin’ along though. It’s been nice. Oh!” The man’s eyes went wide again. “And Nick’s still around too! He’s stayin’ with the Vances. We should stop by before headin’ back.”

 

Nick… the other guy I’d saved from the Forged. Right. I nodded.

 

We stopped as we neared the edge of the field. “So this is where we were thinkin’ our land should end.”

 

The spot we were standing in was about 10 meters from the first trees. Their nearest crops were still a good 150 meters to the south though.

 

“Are you planning to expand your crops?”

 

“No”, Jake replied, shaking his head. “Not in this direction. We got plenty of room between the fields as it is.”

 

I turned to look back at the crops. “Then you should give yourself more room.” I paced out another 50 meters. “Set up a fence of some sort here to mark the edge of your land. Doesn’t have to be anything major for now.”

 

Stopping beside me, Jake looked around the farm. “Okay… we got plenty of wood we can use. Can I ask why?”

 

“Because you’re going to set traps behind it”, I pointed toward their shack. “You have to be careful who gets caught in them. That means having sightlines where your watch can see an approach. They can redirect non-combatants.”

 

Jake nodded. “That makes sense. Won’t look good for us if someone gets killed by something they ain’t supposed to.” He looked around the area. “You’re thinkin’ we set up a path for folks to follow?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The young man nodded again. “We can do that. We’ll have to scrounge up some traps, but I think that’s doable. I’ll round up some people tomorrow and we’ll get to work making a fence.”

 

“You need more watch posts too, and better-fortified ones. What you have now is too obvious and too vulnerable. Your people will be isolated if someone attacks.” Considering this is farmland, trenches aren’t an option… “Snipers posted in the houses can help along with more shacks.”

 

“Yeah, we were planning on building more of those too. We’re gonna pick up some scrap from the old Forged factory. Been meanin’ to scavenge some supplies from there too; they had plenty of guns, ammo, and things that go boom…” Jack scanned the field around us. “You think some mines would be a good idea?”

 

Mines… aren’t a bad tool for static defense, but they’re risky. Modern combat left them behind a few centuries ago. They lead to collateral damage, mostly civilian

 

“You’ll need to map exactly where they are if you do. Once this is over, you dig them up. Immediately.”

 

“That makes sense, don’t want people walking over them by accident.” He scratched the back of his head. “Okay, so give ourselves some open area to shoot anyone we don’t want in and meet anyone we do. Set up a fence around the fields to make the edge of our land and put traps behind it to discourage anyone who manages to make it that far. More spots for people to be on watch from, and make sure they can take a beating.”

 

Close. “Leave paths through your perimeter for safe passage.”

 

“Right, right.” He nodded. “Anything else?”

 

I looked from the nearest house, the Finches, to the tree line. Setting up any sort of lighting would be almost impossible, and it would probably be a larger risk than benefit. That means they need NVS. Who the hell-

 

Li.

 

“Make sure you have good shots in your sniper posts. I’ll see if I can get you all some night optics.”

 

Jake frowned. “Night optics?”

 

“Night Vision Systems. Help you see in the dark.”

 

The smaller man’s eyes grew wide. “I’ve heard about stuff like that but where are you gonna get it from? I doubt there’s any just layin around the Commonwealth.”

 

“The Institute.”

 

Somehow, his eyes grew even wider. “What?”

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

“Seems like you got a lot of those.”

 

I smiled. “Maybe.”

 

“Alright.” He glanced at his family’s shack. “Anything else? We should probably head over to the Vances’ to say hey and head back. Alex doesn’t usually like stayin’ too long.”

 

After motioning for him to lead the way I asked, “how many people do you have here?”

 

“Including the 4 y’all brought us, that makes about 60 between 7 houses. We got new people showing up all the time though. I know another family is coming next week.”

 

That’s not enough, not even close. Especially with the Raiders heading this way. “You need more people.”

 

“We know.” He nodded. “There are some smaller farms in the area that have been struggling. We’re workin’ with ‘em to move. I think another four or five families are just about there. That’ll get us over a hundred.”

 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

 

“Good.”

 

We continued heading south toward a small collection of houses in silence. At least for a minute or so. It seems as though Jake has the same, infuriating problem with quiet as Nate does.

 

“Ya know, things have been goin’ pretty damn good over the last month or so, considering the Brotherhood and all.” He grunted. “Or maybe that’s why things have been goin’ so good. A lot of the smaller farms are gettin’ leaned on to give ‘em food. Heck, even the larger farms have been in a bit of trouble.” The young man looked around the fields. “I think the only reason we’ve been spared that trouble is those walking tin cans haven’t bothered comin’ this far west.” He glanced at me. “No offense to tin cans though.”

 

“I’ve been called worse.”

 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” He asked.

 

No… that’s a conversation I’m not sure I want to have. “Depends on who you ask. Most of them aren’t flattering.” I tried to convey my disinterest, but the smaller man didn’t seem to pick up on that.

 

“You didn’t say what those names were.”

 

I nodded. “That’s correct.”

 

“Oh… gotcha.” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry. Somethin’s been on my mind for a minute though: why does your armor look so different from theirs? I know there are different types of power armor, but what you’re wearing looks like it’s in a different universe from the stuff they have.”

 

A laugh almost forced its way out of my mouth. That’s because it is . 

 

When I didn’t respond, he grunted. “That’s another long story, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is there anything you will tell me?”

 

“You’ll probably find out eventually”, I replied. It wasn’t that the information was private, at least not what he was asking, but the answers to his questions would lead to more questions, and right now… I’m not sure I feel like digging into that hole.

 

It’s a pretty goddamn deep hole.

 

“Fine”, he grumbled as we reached one of the houses. It was a little larger than the Finches shack, surrounded by plants with a narrow path leading to the front porch. “C’mon, I think Nick’s inside. He hurt his arm yesterday so he’s takin’ it easy for now.”

 

The weathered wooden steps creaked and groaned as I climbed them but, thankfully, didn’t give way beneath me. When Jake knocked, a muffled “come in” echoed through the door.

 

Pushing it open, the eldest Finch son led me into a small entryway where sunlight streamed in from windows on the far wall. Past the cramped space was a larger room with a few well-worn couches arranged around a fireplace set in the wall to the left. A bald well-tanned man was sitting on one of them, left arm wrapped in some sort of bandage, propped up on the side of the couch.

 

As he registered me, his eyes went wide and he almost fell over himself standing from the seat. “Wha-” his jaw worked up and down as he stared like he couldn’t find whatever words he wanted to say. 

 

“You doin’ alright Nick?” Jake asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.

 

Nick swallowed. “Yeah… I just- I wasn’t really expecting to see, uh, Damon here.”

 

The man looked like he was in much better shape than when I found him. His lean, almost atrophied muscles were now relatively normal, and his face was no longer drawn and gaunt. 

 

“He was out givin’ me some pointers on settin’ up defenses. Thought we’d come by and say hello.”

 

He nodded. “Well… thanks for that. And, you know, thanks for saving me from the Forged. I never got a chance to say anything after we got here.”

 

“Don’t worry about it”, I replied, nodding to him in return.

 

“We’ll probably be seein’ more of him since he’s helpin’ out Sanctuary and all”, Jake said. “Next time I’ll see if I can teach him how to farm.”

 

“Yeah…” Nick mused, eyes drifting over me. “Lemme know how that goes.”

 

The younger man laughed. “We’ll get outta your hair. Tomorrow’s probably gonna be rough.”

 

“Looking forward to it”, Nick groaned.

 

As we left the small house, Jake started laughing. “You know, that’s a good thought: seein’ you out in the fields planting and weeding.” He paused to laugh again. “Yeah, I’ll have to tell ma that one. She’ll get a good chuckle out of it.”

 

Farming… That sounded like about as much fun as suffering through another session with one of ONI’s shrinks.

 

“I’ll pass.”

 

Jake shrugged. “Hey, gotta get food somehow.”

 

“Which is why I’m glad you’re all good at it.”

 

He glanced at me. “So, what, you can go out and do all the fun stuff?”

 

Not sure I’d consider everything I do ‘fun’. Some of it is though. I nodded.

 

“Figures.”

 

“I’m sure some people enjoy farming.”

 

The young man nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s satisfying work but- well I guess part of the reason I joined the Forged is still there: I wanna get out, see more of the Commonwealth. I’ve spent my entire life on or around the far. Maybe a couple trips to other settlements, but it gets boring around here.”

 

That’s a sentiment I could understand. “Let the fighting finish first.”

 

“Are you sure we’re gonna win?”

 

Am I sure? No. There’s nothing certain in war. You gather as much information as you can, put together your best strategies, and execute. If the other side has more resources, better cards to play, or more effective logistics and you don’t account for that, you lose. There’s never any way to tell for sure.

 

But Jake probably doesn’t need to hear that. 

 

“I’m going to do everything I can. We’ve got a few options we’re working on.”

 

He grunted. “That didn’t sound very confident.”

 

I shrugged. “Like I said: we’re still working on them.”

 

We continued in silence for a few moments, the Finches shack drawing closer until Jake nodded. 

 

“If you need any help, let us know.” He looked up at me. “This is our home and we’ll fight to keep it that way.”

 

That’s probably going to happen.

 

“Good.”

 

There was something different in his eyes, in his expression. When I pulled him out of the Forged factory, he was uncertain, scared. When I saw him in Sanctuary, he was still nervous. Now though, if not confident, he looked determined. That was good, he’d need that. If he’s in charge of their security here, they’re all going to.

 

“You two finished?” A voice called from the Finches’ shack. “Alex looks like she’s about ready to explode. I think y’all need to get moving.”

 

Abigail was standing on the porch, MacCready and the woman in question behind her. Alex, for her part, did look agitated. She wants to get back to Sanctuary. Is there a reason for that, or does she just not like staying here? 

 

“Hey”, Jake said quietly, stopping a dozen meters from the house. “Would you mind coming back in a week or two? We should have the fences and new posts built by then.”

 

“It might be longer”, I replied, nodding.

 

He smiled. “Cool, I appreciate it.”

 

After a few moments of saying their goodbyes we were heading west out of the farm, and up the gently sloping hill toward Sanctuary.

 

“Jake’s a good kid”, Alex said as she trudged beside me. “You did good rescuing him from the Forged.”

 

“Yeah”, I mused. Hard to take credit for that when the only reason I went there was to blow off steam. I did bring him home though. “As long as they get more people and set up some defenses, they should be alright. Unless the Brotherhood comes after them in force.”

 

The shorter woman grimaced. “Or the Raiders.”

 

We needed to figure out a way to deal with that. A few thousand of those bastards, and well organized, that’s going to make things a lot worse, especially with the Supermutants still in the area. 

 

“That complicates things.”

 

This time, most of the journey passed in silence. Dogmeat stayed behind which, apparently, wasn’t unusual. It seemed like both of my companions were lost deep in thought. That was fine by me, it made focusing on my surroundings easier.

 

And if the other day taught me anything, it’s that I can’t afford to let my mind wander. Not that it isn’t a lesson I’ve learned before.

 

The sun had reached its zenith and was on the way toward the western horizon by the time we arrived back at Sanctuary. As soon as we were through the gate, Alex headed for the commons. She’d eaten a few things on the way back, but apparently she was still hungry. 

 

“Damon”, MacCready said, tapping me on the shoulder. When I turned to him, the former mercenary was frowning as though he’d just eaten something he didn’t like. “I haven’t been the most welcoming since I met you, I know, and I’m still not sure I trust you but…” he trailed off, glancing back toward the gate. “Alex and Abigail told me some of the stuff you did, how you helped Nate find his kid, and got Jake back to the Finches. I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

 

When he didn’t offer anything else I motioned for him to continue. “Which would be?”

 

The man’s eyes drilled into my faceplate and I could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. 

 

Spit it out.

 

As if he heard my thoughts, MacCready exhaled explosively. “To hell with it. My kid’s sick, and I left him back in the Capital Wasteland with some good friends to come out here and find a cure. I- I heard the Institute has advanced medicine and I wanted to see if they could help but… well I’ve been stuck here, but I can’t go back. I can’t go back to Duncan without something .”

 

By the end, his voice was almost desperate. 

 

The Institute would be difficult, especially given the circumstances.

 

Curie though…

 

That’s one I’ll have to get in touch with the Railroad for. I have no clue where she might be. They may not either, but the last place I saw her was in one of their safe houses.

 

“There may be someone with the Railroad who can help. When I take Deacon back, I’ll ask.”

 

He squinted at me. “Someone who might be able to help? Are you just gonna ask on a whim?”

 

That good faith didn’t last long. “No, there’s someone specific who was working on medicines.”

 

“Oh…” MacCready exhaled again and took a step back. “Okay.” He cleared his throat, looking around. Was he making sure no one had been in earshot? He really didn’t want to ask me for help.

 

“Well…” he said, glancing up at me one more time. “Thanks.”

 

With that, he turned and marched toward the settlement’s main street. 

 

That had been… strange. It’s something I can worry about when we head to the Railroad though. The next few days are going to be interesting, and I need to start getting ready for that. 

 

Whatever happens in the coming weeks, it begins there, and I’ll be damned if I start an operation off wrong.

Chapter 49: Torture

This is something I need to do. It’s our best option and no one else here has the same experience I do torturing people.

 

Well, Danse might , but he wasn’t going to hurt Haylen. That’s something I couldn’t blame the former Paladin for.

 

That means I have to hurt Haylen. For real. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it right.

 

Do it right. Torture her without my normal motivation: answers. I’m not looking for answers, but I’m making it look like I did. 

 

My job isn’t and has never been, to hurt things. If I do, it’s for a purpose. Have I taken… liberties during combat at times? Yes, but never anything like this. 

 

But I do know how to hurt things. I may not be an expert interrogator, but I’ve spent enough time doing it and enough time fighting… I know the human body well.

 

So it isn’t a question of ability, it’s a question of willingness. 

 

Willingness? Am I willing to do what it takes to get the job done? I’ve always been willing to do that, even if the ‘job’ has changed. Even if I’m the one giving myself objectives now. 

 

Haylen’s eyes flashed through my mind. They were determined. Scared, but determined. 

 

I can’t ask ‘what alternatives do I have?’ anymore. I’ve asked that a dozen times and haven’t come up with anything better. This is my best chance.

 

Take it.

 

How do I do it right? How do I make it believable? I don’t have any questions for her to answer. Without that point of reference, how do I know what would be enough? How do I know what type of torture to use?

 

If I want to make it convincing, make it obvious. The most spectacular torture methods, at least for an observer, are blunt force trauma. I can do that. Bruises, broken bones, lacerations, and ligament damage. It’s dangerous though. People… break easily. Hit Haylen too hard or in the wrong spot, and it could cause irreparable damage.

 

Or kill her.

 

She’s my target, not Haylen. 

 

Right. My target. 

 

However long it takes, however much damage I need to do, she has to survive and recover. She has to reintegrate with the Brotherhood’s forces. That’s what matters.

 

The Scribe will be reluctant. She’s already said she wasn’t going to give me any information I might be able to use against the Brotherhood. While that doesn’t mean much, her people won’t know that. 

 

This isn’t about questions. This is about looking like I asked questions. 

 

What questions do I want- need her to answer? Danse. Julian. Any intel she has about the Brotherhood.

 

Those first two are direct, the third wasn’t. That means the torture will be longer, drawn out. More damage.

 

Voices drifted toward me from Sanctuary, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked down over the edge of the hill from my perch, sitting atop one of the shipping containers beside the Vault’s entrance. It was late, a few lights were still on around the settlement, but most had already gone to bed. To the south of town, I spotted one of the patrols walking a perimeter. They were on their way back from the small gas station across the river. I’d need to talk to them about maintaining better patrol routes. They don’t have the protection of power armor, nor the numbers to deter an adventurous attacker.

 

Focus. Interrogation.

 

Hay- The Scribe has already told me she won’t cooperate. If I’m going to do this with blunt force trauma, that means I have to go slow. Hard, heavy blows won’t get me anything besides a dead mark. Make my subject feel each hit, make each hit hurt, but let them know it will only continue to get worse the longer they hold out. Bruises on top of bruises. Bones cracked, then broken. It’s going to last a while, and it’s going to be painful.

 

If the goal is to make sure the Brotherhood knows I beat the information out of her, that’s how I do it.

 

It was times like this I wish I could let my guard down for a moment. More than anything, I wanted to take my helmet off and suck in a deep breath of the cool, crisp night air. 

 

But I’m not going to get shot in the head for it.

 

I tilted my head back, gazing up at the dark, speck-filled sky above. The sight really was incredible. There was so little light pollution, even down at sea level where atmospheric interference distorts the image of the distant stars, it was so clear it felt like I was on a ship. Two hundred years for what’s left of the planet’s vegetation to clean the atmosphere does wonders, I guess.

 

Haylen couldn’t appreciate this. Not now. No, she was down in the Vault, going on 30 hours with no water. 

 

My mark.

 

Clear night skies… they’ve always been calming. This one especially. The knowledge I’m on Earth, looking up at it from humanity’s homeworld was humbling. This is what human beings have seen for thousands of years when they looked up. It’s only been a few centuries since we joined those stars. 

 

No, I have all night to put myself in that mindset. For now, at least, she can be Haylen. 

 

Maybe, if I ever make it back, I can request shore leave on Earth. Take a few days, find a nice secluded spot, maybe backpack up to a mountain peak and do nothing but stare into the night sky. My night sky. Away from everything. Away from the UNSC. Away from ONI. Away from all the bullshit. Away from my ‘responsibilities’.

 

Away from being a SPARTAN. 

 

While things aren’t as fast-paced as they’d been when I was with ONI, I’m still constantly moving. It gives me almost no time to sit and think. For the last 15 years, that’s been a good thing. Now though…

 

The me I was when I first arrived in Concord would have wiped out the Railroad and moved on. I would have done it because that’s what I would have needed to do to get back to the UNSC. 

 

Things have changed. I’ve changed. That decision, to protect Cass and Tommy, to not attack the Railroad, wasn’t the one that accomplished the mission. It was contrary to everything I’ve been. But, like I said- or thought- when Deacon was talking to Danse, it was the right call. 

 

That isn’t something I ever thought I’d choose, to listen to the quiet voice of my conscience over mission-critical actions. Like I said to Nate what seems like a lifetime ago, I never intended to survive this long. I wanted revenge on the Covenant bastards who destroyed everything I knew. All I ever wanted was to take my pain out on everything else. Since I have survived this long, much to the dismay of countless Innies and Remnants, and revenge isn’t my goal anymore, taking some time to figure things out might not be a bad idea. I won’t, and never intend to, stop being a SPARTAN, but maybe I’ve ended up a different SPARTAN. 

 

A small smile spread across my face. Fourier, Amanda, and Liam would be so proud of me. I could almost hear Liam: “he’s finally decided to be a real person.” Even if it was an imagined slight, I’ll make sure to give that asshole a little extra during our next sparring match.

 

If I get the chance. 

 

I let out a deep breath and pulled my eyes away from the vista stretching horizon to horizon above me. 

 

For now, and for the foreseeable future, that isn’t going to happen. I’m SPARTAN Damon G-052 and, whether at some point, later on, I get the opportunity to re-evaluate what that means, I do enjoy doing what I’m doing. I have… opportunities other soldiers don’t and if I’ve learned anything over the last few months, it’s that they mean nothing if I don’t do anything with them.

 

Tomorrow though, it may be one of those opportunities, but that will be a challenge. 

 

My mark isn’t one I’d like to have.

 

But that’s what it takes. 

 

What I’m about to do is to get the job done. It’s what I’ve always done. The difference now is this is something I want. I don’t know if that makes this any easier, but at least I know why I’m doing it.

 

Alright. I jumped down off my perch, armored boots kicking up puffs as they hit the dry dirt. Time to get ready.

 

X

 

Susan and Blake were waiting at the Vault’s entrance after giving the Brotherhood Scribe a dose of MedX and another drug I haven’t seen before. The room was empty now except for myself, Danse, and my target. Danse was pacing behind me and even though I couldn’t see him, I felt how tense the former Paladin was. He isn’t the only one.

 

The Scribe was hanging in front of me, suspended by her wrists from a rope I’d looped over one of the pipes above. Her face was level with mine, and she was staring into my visor, fear and determination in her eyes. The small woman was doing her best to keep her expression neutral, but sweat covered her mostly bare body.

 

That probably wasn’t healthy considering she hadn’t had anything to drink for two days.

 

“It’s a common ‘interrogation’ technique”, I said. “Exposure and dehydration are one of the oldest forms of torture I know of.”

 

Make it look good. Start from the basics.

 

“You can’t allow them to get used to the pain.” That was Blaine. “Start small, make sure they know it’s gonna get worse the longer they wait.”  

 

One thing Katrina and Mendez had never insisted on training me on was torture. Yes, they had someone with experience in enhanced interrogation give me a few pointers, but most of what I know is learning in the field.

 

That doesn’t mean I’m not familiar with ONI’s practices. I’ve been privy to plenty of their ‘interviews’.

 

“The worst thing you can do is allow yourself to empathize. You’re there to get information however you can. There will be pleading, crying, and screaming. None of that matters, the only thing you’re interested in is their answers to your questions.”

 

The only thing I’m interested in is answers. This time though, the answers aren’t to my questions, they’re the lengths I’ll go to trying to convince Maxson I had tortured one of his people.

 

It was time to get started.

 

I marched forward, watching the Scribe tense. Good. That meant it would be at least a little harder to break something. My fist lashed out toward her torso.

 

Not too hard, no permanent damage, she has to know the longer she waits, the worse it gets.

 

The titanium gauntlet crashed into my mark’s ribcage and I felt her bones flex dangerously under the force of the blow, but nothing broke.

 

As she swung backward on the rope, the Scribe let out a pained shout. 

 

Nothing broken yet. Take things slow.

 

Next was another blow to her solar plexus. The punch sent her diaphragm into convulsions, knocking the wind out of her. The groan that followed was strangled.

 

Give her a minute to recover, the pain will be muted until she has her breath back.

 

After 30 seconds of heaving, the Brotherhood member’s breathing calmed. Another punch and she was swinging on the rope again. This time, she held whatever exclamation she might have in, eyes squeezed shut, face screwed up in pain.

 

That’s good, she’s feeling it.

 

Grabbing her forearm, just beneath the rope, I squeezed. It wasn’t hard enough to break the bones, but they did flex and this time the Scribe couldn’t stop herself. Another scream pierced the otherwise silent air.

 

Screams are good. It means they know what’s happening.

 

When I released her arm, it was red and already beginning to swell. The woman dangled limply from the ropes, panting. 

 

Is it far enough? Would I buy it?

 

Bruises were already forming across her torso, and her arm would join soon.

 

But no, it looks like someone hit her a few times, not tortured her.

 

Nothing permanent. 

 

Nothing permanent, but make it obvious. 

 

Haylen- my mark lifted her head again and stared at me, mouth open as she gasped for breath. The pain in her eyes was obvious, but so was the determination. 

 

My hand lashed out and I caught her across the jaw with an open-palmed strike. The Brotherhood Scribe yelped as her head snapped sideways. It wasn’t hard enough to break anything; hard to perform an interrogation of a subject who can’t talk.

 

Before she could come to a stop I slammed a fist into her left side.

 

This time I felt a rib snap.

 

She let loose an ear-piercing scream. It grated in my head and I felt my entire body tighten.

 

She knew it would get worse the longer it went.

 

“Damon!”, Danse shouted from behind me. He grabbed my arm.

 

He grabbed my arm.

 

“That’s enou-“

 

Turning to the paladin, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved Danse away. The former Paladin tumbled onto a bed.

 

I took another deep breath, forcing myself back into-

 

“It’s fine”, a croak came from the dangling woman. “I need to do this.”

 

Tears were streaming down Haylen’s face, making tracks through the grime and sweat. 

 

My mark stared at me as I stalked back toward her. Fear had joined the pain in her eyes, but the set of her now bruised and swollen jaw said, if anything, she was even more determined than she had been before.

 

“I need to do this.”

 

Another blow to her right side and she yelped. Another large bruise over the already forming one. A strike to the left side of her head, a shout of pain. The next few minutes dragged into hours as I tortured my target. Even though I never hit her anywhere near as hard as I could, I felt each strike reverberate up my arms. Each time she’d look at me there was more pain in her eyes, but the determination never left. It was as firm as granite. It didn’t waver as the bruises mounted, as another one of her ribs snapped.

 

Even through her screams.

 

By then her body was more bruises than anything else, building on top of one another across her torso. It certainly looked like someone beat her, like she held out for as long as she could. Would it be enough to convince them though? Would it be enough to convince Maxson ?

 

Make it look like she talked.  

 

I pulled my knife from its sheath.

 

“STOP!”

 

The small, battered woman's eyes widened as I pushed it toward her throat. The blade pressed itself against her neck. It cut a shallow line in the skin over her carotid artery and blood spilled down the edge of the knife-

 

That's enough.

 

Pulling the knife away, I let my hand fall back to my side. 

 

Haylen was in bad shape. Most of her skin was a mixture of bright red, blue, and black. There were a half dozen lacerations across her torso and a few more on her swollen, bloodied face. 

 

She must have realized it was over because, as I watched, her eyes fluttered in the beginning stages of unconsciousness.

 

Down. I reached up to cut the rope binding her hands. The Scribe fell into my left arm and I gently lowered her small frame to the bed behind her.

 

“Haylen!” Danse exclaimed as he shoved past me. His voice was half anger and half worry. The former Paladin knelt over his subordinate, shooting me a glare that could have blasted through a ship’s bulkhead. But there was something else beneath the anger too, some kind of desperation I hadn’t seen from the Synth before.

 

This- I need to give him a minute.

 

Turning on my heels, I marched out of the large room and into the hall. Adrenaline was surging through my veins, energy that hadn’t come close to being spent. Most of the time, my interrogations are preceded and/or followed by a fight. There was none here though. The only thing I have now is a pissed-off soldier, a heavily injured Scribe, and a lot of energy.

 

Restless energy with no outlet.

 

But I couldn’t tell if that energy was from the adrenaline or the fact that I was pissed . 

 

Why? I did my job. Haylen agreed to this. This is to get her back into the Brotherhood. This is far from the first time I’ve hurt someone, badly. But it’s the first time I've done it like this, to someone I know, to do it with no intention of getting information. 

 

To someone who trusted me.

 

I stalked back to the Vault’s entrance. Susan and Blake were there. Both physicians were standing just outside of the door, staring at me as I walked through.

 

“Are you finished?” Susan asked. Despite the anticipation in every tense muscle in her body, her voice was calm.

 

“Yes.” My voice sounded like it came from someone else like I was watching the interaction take place.

 

The two nodded to each other and made for the door. Blake stopped beside me. “Are you… not coming?”

 

No . I needed a few minutes. I don’t know if I shook my head or said something to that effect, but the man nodded before following his partner into the Vault.

 

My feet began carrying me around the entrance, pacing across the platform.

 

Why am I so upset? Didn’t I do the right thing? Even if it was someone I know who I hurt? 

 

Isn’t it the right thing? If it is, why doesn’t it feel the same as it did to find Danse, to get Vic and Newton out of the Raider camp? Why doesn’t it feel the same as when I sided with the Railroad over the Institute? I’d hurt Nate then, someone I know significantly better than I know Haylen now.

 

Why does it feel like I didn’t do the right thing?

 

Dammit.

 

Dammit.

 

Dammit.

 

Why do I feel like this? I was just doing my job. Not only did Haylen agree to it, she was damn near encouraging me during her torture. 

 

My mind started replaying things from the ‘interrogation’. Her ribs snapping, the feeling of her shuddering under each blow.

 

Her screams of pain.

 

God damm it.

 

My right arm shot out, fist slamming into a metal paneled wall with all the force it had wanted to hit Haylen with. The sheet of steel caved in under the force of my anger with a squealing that matched the Scribe’s cries.

 

What’s wrong with me? Yes, Haylen trusted me, but this is what I do . If I can’t hurt people, how do I do my job? How do I do what I’m good at? And if I’m being honest with myself…

 

Something I enjoy.

 

My hand drifted from the destroyed panel to my side. 

 

Standing here punching walls won’t accomplish anything. I can figure out whatever the hell is going through my head later. For now, I need to make sure Haylen gets taken care of. 

 

Not that I can add anything to that front either, I break people, not fix them, but the least I could do is be there.

 

When I got back to the large room, Susan and Blake were standing over the Scribe. She had a brace around her neck and they were working on wrapping her left arm. As soon as I entered, Danse marched over and stood beside me. He didn’t say anything as we watched the two settlers treat Haylen as best they could. They were both experienced, worked well together, and moved her as little as possible. Even so, every few seconds, a subdued groan would reach us. Each time it did, Danse tensed, but he stayed planted, eyes locked on the three of them.

 

“Five more minutes”, Susan called.

 

Even though they weren’t facing us, Danse nodded. He was still upset, but the simmering rage had died down to what seemed like his normal background level of irritation.

 

The relative silence continued as the two of them worked. 

 

This needed to happen. Haylen not only understood and agreed, she was the one who came up with the idea. 

 

Doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty about this.

 

Which is fine, but I can’t change what’s done.

 

Can I find a way to do it better next time? Could I have kept this from happening?

 

Maybe, but what matters right now is making sure she’s okay and this works.

 

… Right.

 

Blake stood from the side of the bed. “Alright, we’re ready to go.”

 

Before he’d finished the sentence, I was already striding forward. “I’ll carry her.”

 

“No-”

 

My head snapped to Danse. “It will be easier for me to keep her still. I’ll carry her.” I cocked my head at him. “You’re staying here.”

 

That’s something we’d already discussed, but judging by the fury that rekindled in his eyes, he didn’t quite agree with that idea anymore.

 

“Like hell-”

 

“Danse”, I interrupted, “you’re here because Haylen asked me to find you. If it hadn’t been for her, and me , you’d be in a cell, under experimentation, or dead.”

 

“ I didn’t ask you to ‘save’ me.” He flailed an arm at the Scribe. “If she’s the only reason I’m here, I’m going to make sure Haylen is going to recover. I’m sure as hell not leaving her in your care.”

 

“You aren’t leaving her in his care”, Blake interjected. The other man’s voice was steady, but damn near poisonous. “You’re leaving her in ours and I’d appreciate if you didn’t insinuate we are unable to do our jobs adequately. Both of us have dealt with far worse than this.”

 

This wasn’t punishment, per se, I don’t care if he’s around Haylen. “If the Brotherhood finds you, it puts everyone in Sanctuary at risk. I’m not taking that chance.”

 

“Danse”, the injured woman groaned from the bed, “please. If you don’t stay here, what was the point of this?”

 

The former Paladin hesitated, eyes shifting between everyone else in the room. An argument couldn’t have been more obvious if it was written on his face.

 

“This isn’t going to get us anywhere. We’ll take care of her, and I’ll come back in the morning and give you an update.” Susan nodded to me. “They’re right.” She waved me over. “Come on.” 

 

Danse clearly wasn’t satisfied, but the two physicians didn’t seem to care. I followed Susan to Haylen. The brace they’d put around her neck, surprisingly, looked like a genuine medical implement, and she had what looked like a massive ace bandage wound around her torso. Her face was swollen, but they’d spread something bluish brown on it. Maybe a local anesthetic? 

 

Her eyes though, those were still sharp, and they were locked on me.

 

“Wrap your left arm under her neck slowly . She has whiplash and several strained muscles. Keep her head and chest supported.” The woman motioned toward Haylen’s legs. “Get your right elbow under her butt and use it to keep weight off of her abdomen and support her legs.”

 

“Understood”, I said, nodding.

 

Crouching, I gently folded my arms under the injured Scribe as instructed. Even going as slowly as I could, she groaned as I lifted her from the bed, clutching at my arm.

 

“Good, good”, Blake said and began ushering me toward the door. I kept my gait as steady as possible, allowing my arms to absorb as much of the motion as I could to keep from jarring Haylen. 

 

When the lift began its journey upward, she grunted, but nothing more.

 

“Are you taking care of her tonight?” Blake asked his partner. 

 

Susan nodded. “I promised Rose a romantic night. Who can think of anything better than looking after a patient?”

 

“I can think of plenty”, the other man grumbled. “Helen would kill me if I did that. ‘Hey hun, you wanna take care of an injured person for date night?’ No offense Haylen.”

 

A small smile flickered across the small woman’s swollen face. “None taken.” Her voice was just as strained as it had been before.

 

“Yes well Rose likes it”, Susan shot back. “Or who knows, maybe she just likes spending quiet time with me more than Helen does with you.”

 

“You know one of these days she’s gonna hear you say that and-”

 

“And she and Rose are best friends.” The smirk that spread across Susan’s face seemed a little too deliberate. “You think I’m guessing here?”

 

No answer came, at least not immediately. Instead, Blake cocked an eyebrow at his partner, definitely unsure of what to say.

 

“I’m… gonna assume you’re pulling my leg.”

 

Susan shrugged. “You can assume what you like.”

 

Maybe I’m not one to talk, but this type of banter seems a little… odd. Shit giving is outside my purview for the most part though. 

 

A moment later, the lift lurched to a stop, Haylen grunted again, and we began the short walk back down to Sanctuary. No one else spoke as we made our way to the settlement and into the house they’d designated as the infirmary. It was actually right beside the one they used as holding cells. 

 

While I’d wanted to keep Haylen in the Vault, the two physicians insisted they bring her down here. After seeing inside, I understood why. They’d managed to find a half dozen hospital beds, several oxygen tanks, cabinets full of medical supplies, and even a few AEDs and a small life support apparatus. Most of that would be unnecessary for the Scribe, but the much better bed and immediate access to supplies alone would make her more comfortable.

 

“This one”, a red-haired woman said as we entered, motioning toward a bed tucked against the far wall. Rose looked to be the same age as Susan but, like with the physician, it was impossible to tell how old that was .

 

Carefully striding toward the prescribed bed, I slowly lowered the Scribe into it and stepped away.

 

“Give us some time to get her comfortable”, Susan said, motioning toward the door. “I’ll come find you when she’s situated.”

 

My gaze shifted from her to Haylen. 

 

Susan didn’t have the patience for that either, apparently. “Go”, she ordered, pointing to the door.

 

If they want space… they’re the ones who know what they’re doing here, regardless of how I felt, so I turned and marched back out into the darkening evening. Blake followed me, rubbing his face as he walked.

 

“Hey”, the other physician said as we stopped just outside the door, “for what it’s worth, her injuries aren’t as bad as they look. The ribs and whiplash will take a while to heal all the way, but she should be good enough to transport to Cambridge in five days, a week at most.” He nodded at me. “If someone had to do this and make it look real, you did a pretty good job.”

 

An unexpected sigh of relief escaped me and I felt my shoulder slump ever so slightly. 

 

Haylen was injured, but it wasn’t too bad.

 

Blake yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Anyway, Helen’s waiting for me. I don’t have a hot date like those two”, he motioned back toward the building, “but if I don’t get back before Glen’s bedtime, she’s gonna have my ass.” He began walking. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to relieve Susan.”

 

With that, I was left alone standing in front of the house. Several settlers were milling in the area, the kids running around the street, as usual, staring my way, though that had started dying down. It was quiet and relatively peaceful.

 

Unfortunately, I knew better than anyone that wouldn’t last much longer.

 

Even if Haylen can convince the Brotherhood she was coerced into revealing Listening Post Bravo, we were about to paint a huge target on Sanctuary and the other settlements that would soon fall under the Minuteman network.

 

“Are you sure about this Preston?” Sturges asked. He was eyeing his friend with a combination of doubt and confusion. “We don’t gotta do this.”

 

The strangely dressed man shook his head. “No, I’m not sure.” He pointed at me. “That’s what he’s for.”

 

“You’re the one who has to make the decision though”, Alex interjected. She looked just as unsure as Sturges.

 

Deacon shifted. “Nah, I see what he’s saying.” His eyes hadn’t left me since Preston made the announcement to the small group. “Do you understand what you're signing up for?

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Everyone knows the Minutemen failed.” He looked at the others around the room. “That’s no insult to anyone here, we all know what happened after Becker died.” Preston’s eyes dropped to the ground. “You’re suggesting Preston takes over as the new general, but they don’t have the manpower, nor the support to stage anything major. You’re gonna have to be their support.”

 

Their support? “I intend to help.” It’s my idea.

 

The railroad agent shook his head. “That ain’t what I mean. You want to get everyone under one command structure, that makes sense, but you won’t find any stomach for that with how the Minutemen ‘ended’, even in the Railroad.”

 

I cocked my head at the man. “You’re saying I need to give people a reason to trust the Minutemen again.”

 

A small smile slipped across his face as Deacon nodded. “That’s right. Show people why they should put their faith in them again after Quincy.”

 

“If I do that, I’m advertising my partnership with the Minutemen. That puts a target on them.”

 

Another nod came in response. “True, but if you wanna do this, just like Haylen’s hair-brained scheme, you need to give people something to latch onto.”

 

“What about the Railroad?” Preston asked. “Are your people willing to go along with this?”

 

Deacon shrugged. “I could speculate, but I don’t know if that does anyone any good.”

 

The right course of action there was obvious, so obvious it was the easiest answer we had in this situation.

 

And yet…

 

“We… the three of us need to meet with Desdemona.”

 

All eyes fell on me again. 

 

“That’s probably the best move”, Deacon agreed. 

 

“What? Me?” Preston pointed at himself.

 

I nodded. “You’re the Minuteman leader. They’ll want to meet you.”

 

“But-”

 

Deacon clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let me give you a piece of advice from my time out and about: don’t think too much about this. Damon’s right, if any of us want this to work, we need to get our shit together, and if that’s gonna happen, the least we could do is get our respective leaders together.” 

 

“And what about the people in the Institute?”

 

That question felt like a deflection, but it was still a valid one.

 

“Don’t worry about them”, Deacon said. “If you get us onboard, Li’s people will join too. They’re well organized, but they’re constantly operating on a knife’s edge. The extra support will be more than welcome.”

 

Preston frowned. “Okay… didn’t think things would get this involved this quickly.” He cleared his throat. “So when do we wanna do this?”

 

“Three days”, I said. “Tomorrow is… the start of Haylen’s operation. I want two days to make sure everything is okay.”

 

“Seems reasonable.” Deacon nodded. Even through his dark-tinted sunglasses, I felt his gaze grow sharper. “You know they’re gonna be more interested in you than anyone else, right?”

 

“They?” I doubt it’s just ‘they’.

 

“Oh, me too, but I like to keep my own counsel.” He turned to Preston for a moment. “No offense to you, but the biggest question mark here is our large armored friend. Both because a lot of the initial success rides on him and”, his gaze returned to me, “the last time we saw him, things didn’t go so well.”

 

That’s an understatement.

 

“I understand.”

 

“Good, then it’s a plan. Three days, we’re heading to the Railroad.”

 

Two more days…

 

Then I have to hit a Brotherhood depot a dozen klicks to the south while the volunteers take Haylen to Cambridge. It’s supposed to be a relatively sparsely guarded position, which is why the Scribe and Danse chose it. Their thinking was it would give a little more cover to our story. Make sense; if she’s supposed to be held captive, me being out on an operation would make it much easier to reach her.

 

Yeah, the next few days are going to be busy.

 

At least that was a relief.

 

Footsteps sounded from the house behind me. 

 

“Damon”, Susan called. When I turned to her, the physician was waving me inside

 

Haylen was lying in bed, pillows supporting her legs and neck and an IV drip in her arm. While we were trying to make it look like I’d let her dehydrate, I understand them using the drip. Hell, I probably would have too.

 

“Don’t look so sad”, the Scribe mumbled. “I’m the one in a hospital bed.”

 

Sad? “I look sad?”

 

She attempted a shrug, wincing in pain. “I don’t know, thought it sounded right.”

 

“Hey”, Rose said, laying a hand on the bed beside Haylen, “we gotta take care of something, shout if he starts hittin’ you again.”

 

The smile that spread across her face was strained. “Will do.”

 

As the two of them walked out of the house, silence fell over us. Of course, there were still sounds of activity outside, but they barely registered in the small bubble around us. She looked more comfortable than she had in the Vault, at least. Not that it’s saying much considering I’d just finished ‘torturing’ her…

 

“Are you gonna say anything?” she asked. “I don’t read minds.”

 

“Why did you let me go this far?”

 

“I already told you: this is what I needed to do to get back into the Brotherhood. There are a lot of people who don’t need to die just because they follow Maxson.” The words were pained but, somehow, the small woman’s voice was as steady as ever.

 

“And you’re willing to go through this for that.”

 

She nodded the best she could through her neck brace. “There’s a lot riding on this. The more people I can get away from the Brotherhood, the less fighting there’ll be. That’s better for everyone.” Haylen fell quiet for a moment, her face going blank. Was she thinking? Or did something go wrong?

 

“Besides”, she continued before I could do anything else, “I spent enough time around Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian… heck, I worked with Julian when they first brought him back.”

 

Brought him back? Is that what you’re gonna call it?

 

The thought must have come across in my body language because the Scribe smiled apologetically. At least that’s what it looked like through her swollen face. “Sorry, when they took him. They thought, since I knew him the best out of anyone, I would be the best person for the job. He was scared and alone. He barely ate or drank for the first few days.” Her eyes started shining. “He was always asking when he was going to see ‘Cassy and Tommy’ again. When he was going home.”

 

Just as I thought the tears were going to spill over, Haylen screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. When they reopened, they were focused again. “I think that was when I first had doubts. None of the trainers considered his mental state when they started integrating him into classes. I was the only person he’d talk to, at least for a little while. Then he got quiet, started working harder and harder.” Her eyes locked onto my visor. “He’s only eight, you know. He fired a rifle for the first time about two weeks before I left. They had him on the range every day from then on. Who does that to a kid? To a kid who’s been through what he has?”

 

Who indeed.

 

So she wasn’t just doing this because we have a deal, she cares about the kid. There was more she hadn’t said, questions I’ve heard muttered in passing before. ‘Who does that to a kid?’. Most of that came after my integration into SPARTAN OPS. Most didn’t know I’m a III. The question that almost always followed was ‘how do you justify that?’.

 

Kids are malleable. It’s easier to teach kids how to fight, especially when they don’t know anything else. Given enough time or the right motivation, they’ll become better students than any adult. It sounds like that’s what’s started happening with Julian. 

 

“Child soldiers aren’t uncommon. I was one.”

 

The Scribe frowned. “Oh… is that why you want him back so bad?”

 

I nodded. “In part.”

 

She hesitated for a moment, but I could already see the question forming on her face. It was the same furrowed brow and searching eyes Nate had when he asked it. “Do you mind if I ask how old you were? When the training started?”

 

“Five. I was twelve when I killed for the first time.” I shrugged. “I’m not looking for pity, but I know what Julian’s going through”

 

“And you want to get him back to Cassandra and Thomas…?”

 

“Because I know how important it is to hold on to what you have left.” Because I didn’t.

 

Haylen’s mouth slowly drifted shut as her eyes searched me like she was seeing me for the first time. 

 

“Well…” she said eventually, “a lot of things make a lot more sense now.”

 

“Nate said something similar when he found out.” So did Valentine. Perkins didn’t say it, but it wouldn’t be hard to imagine.

 

A small smile drifted across her face. “Most people would, I think.”

 

“Probably.”

 

Haylen shifted in her bed. “Well, I have a while before I get carried off to the Brotherhood. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna get some sleep.”

 

Even though she tried to hide it, I couldn’t help but notice the bitter edge on her voice, even through her injured jaw. She had her part to play in this though, and I have mine. It isn’t too late to stop this plan, but it’s the best one we have. Besides… it’s my best chance to get Julian back and, if she’s willing to do this, I’m not going to say no.

 

“Understood”, I said, turning to leave the house turned infirmary.

 

Susan and Rose were outside, talking quietly with a teenager, maybe Julian’s age. He was on the shorter side with ragged brown hair and his eyes grew wide as he saw me emerge into the darkened street.

 

“Damon”, Susan called, “sorry for the holdup, are you done in there?”

 

Uh-huh. ‘Hold up’.

 

“Yes, she’s trying to get some sleep.”

 

She nodded. “Makes sense. We’ll come get you if anything happens.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

There were two days to kill before we left for the Railroad, wherever that is. Deacon had, understandably, kept that to himself. I would like to be able to plan a route though. It’s only going to be the three of us, I’m not risking anyone else coming along and compromising the party. Yes, MacCready would have a problem with that, but that’s his problem, not mine. This isn’t our short trip out to Oberland station to rendezvous with their team, this is us going to the Railroad’s headquarters. We’re doing this right, and I don’t have the time or patience to make sure whoever wants to tag along doesn’t make any mistakes.

 

My feet carried me back to the bridge and up the hill. There’s a discussion I need to have with Danse and this will be the first time I’ve gotten to talk with him alone. That doesn’t mean he’ll be honest with me, but at the very least he won’t be able to disengage by talking with someone else. 

 

“How is she?” the Synth demanded after I ducked into the room that had become his holding cell. It was the most comfortable prison I’ve ever seen. 

 

“Fine. Blake said she’ll be ready to move in a few days.”

 

A brief moment passed as the former Paladin struggled with his emotions. I couldn’t tell exactly what they were, but I’m sure one of them was probably relief.

 

“So what are you here for?” he asked eventually.

 

“You’ve played along, but do you intend to help with this plan or not?” I cocked my head at him. “Or are you going to side with Maxson?”

 

He scoffed. “Do you expect me to say no?”

 

“I have no expectations, Danse. I do have plans of my own though, and if you stab us in the back, that’s my plan B.”

 

“You think I’d betray you without making sure it didn’t come back to bite me?” The Synth shook his head. “I’m not that dumb.”

 

“The Institute did.” 

 

This time Danse chuckled. It wasn’t out of humor, more like an automatic response. “Yes, well, until you got there, they weren’t bright enough to encrypt their Molecular Relay network. For people who are supposed to be incredibly smart, they’re very stupid.”

 

Arrogant would fit better, but all the same.

 

“Tell me”, the other man continued, “why would you believe anything I have to say?”

 

I shrugged. “Give me a reason to.” It was the same thing I said to Haylen.

 

He frowned. “Why would I care whether you believe me or not?”

 

“Because you won’t survive doing this without help and I’m not willing to endanger the people here any more than I already am until I’m sure this will work.”

 

“Oh really”, he laughed again, this time with an edge. “You’re Mr. Altruistic all of a sudden, huh? Turned over a new leaf and become the hero?” Danse shook his head. “You and I both know that isn’t what’s happening here.”

 

It was my turn to laugh. “What have I done that suggests I’m heroic? Help Haylen? Save you? Those were both because you two are assets someone like me doesn’t get access to very often. It’s because you’ll make fighting this war easier. My only concern for the Brotherhood is getting Julian back and minimizing the damage they do to Sanctuary and their network.”

 

“That includes destroying the Brotherhood?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

 

“You already know the answer. What that looks like is up to you.”

 

“What if I don’t think you can ?” He straightened, pulling his shoulders back and drawing himself up as tall as he could. “Maxson has more than enough manpower to overwhelm you.”

 

Is that so? “Throwing bodies at a problem is rarely the right solution.”

 

“We both know it isn’t just bodies.”

 

“So what you’re saying is you want the Brotherhood to tear the Commonwealth apart trying to kill me?” I chuckled again. “Even if we assume they succeed, I’ll make sure it costs more than they can afford. Then what happens with the Institute?”

 

No answer. The Synth stared at me, eyes narrowed. Maybe the Brotherhood can pin me down and kill me, but I will make it hurt. As always though, I’m going to bet on myself. So as they throw time, people, and resources at me, the Institute will have every opportunity to drive a knife in their back. The Brotherhood doesn’t have the resources or experience to fight both me (and the soon-to-be Minutemen) and the Institute. 

 

“This is a losing fight. Is that worth it when someone like Haylen thinks it’s the wrong thing to do in the first place?”

 

Danse’s back went stiff. “What do you mean ‘someone like Haylen’?”

 

That struck some chord with him apparently. “Someone with the ability to see past the bullshit. Someone you care about.”

 

Silence drifted over the large room as the Synth studied me, expression guarded. This is definitely one of those moments where I wish I was better at reading people. Yes, he was thinking, but what was he thinking about ? 

 

After a few moments, the former Paladin cleared his throat. “Haylen has spent a lot of time trying to convince me of what you’re saying now.” He paused again, frowning. “That what we stand for- what the Brotherhood stands for is harmful…” Danse trailed off as his eyes drifted to the floor between his boots. At the very least, I could gather he was having doubts. Whether that’s a good thing or not, I don’t know.

 

“Indiscriminate killing usually is.”

 

He glanced at me. “Speaking from experience?” The question was a stab, but that’s fine. He is right after all.

 

Though, not necessarily in the way he thinks.

 

“Yes”, I replied with a nod. 

 

He fell silent again as his gaze returned to the steel floor. It was a silence I’ve come to recognize all too well over the past few months. It wasn’t quiet contemplation, more like a lit fuze, but you don’t know how long it is.

 

“What was your answer?” the Synth finally asked, eyes still fixed on the ground.

 

“To?”

 

“You’re here, not with the Institute. Whatever you wanted from them, you turned away to help these people. Why?”

 

Why did I choose to leave the Institute? I guess that’s what you could call it. “Because I wanted to.”

 

Danse met my gaze, eyes narrowed. “Is that really all? Because you wanted to?”

 

I nodded again. “It felt like the right thing to do, and I’ve spent long enough doing the wrong thing, I thought it was time for a change of pace.” That may not have been the best justification, but it’s all I’ve got. ‘The right thing’ depends on who’s asking the question, right? In that moment, keeping Cass and Tommy safe felt like the right thing to do, so I did it.

 

It was an overly simplified explanation, but I wasn’t going to discuss details with him.

 

“And you’re saying”, he said slowly, “I think the right thing is to go along with Haylen’s plan.”

 

“No. I don’t think you know what to do, but you trust her.”

 

“Huh”, the former Paladin mumbled as he lowered himself onto his bed. There was an MRE open and half-eaten sitting beside him and the man took a bite of something that looked a lot like a bright red protein bar.

 

For a few heartbeats, the only sounds in the room were the gentle hum, probably a generator somewhere in the bunker, and him chewing. 

 

“Was the decision easy to make?”

 

If you asked me that now, the answer would be yes. At that moment though…? “No. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I’d do it again.”

 

He nodded, taking another bite. This time, when the silence wrapped itself around us, it felt as though it was there to stay. Danse continued eating his bar, staring at the ground between his feet. He hadn’t answered the question, but he appeared to be thinking about it. Did that mean Haylen hadn’t managed to convince him? Or was this just more of that same consideration? 

 

As much as I wanted to say he was just being stubborn, I can’t fault him for being uncertain. Programming is hard to break. 

 

With no sign he’d be continuing the conversation, I left the room, but I didn't go far. With the settlers relieved, it was my responsibility to guard the former Paladin. I probably could have requested a few to do it instead, but it isn’t like I have anything else to do. 

 

Two days… I’m sure I can fill that with drilling Preston’s people, the soon-to-be Minutemen. That sounds like an abysmal way to spend the next few days though.

 

Maybe I can convince Deacon to do it. He’s stuck here too.

 

X

 

Downtime is always difficult to deal with. There were two things it gave me time to do though. The first was to discuss a jamming system for the Institute’s Molecular Relay network with Sturges. The engineer had theorized about it, but he’d never tried it. Probably because he never had a reason to. 

 

Now that we have a reason to expect the Institute to infiltrate Sanctuary, countermeasures seemed like a good idea. I also requested he make a small, portable one. Sturges said he could, but it would be limited. It wouldn’t last long or have a large effective radius, but it would give me options. 

 

The second is a result of me having too much downtime. Downtime gives me too much time to come up with bad ideas.

 

And boy did I have one.

 

Deacon was the first person I found. He’d just finished giving some of the guards a crash course in close-quarters fighting, using one of the empty houses as a training ground. It wasn’t a great way to train them, but if they get attacked and someone manages to get inside their perimeter, it’ll be important.

 

Besides, it got me out of having to train them on something else.

 

“Deacon”, I called as I marched toward the man. He was heading to the common house, probably to get something to eat. It was getting late.

 

“That can’t be good”, he muttered, turning to meet me. “What’s up?”

 

Despite the darkening sky, the man was, as always, wearing sunglasses. 

 

“You said Desdemona will need convincing.” I stopped in front of the Railroad agent.

 

He nodded. “Yes… Are you gonna ask me how you can do that? Because it doesn’t mean anything if I tell you.”

 

“No.” I shook my head. “I won’t be able to convince her I’m on your side, but I can show her why she’d want me.”

 

A brief pause followed, Deacon’s eyebrow cocked at me.

 

“I’m listening…”

 

“Quincy. You think the Minutemen need a PR win. Everyone knows about Quincy. I can take it back with a little support.”

 

Deacon frowned. “Quincy? You mean one of the Gunner’s largest strongholds in the Commonwealth. Hell, probably in the northeast.”

 

It wasn’t long after I recovered from being shot and having a church dropped on me I decided to give the town a once over. The stronghold was on the north side of Boston and consisted of 15 rundown buildings reinforced with pretty much anything the Gunners could get their hands on. It reminded me of Goodneighbor. The key feature was the freeway looming over the settlement. There were a dozen shooting positions and, from what I could see, double that number of guards. It was a great position, the only access to the freeway a half klick to the west. On top of that, the structure was pockmarked with collapsing portions of the roadway. While I hadn’t gotten a good count of the Gunners in the town, it was upwards of 100, easily. 

 

Given enough time that’s a force I could eliminate, but with the proximity to the airport, and the Brotherhood, I won’t have the luxury of time.

 

And if the purpose of this little exercise is to gain the Railroad’s cooperation, having a few of them tag along to provide support could go a long way.

 

“You wanted me to convince her.” I shrugged. “This is me doing that.”

 

The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Your brand of selling yourself is to take on Quincy .” The agent huffed. “You must be awfully confident.” The amusement drained from what I could see of his face. “That why you thought you could take us down?”

 

Why I thought I could eliminate the Railroad? “Why?”

 

“Call it peace of mind.” 

 

They’d rigged the church to blow to cover their retreat. The Railroad was much better prepared than I gave them credit for. Considering they assumed we were friendly at the time, the element of surprise was a major bonus for me, but who’s to say they didn’t have any other tricks in store? 

 

“I thought I could because you had your guard down. I’ll take any advantage I can get.”

 

“What about a straight-up fight?”

 

I cocked my head at the man. “I’ll always pick myself in a fight.” One that I choose to engage in, anyway. “Again: why?”

 

He shrugged. “Trying to gauge you. I’ve never had the… opportunity to see you in action.”

 

While I wasn’t sure how asking me whether I’d have been able to wipe out the Railroad did that, it wasn’t really my concern.

 

“I’ll need time to do recon and work out a strategy.”

 

“It doesn’t sound like you’re asking me whether the Railroad will agree to this”, he responded.

 

“The Gunners have repeatedly tried to capture Synths and they’re a threat to everyone, including the Brotherhood.”

 

“Touche.” Deacon’s forehead wrinkled as he considered my proposal. It was a good deal for him: a major threat is eliminated, they get to see me work, and the Minutemen get their big opening.

 

“Alright”, he agreed. “We’ll run it by Des tomorrow. She’ll probably go for it- we hate those bastards almost as much as the Institute.” The Railroad agent shook his head. “No, actually, I personally hate them more.”

 

Their reputation wasn’t great.

 

“One thing though.” I nodded for him to continue. “We should bring Mack.”

 

“MacCready?”

 

Deacon nodded in return. “He’s got experience with them. And he’s a crack shot. If you want to convince Des to join the Minutemen, you’ll need to show them you aren’t the only thing you have to offer.”

 

Inexperience on an operation like that is how people get dead. MacCready isn’t inexperienced though. Plus, the man makes a good point: why would the Railroad want to ally themselves with the Minutemen if they aren’t a combat effective force? The main benefit to them and their mission would be the added manpower. If that added manpower is worthless, why would they put themselves at risk of exposure?

 

“Agreed, I'll talk to-”

 

"Don't worry about it", Deacon interrupted. "I already did."

 

He already did? I cocked my head. "Why?"

 

"Even if you didn't plan on doing something crazy like attacking Quincy, my point about other people still stands. Mack is a good fighter. Plus, I think Dez'll like him."

 

If you say so.

 

"We'll see about him coming to Quincy. I'll make that decision tomorrow."

 

This time, the smile found its way all the way across Deacon’s face. “Hedging bets I see.” He nodded again. “Sure, that’s fine. Now… if you’ll excuse me, there’s some food that needs eating before I hit the sack. Don’t want to start tomorrow’s journey on an empty stomach, after all.”

 

I turned to walk away when the Railroad agent's suggestion reminded me, I'm supposed to ask about Curie.

 

"Wait." The other man cocked an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. "Curie. MacCready needs her help with something. Do you know where she is?"

 

He nodded slowly. "I do... Let's take things one step at a time. We figure out if we're gonna work together, then we get into specifics."

 

Right. I nodded.

 

As the two of us parted ways, I walked past the row of planters lining Sanctuary’s main street. Charlie was still there, working to keep the crops alive. He still didn’t allow anyone to help him, glaring at anyone who dared stray near his plants. To his credit, they were large and healthy looking, which was a testament to his dedication.

 

It was also a painful display to watch. The guy was weeding them, digging at the unwanted tagalongs with a trowel before pulling them from the soil. Every few seconds, the small gardening implement would either slip from his shaking hand, or he’d have to stop, panting. He was on the second to last planter and, as he noticed me watching him, he adopted his customary glare. He’d, somehow, grown even thinner over the last month, barely more than skin on bone. The guy wasn’t going to last much longer, but he clung to those plants with a desperation I didn't see from many.

 

They were all he had left. I guess everyone needs something to hold onto.

 

Tonight wasn’t technically my night to scout the perimeter, but I’d be gone for at least tomorrow, if not more. 

 

Maybe that was just the justification I was using, these people need all the practice they can get. The real answer is I haven’t done anything for several days besides hang around Sanctuary… aside from Haylen’s ‘interrogation’. I don’t mind sleeping every night, but being able to do so while also having no way to spend that energy was uncomfortable.

 

“Hey Damon”, Brenda called as I approached the gate. She seemed to have recovered from my chiding Phillips the other day. Or maybe she hadn’t held that against me. She was standing just inside the wall along with three others. They were all armed, probably the night’s patrol.

 

“What can we do for ya?”

 

“I’ll take tonight’s patrol.”

 

The brown-haired woman frowned. “There a reason why?”

 

“Fresh air.”

 

“Pfft.” She started laughing. “Damon, we're already outside. Besides, do you get any fresh air in that tin can of yours?”

 

“It’s filtered”, I replied with a shrug. 

 

“Yeah”, one of the other guards muttered. He was a little taller than Brenda with a shaved head and thick beard. I think he was one of the guys with her the other night. Clay was his name, right? “Sounds real fresh to me.” 

 

Brenda waved the challenge away. “Look, look, I ain’t gonna try to stop you, but we’d still like to get out there and walk our patrols. The more we do this, the better we’ll be at it.”

 

An image of the half dozen guards I’ve caught half asleep flashed through my mind. It’s good to know some people here take this seriously.

 

“Feel free.”

 

“Really…” she said, squinting at me. “You aren’t gonna try something like the first night you were here again, are you?”

 

While I hadn’t been thinking about that, it wasn’t a terrible idea. 

 

Actually, now that she brought it up, that sounds like a good idea. Maybe a little less violent than the first time around.

 

“That would defeat the purpose of me doing it.”

 

The four guards all shared a glance.

 

“So you’re saying ‘yes’”, another man said.

 

Whether I do it or not, they’ll be paranoid all night now. I felt a small smile drift onto my face. As usual, schadenfreude is one of the few non-combat activities I enjoy.

 

Without answering, I stepped past them, swung the door open, and began across the bridge. The idea of watching them squirm for a little while was enticing. Get them uncomfortable before I give them anything to really be concerned about.

 

Alex was right. I’m an asshole.

 

We all have our flaws.

 

X

 

“You’re an asshole.”

 

As I followed the small group back into Sanctuary, each of them shot me an irritated glance.

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

Brenda rounded on me. “You don’t think you could have actually done something instead of teasing us all night?”

 

“Yes, but that wasn’t the point”, I replied with a nod.

 

She didn’t look happy with that answer. “Then what was the point?”

 

“To keep you vigilant.”

 

“Well, I’d say you did that alright.” The guard threw her hands up. “The last thing I need is you appearing out of nowhere.”

 

While I have to admit, I was having a bit of fun with them, that was also a red flag. “What if I hadn’t been a friendly?”

 

“We’d be dead then. How does giving all of us heart attacks change that?”

 

The other guards nodded their agreement.

 

“You now know someone might do that. Besides”, I shrugged, “it was amusing.”

 

Each of the four settlers glared at me with something between fury and annoyance.

 

After a few seconds, Brenda cleared her throat. “I’m starting to wish you were more like the stories Sturges and Preston told about you.”

 

That me would have done the same thing, I just wouldn’t have had as much fun doing it. “Careful what you wish for.”

 

Clay scoffed. “Oh believe me, if I didn’t have to spend four hours shitting my pants, I’d take that wish.”

 

It was still dark, the sun several hours away from breaking the eastern horizon, and they’d just rotated shifts. I was tempted to go back out and do the same thing with the new patrol, but scaring one group shitless in a night was probably sufficient. Besides, my presence out there, no matter what the purpose, would be a distraction if they knew I might do something like what I did to Brenda’s group. 

 

No, I’d let the next shift do their jobs. Despite my amusement though, this was something we should probably take care of. I wasn’t saying that just to get under their skin. There are plenty of threats that can sneak through the forest, some of them even carry guns. The Brotherhood doesn’t do subtle tactics, not when it comes to combat, but those are the Institute’s bread and butter. If I, begrudgingly, have to compliment Nate, it’s his adaptability. He was a grunt his entire career, but he’s taken to the Institute’s resources well. Coursers would be the main threat, considering their advanced training and active camouflage. 

 

“Get used to it; I’m going to keep doing it until you stop me.”

 

“And if I tell Preston you’re distracting us?” Brenda asked.

 

“I’ll tell him it’s better to be distracted than dead.”

 

The guard smiled. It wasn’t friendly.

 

“Uh uh. I’m calling bullshit on that one big guy. The first thing you told any of us is being distracted is a great way to get people killed. Isn’t that why you kicked Phillips off his post?” 

 

I cocked my head at the dark-haired woman. “At least you listen.” She is right after all; being distracted leads to being dead. “That’s part of the reason I’d be out there.”

 

“Sure, yeah, you can mess with us and patrol the settlement.” Brenda snorted. “I’ll believe that one when I see it.” She waved me away. “Don’t you have a trip to get ready for?”

 

It was 0230, we weren’t leaving for another four hours, and it isn’t like I have much to prep. With their slumping postures and wide-eyed stares, they all looked tired, probably from constantly worrying about where I’d come up next. 

 

Maybe I’d had a little too much fun with them.

 

“Affirmative. Go get some sleep, maybe you’ll have better luck next time.”

 

“Right”, one of them muttered as I began toward the settlement’s main street. “Maybe I’ll shoot you next time, tin man.”

 

With several hours to kill, I decided it would be a good time to take a look at the weapons Li’s people (and Nate , apparently) had sent us. While I’d had the opportunity to do so for a few days, there were more important things to take care of. Now though, with the only people up the two dozen guards, most construction projects finished, and nothing I could do outside of the settlement in the next four hours, that would be as good a way to spend the time as any.

 

Inside the armory, I pulled one from the rack and turned it over in my hands. The weapon was light for its size, but it appeared to be made for combat. The barrel was high profile so it could take a lot of heat without degrading, with a sturdy handguard around it and mounting rails on all four sides. The receiver was compact, but felt solid, and had a telescoping stock. The rifle appeared to chamber 7.62X51mm which was good because there was plenty of that going around and it was a good all-around cartridge. It didn’t have the penetrating power of the .300 Win Mag my MK18 fired, but it would handle most foot soldiers without much trouble. 

 

That was one thing that bothered me about my rifle. It had a ton of punch for a relatively compact gun, but it was stuck in a dead space between foot soldiers and power armor-equipped ones. Without hitting the lenses, it took several rounds on top of one another to dig through that armor. Granted, it would be even worse against Mjolnir, but the last time I checked, the Brotherhood wasn’t fielding these things.

 

Maybe the Railroad still has my McMillan. That sniper had plenty of stopping power.

 

Setting the rifle on the kitchen counter, my hands worked quickly to disassemble the rifle. It was incredibly similar to the MK18, so I had it broken down in a matter of seconds. Once it was, I inspected each piece, both to double check there were no hidden surprises, and to admire the craftsmanship. Yes, I’d trusted Owens’ assessment to this point, but there’s no reason to not be careful when given the opportunity. 

 

Li’s people did good work though. Everything was well made and fit in its place to perfection. Even the upper and lower receivers slid together with an almost indiscernible seam. They hadn’t been producing conventional rifles when I’d been there, so the quality of the weapon spoke volumes about their manufacturing capabilities.

 

After reassembling the first rifle, I did the same with the rest. Each told the same story: no monitoring devices, and top-notch craftsmanship. 

 

Even after that was finished, I still had hours to go.

 

All I’ve had to do over the past few days is nothing dammit.

 

Should I check on Haylen?

 

No… Probably not. She’s going to be asleep, and Blake said she’d be ready to move in a few days. No reason to disrupt her recovery. 

 

I slipped into the back room and downed an MRE and some water. There was always Danse, but he still seemed… distracted after the other day. Hopefully, he was leaning toward assisting in Haylen’s insane plan.

 

The patter of soft footsteps drifted into the house as I pulled my helmet back on. A few seconds later, Dogmeat wandered in, sniffing at the night air. He noticed me as I stepped back out into the hall, assuming his customary stare before slowly approaching. 

 

Entertaining a dog for the next two and a half hours didn’t sound all that enticing. 

 

He began sniffing around my armored boots before working his way up my legs. Even though I’d been around for almost two weeks now, the dog didn’t seem to know what to make of me. Not sure why that would matter, or why he was so intent on finding me. Nate was the one who wanted to bring the dog with us.

 

Damn… that first trip to Diamond City seemed like another life too.

 

With little else to do, I spent the remaining time walking the settlement. Most of the night guards patrolling inside Sanctuary offered me nods as I passed and, when I checked the watch positions, everyone was awake and attentive. Whenever they noticed me, they’d greet me in the same way, but I didn’t miss how their postures grew a little stiffer until I left. 

 

There’s no way they didn’t hear about what happened to Phillips, or what I’d said to Brenda. At least they responded. 

 

Eventually, the sky began fading from black to a dull blue as the stars began dimming to the coming sun. Settlers started rousing themselves and slowly trickled out of their houses. 

 

Deacon, MacCready, and Preston were three of the first, and I found them eating breakfast in the commons.

 

“Well good morning!” the Railroad agent beamed. “How was your beauty sleep?”

 

“Didn’t get any”, I answered, shaking my head. “Too much sleep and not enough activity over the past few days.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Preston said. “What is this I hear about you tormenting first watch last night?” The Minuteman didn’t sound upset, if anything there was some amusement in his voice. 

 

That was quick. “I wanted to see if they were up to the task.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow. At least that was easier to see with his oversized hat sitting on the table beside him. “Is that what you call it?”

 

“Yes.” I nodded.

 

“And?”

 

“It’ll do if whoever’s attacking has spotlights and bells on them.”

 

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in us.” MacCready snorted. 

 

"Yeah, he's always there for reassurance", Preston added. “Can you give us a few minutes to finish eating and wake up? We're gonna be stuck with you the next few days, I could use a bit of peace and quiet this morning.”

 

Reassurance won't help if you're dead. I nodded and left the three of them to their breakfast. All this waiting reminded me of countless interminable hours sitting on ONI Prowlers or, rarely, UNSC vessels awaiting deployment. I’d rather be shooting and being shot at than sitting around doing nothing. At least that’s interesting .

 

Soon enough, my companions were finished and geared. The sky was dyed orange and yellow now, which meant the sun was close to breaking the western horizon. By now, the settlement was almost in full swing, with people tending to crops, doing their morning checks on their fortifications, and greeting each other after another night survived.

 

“Let’s get a move on”, Deacon said as they met me at the front gate. “I’m interested to see how this all plays out.”

 

Preston grunted. “You say that like you’re a bystander.”

 

“Oh, I am”, the agent answered as I swung the door open and stepped through. “I’ve already made my mind up.”

 

“Is that a good thing or bad thing?”

 

We began across the bridge toward our destination. Deacon still hadn’t told any of us where the Railroad is, which is aggravating, but also understandable. 

 

The light-skinned man smirked. “I’ll let you make your mind up there.”

 

The man was too mercurial to take a guess on, and that would be if I was halfway competent at reading people under normal circumstances. 

 

It didn’t matter if he won’t be involved in whatever deliberation would happen, or at the very least be minimally involved, I needed to focus on what I’m going to say to Desdemona. Considering the last interaction we had, I still have no clue how to approach it despite having two days to think. Deacon wants me to sell my idea about Quincy, but how the hell am I supposed to do that? And that probably won’t happen for a little while considering Haylen’s plan, and the need to figure out what’s going on between the Gunners and Brotherhood. Not to mention the Raiders moving in from the north.

 

Play it by ear.

 

Oh, great advice.

 

The Railroad agent took point as we slipped into the woods, heading east. It was odd to be following someone, but if he wasn’t going to tell us where we were going, that was the only option. 

 

While we walked, the sun broke over the horizon, orange light spearing through the forest in bright rays. My visor polarized to block out the worst of the glare, but I caught Preston hiding his eyes beneath his oversized hat and MacCready pulled his cap down over his face. 

 

Deacon maneuvered through the trees, trying to keep out of the blinding light at much as possible, but that only did so much. 

 

The effects would lessen as the sun climbed into the sky, but that meant we still had an hour or so before it wasn’t directly ahead of us. 

 

45 minutes into our journey, both the others were constantly moving to keep trees or brush between them and the sun. Another benefit of my-

 

“Stop”, I muttered and halted beside a tree. Preston, MacCready, and Deacon froze. There was something on the edge of my hearing. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but it was so low and deep, I felt it more than heard it. Whatever it was, the noise was coming from the south, getting louder. 

 

Preston shifted. “What are-” 

 

“Quiet.”

 

Whatever I was hearing continued increasing in volume over the next few seconds. I still couldn’t make it out though. 

 

Turning the gain up on my audio, the dull drone turned into rapid distinct beats. It was almost like-

 

“Vertibirds”, I said. 

 

The other men turned to me. 

 

“Where?” Deacon asked.

 

I shook my head. “Don’t know, somewhere to the south. They’re heading this way.”

 

Preston looked alarmed. “What? The Brotherhood’s never come this far northwest before.” 

 

“I know.”

 

“Hmm”, Deacon hummed. “So what do you want to do?”

 

“Wait, see what they’re up to.”

 

The Railroad agent nodded. “Okay.”

 

Over the next few minutes, the beating grew steadily louder. They were still on course north. It was hard to tell, but it didn’t sound like they were headed directly for us. At cruising speed, those things move at almost 200 kilometers per hour. If they were coming toward our position, they’d be getting louder much faster. If anything it sounded like they were moving west…

 

“I hear them now”, Preston muttered.

 

West…

 

As far as I know, there’s nothing to the west the Brotherhood would be interested in. The only things that far from the city are small, scattered settlements.

 

A creeping suspicion settled into my head. There’s one thing they may be interested in. If they knew the settlements to the north of the city were networked with Sanctuary, and those settlements were resisting the Brotherhood’s demands, the first place I’d go is the center of that network.

 

“They may be heading to Sanctuary.”

 

Both MacCready and Preston shot me an alarmed glance. 

 

"How can you tell?" the newly minted Minuteman leader asked.

 

“It sounds like they’re heading northwest. There’s nothing within 40 klicks in that direction of the city they’d be interested in except Sanctuary.”

 

“If that’s the case we have to-”

 

“No", I interrupted.

 

Preston cocked an eyebrow at me. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

 

“If the Brotherhood is heading toward Sanctuary”, Deacon said, “we won’t get there in time. Besides, there isn’t much we could do if they head there en force.”

 

“What?” the Minuteman asked, voice low and angry. “So you just want me to abandon my people?”

 

“No”, Deacon replied as he looked at me. “How long would it take you to get back?”

 

We’d traveled maybe 5 kilometers. “10 minutes.” None of them would add much value in a fight. Yes, MacCready and Deacon have experience, but that doesn’t mean much against T-60. Hell, I’m not sure I could fend off a full-blown assault even with the preparations the settlement has been making. Not if they’ve brought along air support. They just don’t have the firepower to take down Vertibirds.

 

If I had the goddamn McMillan.

 

“How far is the Railroad from here?” I asked Deacon.

 

“Not far.” There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, but he understood.

 

“Are you three good to get there on your own?”

 

Both Preston and MacCready opened their mouths in unison to protest, but I held up a hand. “We don’t have time. Whatever happens, it’s going to happen before you can get back to Sanctuary. Go to the Railroad, get things worked out.” I turned to Deacon. “I’m trusting you with them. You have my frequency, right?" He nodded. "I expect a call within the next two hours.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow. “A call for…?”

 

“To update me on status, and tell me where I’m coming to meet you.”

 

“Uh-huh”, Deacon said, frowning. 

 

He didn’t say anything else, and the internal clock in my head was ticking. The sound of pounding rotors was still to the southwest, which meant they weren’t at Sanctuary yet, but the longer I stand here with my thumb up my ass, the closer they get.

 

“Deacon, I’m normally not patient.” I squared up to him. “Right now I’m very not patient.”

 

After another heartbeat’s hesitation, he shrugged. “Alright, I’ll give you a buzz. Try not to die.”

 

Both other men were staring at me.

 

“Damon-”

 

I shook my head. “We’ll talk after this, I have to go.”

 

Without waiting for a response, I slipped away from the group and into the forest. Whatever the Brotherhood is up to, the absolute last thing I need is for them to hit Sanctuary. There’s too much involved in that place now and… and-

 

I don’t want anything to happen to it, or the people who live there.

Chapter 50: Dig Two Graves

As I weaved through the trees as quickly as I could, without crashing into one, a hundred different scenarios ran through my mind. Everything from why the Brotherhood may be heading to Sanctuary, to what they might do when they get there. Did they know I was there or had been there? How would they know? Were they going to attack because of that? Did they know I have Danse? Or Haylen? How large a force would they bring? What kind of armaments? What kind of tactics would they use? How do I counter?

 

Dammit…

 

Was Sanctuary about to get blown to hell because I was stupid enough to stay with them? Should I have turned Preston’s offer down and stayed independent? 

 

None of this is helpful right now. Get back, assess the situation, and respond. I need to do my damn job, not worry about what happens if I don't.

 

My job. Right.

 

Under most circumstances, moving like this was a no-go. It was asking to get followed and ambushed. But we'd been through here not long ago and my only concern was getting back to the Institute. 

 

At one point, I came across a small pack of wild dogs that barked and growled as I skirted them. It would take time to deal with them; I need every second to get back. They didn't give chase. Maybe I surprised them.

 

Five minutes later, the distant beat of Vertibird rotors had turned into deep thuds pounding at the air. I was still around two klicks away from Sanctuary, but that confirmed my suspicions. At least it confirmed my suspicions about where they were heading.

 

Why were they going to Sanctuary? 

 

Heading directly to the settlement would end in a fight, regardless of what the Brotherhood is there for. Instead, as soon as I reached the road leading to the Sanctuary, still about a klick away, I crossed it and slipped into the river. Once I reached the opposite shore, I scrambled up the hill and into the forest above. 

 

It didn’t take more than another 10 seconds after I made it to the top of the hill to see the Vertibirds. Three of them. One was on the street in front of the bridge, the other two circling to the north and south. They were keeping their distance from Sanctuary. 

 

So not a fight, at least not yet.

 

Then what the hell are they here for?

 

As I slipped over the hill's crest and crept toward the settlement, I watched a half dozen power armored forms disembark from the grounded VTOL. Once they were across the bridge, four more unarmored Brotherhood members jumped out, two carrying a stretcher.

 

They were here for Haylen.

 

Shit . If they're here for Haylen… There are too many possibilities. I can't speculate on that now.

 

I continued along the hillside, making myself as small as possible until I was adjacent to the bridge. Lying in the dirt and underbrush, I crawled my way toward the crest of the next hill. They wouldn't have people patrolling the forest. There was too much ground to cover and, unless more soldiers arrived on foot, not enough capacity in those Vertibirds.

 

To be fair, if this was a quick in and out, that’s standard tactics; taking time to position overwatch in an unfamiliar area was asking for trouble. Plus, it’s largely unnecessary if you have mobile overwatch, like air support. 

 

And no threat of anti-aircraft fire.

 

As I watched, someone swung the front gate open and the squad of armored soldiers marched inside. When I propped my rifle up in the dirt and looked through the scope, I saw Alex walking alongside the lead soldier. 

 

She looked pissed . At this distance, and with the rotors of the three Vertibirds beating the air, there was no way I could hear her, but she was saying something and she didn't look happy. 

 

A few dozen settlers were lining the streets, all of them armed, and I had no doubt even more were taking position in some of the hardened structures around them. Despite everything, I allowed myself a small smile. The Brotherhood was trying to intimidate them and, even if they’d lose this fight with the armaments they have, the people of Sanctuary weren’t about to let them. 

 

Whatever I have to do, I need to get them some heavy ordinance. While training and experience are vital to winning any fight, the will to fight is a force's most important foundation.

 

And dammit, these people have it.

 

This situation only made things clearer: without the right equipment and preparations, that will doesn't mean much.

 

The group of four unarmored personnel followed close behind the armor squad as they made their way directly to the house they’d converted into a medical station. That was suspicious. Unless one of them asked Alex where Haylen was, that meant they knew exactly where to look when they arrived. 

 

The only way that can happen is if there’s someone within Sanctuary who is feeding them intel. That meant they probably wouldn’t know Danse was in the Vault, but it also meant they knew I was working with the settlement. Why wouldn’t they come in with more forces then? Three Vertibirds at capacity could carry two squads of power-armored soldiers. They sent more than that to find me the other day. 

 

Unless they weren’t here for a fight.

 

I hate not having enough information. 

 

While the unarmored personnel entered the building, the Brotherhood soldier Alex had been arguing with finally turned to address her. Whatever they said didn’t sit right with the woman. I can’t read lips, but she was shouting at them now, and her hands were on her rifle. 

 

She looked tiny next to the bulky armored soldier, but she very clearly didn't care.

 

The armored soldier shouldered their laser rifle. It wasn’t aimed at anyone in particular, but that wasn’t a good sign. I placed the crosshairs on the back of the bastard’s helmet and rested my finger on the trigger. It wouldn’t get through the thick steel plate, but it would buy Alex some time to get away if things went sideways. 

 

If that happened though, I’m not sure how much giving her time would help. Most of the houses were armored, but they hadn’t had a chance to secure the roofs. Even if they had, the large caliber chin guns on the Vertibirds would chew through it in no time. With weapons poorly suited to drop armored air support, or even deal with the soldiers on the ground, that fight wouldn’t go well. 

 

Before things could go any further, Alex let go of her rifle and stepped away, shouting a parting shot at the armored soldier standing over her. 

 

The unarmored Brotherhood members were exiting the house a moment later, the stretcher carried between two of them with Haylen lying on it. The Scribe had her eyes screwed shut and a grimace on her face. 

 

With their prize in tow, the T-60-clad soldiers formed a protective guard around the others and they marched back through the settlement. Unsurprisingly, a large contingent of armed and angry settlers followed them. 

 

Despite that, nothing else happened. The Brotherhood forces exited the gate, loading Haylen into the waiting Vertibird. Its rotors began pounding at the air and it lifted off of the broken asphalt. 

 

So they weren’t interested in a fight. Their only concern was getting Haylen out. 

 

Why?

 

Why, if they know I’m working with Sanctuary, would they come in with such a small force and leave without firing a shot? Why would they wait until I wasn’t there to extract her? Did this have something to do with why they had Initiates on their search parties to find me? Did they have larger operations going on I wasn’t aware of?

 

Too many questions I didn’t have the ability to answer.

 

Maybe Alex can give me some information.

 

Whatever the case, moving down into the settlement now is a bad idea. There’s someone there who is informing us. The last thing I need is for the Brotherhood to know I might know that.

 

If I could get her to come up and meet me, that might work.

 

More out of habit than any persisting threat, I crawled my way back until Sanctuary was out of sight before standing. Deacon still had another hour and a half until he had to contact me. I have some time to figure out what the hell just happened. First step is getting Alex up here.

 

Skirting the hillside, I circled around to the shack. Two men were there, both on the deck looking back down into Sanctuary. I didn’t know the names of either, but I recognized them from the last time I was here to retrieve Nora’s body. That isn’t proof neither of them are plants, but the longer someone has been present, the less likely it is.

 

“Hold fire”, I called as I approached the armored post.

 

Both men whirled on me, rifles raised.

 

“Holy shit!” one of them said, a medium-height man wearing the same thick jacket and worn cargo pants I see on a significant portion of the other settlers. “Damon? Wh- do you know what the hell just happened?”

 

I shook my head. “No. Get Alex, tell her-” I was about to say 'tell her Danse wants to talk.' That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Most people in Sanctuary don’t know he’s in the bunker. Without knowing who might be the informant, there’s no way I can risk that information getting around. “Tell her she needs to see something up here immediately. Do not mention me, understood?”

 

The two of them exchanged a glance and, after a brief pause, the man nodded. “Yeah… sure, I’ll be back in a minute.”

 

As he hurried down the hill toward Sanctuary, the other guard eyed me suspiciously.

 

“You sure you don’t know what just happened? The Brotherhood’ve never been up here before.”

 

“They wanted Haylen back. That’s all I know.”

 

He didn’t look satisfied but remained quiet. A few minutes later the other guard returned, Alex following close behind.

 

“Damon, what the hell is going on?” she asked, eyes wide. She did her best to hide it by holding onto her rifle, but I didn’t miss her hands trembling.

 

“That’s what I came back to find out. What were they saying?”

 

Alex frowned. “They said they knew you were working with us and that you’re a danger to everyone. If anyone sees you, we should report it to them at Cambridge right away.”

 

That sounded like a truncated version of the ‘conversation’.

 

I nodded. “What was the shouting about then?”

 

“Oh”, she said, shrugging. “They told me any actions taken against the Brotherhood would be considered a direct attack and they would 'respond in kind'. I kindly told that bastard he could shove it up his ass.” 

 

Her eyes narrowed as she fell silent for a moment, clearly considering something.

 

“How did they know Haylen was here?” 

 

“Informant. If they’d tracked us here it would have been a lot worse.”

 

“Yeah, but this still doesn’t make any damn sense”, she said. “Why wouldn’t they come in and take over? Or attack us at all?”

 

“I have no idea”, I replied, shaking my head, “but we need to figure out who they planted here.”

 

She nodded. “Uh-huh. I don’t like the idea that someone in our community- someone we invited into our home would be spying on us.” Alex’s voice was low and subdued, but I could hear the fury boiling just beneath the surface

 

That was emotional and, while I can understand it, that won’t help figure this out.  

 

Alex sighed. “Well whatever the case, we need to find out who it is.” She eyed me. “I don’t suppose you have any bright ideas for that one.”

 

“No. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I’ve used informants, but good ones are almost impossible to find. They managed to get at least one into the Institute.”

 

“Oh man…” she trailed off, glancing behind her down toward Sanctuary. “If they can’t find whoever the Brotherhood got in…”

 

She was going to say ‘how will we?’ While under most circumstances I agree, there are two disadvantages that may help us here. There are only three radios in Sanctuary: one is on my hip, Sturges has another locked in his workshop, and the last one Preston has hidden in the walls of his house. The other is there aren’t anywhere near as many people in Sanctuary as there are in the Institute.

 

That means whoever the spy is will have a fourth radio that hasn’t been accounted for yet, and we have far fewer people to search.

 

“Well we have to try”, the first guard said. “We can start making a list of people who might be responsible.”

 

“I know, I know”, Alex replied, running a still shaking hand through her hair. The encounter got to her more than she wanted to let on. “There are some people we know we can clear, I-” she looked down at her trembling hands. “I just need some time to think. For now let’s keep this between the four of us, Sturges, and Owens, okay? I’ll go get them filled in. Until we can figure this out though, we have to keep it quiet.”

 

“Agreed”, I said as the other two offered nods. 

 

Alex’s gaze turned back to me. “So what are you gonna do?”

 

“Head out and find the Railroad. Deacon took Preston and MacCready there while I came here. Don’t tell Danse anything, I’ll deal with that when we get back.”

 

“Alright then”, she replied. “Any idea when that’ll be?”

 

I shook my head. “Depends on if we can convince them to join. Contact me if anything comes up.”

 

“Gotcha. We’ll be careful.”

 

While I wanted to stay in the area in case the Brotherhood came back, I couldn't think of any reason they would. They have Haylen and they think I'm not here. Unless they somehow get word I came back, they shouldn't return.

 

Even if they did, I don't have the weapons to take down Vertibirds.

 

With that in mind, I nodded and I have no clue where it is, but the closer I am when Deacon contacts me, the better. Besides, staying around Sanctuary right now won’t help anyone. If I turn up right after the Brotherhood leave, and while I’m supposed to be with the Railroad, whoever their informant is probably gets cold feet.

 

As I made my way back toward the east side of the hill, I began thinking about possibilities again. 

 

Start with the basics and work my way up. What information do I have right now?

 

First, they knew Haylen was in custody and she’d been ‘interrogated’. Second, they knew I was working with Sanctuary.

 

The settlement was well out of sight when I slipped back across the river.

 

Third, they didn’t want an engagement for whatever reason. Fourth, they didn’t know Danse was there. Fifth, they do plan on coming after me at some point.

 

The pounding rhythm of the Vertibirds’ rotors had almost faded into obscurity by the time I was back in the forest.

 

… Why can’t anything go right? It feels like every time I try to put a plan together, something happens before anything gets started. Then I have to start from the beginning again.

 

Now I have to deal with the fact Haylen was back in the Brotherhood’s custody and I have no way of knowing whether they think she cooperated with me or not. She wasn’t supposed to be returned to them for another two days, and that was supposed to coincide with me hitting that Brotherhood depot. That shit’s out the window now because, if I leave MacCready and Preston on their own at the Railroad, Desdemona might get cold feet, if she doesn’t have them already. Plus Maxson is going to have his people on high alert for retaliation of some sort.

 

Shit…

 

Slipping through the forest, heading back for the Railroad after what just happened at the settlement felt wrong. It felt like I should do something about it.

 

But there wasn’t anything to do. I don’t know where they’re taking Haylen and, even if I did, trying to get her back would be a terrible idea.

 

Besides, it’s still possible the Brotherhood might buy the story. Whether it was someone from Sanctuary who brought her to Cambridge or their own forces, they found her with injuries consistent with torture. It was amateurish torture, but it’s still torture. I was relying on her to sell the story once she was back anyway.

 

As I stopped to backtrack, making sure no one was following, something felt off. I’m assuming whoever tipped the Brotherhood off Haylen was in Sanctuary hadn’t seen her other than when I brought her to the medical station. If they saw us leave together to find Danse, the plan was blown.

 

And there’s no way for me to know that until Haylen gets in contact.

 

For now, I’ll do what I can here. MacCready and Preston need to hear about this too. 

 

By the time I reached the area I’d parted ways with the others, an hour had passed since I began back for Sanctuary.

 

Felt like a lot longer than that.

 

Maxson is a smart mfer and he, apparently, has people everywhere. If you have the manpower, it’s an extremely valuable asset. It’s one of the reasons ONI is so dangerous; they have the resources to put as many people as they want almost anywhere. The Brotherhood is spit in the wind compared to ONI, but considering the… sparse population of this Earth, they might be just as dangerous.

 

I didn’t have to wait long for the radio on my hip to start squawking.

 

“Damon”, the low, muffled voice came through the small pouch.

 

They probably have someone in the area watching for me. My eyes roamed the forest of sickly trees and brown underbrush. It isn’t like I was trying to move unseen, but for one of them to have eyes on me without my noticing…

 

Not bad.

 

Fishing the small radio from my satchel, I hit the transmit button.

 

“I copy.”

 

“You’re back soon.” It was Deacon. “Head directly west, we’re waiting for you.”

 

“Understood.”

 

With the radio back in its pouch, I weaved through the forest toward Deacon’s position. Now the question is: who is ‘we’?” There isn’t a doubt in my mind they brought some form of escort. They don’t trust me any more than I trust Nate.

 

Understandably. 

 

My question was answered soon enough. 

 

A small break in the forest ahead of me opened into a clearing. There, the Railroad agent was waiting for me with Charlie and Glory flanking him. Each had a large caliber rifle.

 

The one in Charlie’s hands was mine .

 

Considering the three of them were close together, and they wouldn’t have been able to see me from here, they probably have more people in the forest around me.

 

Which means I’m effectively walking into a trap.

 

If this is what it takes… I took a deep breath and stepped into the clearing. 

 

As soon as I was in sight, both Railroad soldiers had their weapons trained on me. It may have been a little irrational, but it felt wrong to have the McMillan aimed at me.

 

“Stop there”, Glory ordered. “Lay your weapons on the ground and step away from them.”

 

The McMillan chambers a 12.7mm round and whatever Glory was holding looked similar. Neither of them would get through the titanium hard armor, but they'd dig through more vulnerable spots on my undersuit. After they get through the shields. I have no way of knowing how many people are around me and what they may be armed with. Even so, if they let me take down the two soldiers guarding Deacon and I got into the forest, things would get bad for them very quickly. 

 

But it isn’t a fight I want to take. I’m under no delusions they'd be as prepared as they can be, and I don’t know enough about their preparations to say I’d win. That isn’t why I don’t want to take this fight. No, I don’t want to take this fight because I need- want these people to trust me. Sanctuary needs their help. I will too if I want to get Julian back and eliminate the Brotherhood, or at least the threat they pose, in a reasonable amount of time. That’s without saying anything about the Institute. 

 

Besides, like I told Deacon, I think these people are doing the right thing. Maybe not as well or as much as they could be, but they’re a lot better than the alternatives.

 

I raised my left hand as I slipped the HK-33’s sling over my head and laid it on the ground. Once I unclamped the MK-18 and my handgun, setting them beside it, I stepped away, both hands held out to my side.

 

“Knife too”, the woman demanded.

 

It was symbolic more than anything; if I could kill them with the knife, I could do it with my hands, but I’m cooperating here, aren’t I?

 

After I tossed my knife into the small collection of weapons, movement from my left caught my attention. Another Railroad soldier emerged from the forest. He was the same height as Deacon with yellowish blonde hair and a deep tan. I recognized him but, as usual, didn’t know his name.

 

The man slowly stalked toward me, rifle trained on my head the entire time. When he reached my weapons, he hurriedly collected them before retreating toward the other three.

 

“We’re clear people”, Charlie called.

 

As soon as the order was given, a dozen Railroad members emerged from the treeline around us, each had a weapon on me. One of them had a large caliber rifle, but the rest were carrying an assortment of combat rifles.

 

My eyes drifted back to the original trio, neither Glory nor Charlie was aiming at me anymore.

 

If they put their hardest hitters in the line of fire…

 

They weren’t looking for a fight either. They just wanted to make sure I wasn’t.

 

An unexpected wave of relief washed over me. I don’t know if it was Deacon’s council or MacCready and Preston had already won them over but it meant they were giving me the benefit of the doubt.

 

That’s a start.

 

Deacon waved me forward. “Let’s get a move on. We don’t like being in the open this long.”

 

Nodding, I followed them into the forest as the rest of the guard formed a loose, wide semicircle around me. Even if they weren’t looking for a fight, they were going to play it safe.

 

The Railroad agent hadn’t been lying when he said their new base was close by. Less than 15 minutes of trudging through the forest later, I found myself standing in front of a bunker with similar construction to Listening Post Bravo. The exterior was smaller and tucked into a large rock outcropping still in the middle of the forest. Well hidden and, most likely, hardened. It wouldn’t surprise me if they’d maintained this as a fallback position.

 

Glory rounded on me as we came to a stop. “I don’t need to tell you what happens if you’re here to backstab us again, do I?” I shook my head. “Good.”

 

Deacon grunted. “Yeah, yeah Glory, let’s leave the threats out here, okay? It isn’t going to help any of us learn to trust one another.” He swung the door open and motioned inside. “After you.”

 

In the bunker was another greeting party, this time it was Desdemona standing in the small room that looked like some sort of lobby with a somehow still intact wooden desk on the wall to my left, a computer, and several manila folders on it. Other than that, the concrete room was bare. 

 

“Hello again, Damon”, the Railroad commander said, the ice in her tone only matched by her glare.

 

I nodded. “Ma’am.”

 

She arched an eyebrow at me. “Honorifics? Seems awfully formal for you.”

 

Formal? Not really. Granted, I’m not exactly sure what to do here. I’d been so preoccupied with both making sure I didn’t let myself get caught off guard again and figuring out what the hell to do with the situation at Sanctuary, I hadn’t given this any thought.

 

And coming up with a good way to convince her on the spot is not in my wheelhouse.

 

“Just a greeting, Desdemona.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She looked past me to the others. “Resume normal operations, Glory, Charlie, and Deacon with me.”

 

As a few of the guards filtered past us and the others dispersed back into the forest, Glory pulled the door shut behind her, closing the four of them in with me. 

 

Either they had a play I didn’t know about, or they really were trusting me here.

 

Even though I knew they wouldn’t let me talk with them until after they were satisfied I wasn’t here to attack the Railroad again, I had to stop myself from asking to see Cass and Tommy. It’s been over a month, I can wait a little longer to do this right.

 

“So let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” Desdemona said. Her voice was still cold enough to freeze the air around us. “We all know you came to our headquarters to attack us on Father’s orders. Deacon has told me the reason you didn’t was that you didn’t want to hurt Cass and Tommy. He also told me you seem to have had a change of heart about what you’re doing here. So I’m going to ask you this once and if I don’t like your answer this conversation ends. Why should we trust you?”

 

Why should they trust me? That’s a good question. A barrage of different answers flooded my mind, so many and so fast I couldn’t keep track of them all. Because I’m your best chance of handling both the Institute and the Brotherhood. Because I believe you’re doing the right thing and want to help. Because this alliance is the only way anyone in the Minutemen or the Railroad is going to survive this war.

 

None of those sat right though, and I doubt she’d take any of them. She’s had an hour to talk with MacCready and Preston, she knows my intent. I'm sure she's also aware of the other arguments. They aren't a reason to trust me, they're a reason she needs help.

 

Why should they trust me? Why would I trust me now as opposed to then? Why should Cass and Tommy trust me?

 

I sifted through the deluge of responses looking for the right one. I know it’s there, but what is it?

 

“I’m waiting”, the Railroad commander said, eyes narrowed.

 

Why should anyone trust me now? Why do Preston, Alex, Valentine, Perkins, and the others in Sanctuary trust me? Why did Haylen trust me?

 

“Dez”, a voice came from beside me. I turned to find Deacon standing there, watching me. “The only reason he’d be here right now is if he wanted to help. He isn’t with the Institute or Brotherhood, and you heard what Preston said.” The agent met Desdemona’s gaze. “The kid made a mistake but, when it came down to it, he made the right call.”

 

Kid?

 

“You’re saying you trust him?” Desdemona asked.

 

Deacon nodded. “The people in Sanctuary do, most of ‘em anyway.”

 

“And you trust their judgment?”

 

“I trust they’d do everything they can to keep their families safe, and that’s with Damon’s help and joining us.”

 

Silence settled over the four of us as Desdemona’s eyes turned back on me. Even if I wasn’t horrible at reading expressions, I doubt I’d be able to read hers. 

 

What Deacon said made sense, and I agree with it, but why do the people in Sanctuary trust me?

 

Maybe I can ask Preston…

 

“Alright”, the Railroad commander said eventually. “Let’s get started then.”

 

She turned and marched further into the bunker, closely followed by the two Railroad soldiers. Deacon shot me a quick smile before starting after them.

 

He’d stood up for me. 

 

Why?

 

What have I done to earn his trust?

 

Worry about it later, handle this for now.

 

Right.

 

I followed the group down a narrow hall that was barely large enough for two people to fit side by side. It was bare besides the light fixtures set into the ceiling, illuminating our path. 

 

We emerged from the corridor into a much larger room. In fact, it might have been bigger than the cavern they had under the church. If it weren’t for the smooth walls and sharp corners, it could have been that cavern. It had most of the same equipment, tables, and chairs in the same layout, and Railroad members going about their tasks, whatever those happened to be. 

 

There were a few differences though; instead of Tom’s old, dilapidated-looking setup, they were using a server built into the far wall. Accompanying it were several computer banks and terminals organized in the same corner. Tom wasn’t the only one working on them either. There were several people I didn’t recognize seated in front of the terminals, tapping at the keyboards.

 

As soon as I entered the room though, all activity stopped. Every eye was on me. As usual, the attention was almost physically painful. My body wanted nothing more than to find somewhere to move, to hide and get out of the line of sight. This many people looking at me from this many different directions, especially without my weapons, made me feel vulnerable. 

 

I’m not here to fight.

 

Taking a deep breath, I began searching the room. I didn’t know if it was for Preston and MacCready, or Cass and Tommy, but finding a familiar face among the few dozen strangers staring at me might make this a little more tolerable.

 

It only took a moment before I spotted the two men from Sanctuary. They were sitting at the collection of tables set in the corner to my right. With them were a handful of Railroad personnel. They were watching me too.

 

“Get back to it.” I almost jumped when Desdemona spoke the order. I hadn’t realized, but the room had grown silent as its occupants stared at me. 

 

Slowly, the Railroad members resumed their tasks as their commander led us toward Preston and MacCready. 

 

“Preston here told us what you’re planning”, she said, sitting at the large, galley-style table. “If this were any other time I’d say absolutely not.” The woman looked up at me. “Even now, I’m not sure I like the idea. More people means more exposure, more exposure means we’re more likely to get caught.”

 

“Ms. Desdemona-” Preston started, but a frown from the Railroad commander cut him off.

 

“Like I told you before, Desdemona is fine.”

 

The Minuteman nodded. “Sorry, Desdemona. I don’t know if you can worry about that anymore. Yes, staying hidden means it’ll be harder for the Institute to find you, but the Brotherhood isn’t going to stop just because the Institute is gone. A lot of people know you exist, and the Brotherhood isn’t gonna let you continue existing, especially if you’re hiding Synths from them.”

 

“You’ve already said that.”

 

“You’re right”, Preston responded. “I’ll keep saying it as many times as I need. The more people you have, the better your chances of surviving and the Minutemen need your help if we’re going to provide that support.”

 

“The Minutemen, huh?” Desdemona frowned, looking back at me. “They told me that’s your idea.” I nodded. “Care to explain?”

 

What’s there to explain? “Simplified command structure and fewer conflicting objectives. You each cover the other’s weaknesses.”

 

“And what about you?” she asked.

 

“I’m here to do whatever I need to make this work.”

 

“Why?”

 

Why? Why am I doing this? Memories of the Covenant flashed through my mind again. The Brotherhood isn’t the Covenant, but they’re analogous. “Maxson and his cult remind me of some people I don’t like. They’re dangerous; things will get a lot worse here if they go unchecked.”

 

Desdemona grunted. “So you care about the wellbeing of the Commonwealth, is that it?”

 

I shook my head. “I care about the people in Sanctuary.” And Cass, Tommy, and Julian.

 

“Well, at least you’re honest.” She paused, glancing between Preston, Deacon, and me. “Deacon has also told me about your plans with Paladin- or I guess I should say former Paladin Danse and former Scribe Haylen. You intend to make any defectors members of the new Minutemen too?”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“Hmmm. He also told me how you want Preston to be the head of the Minutemen, ignoring his inexperience, while you provide the fighting power.”

 

“Not all of it, but fighting is what I was made to do.”

 

She nodded. “Right, until we can get their people up to snuff.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you want to get things started, get people believing in the Minutemen again, by taking Quincy back.”

 

‘Taking back’ implied we’d occupy it. That isn’t the plan, but she’s close enough. “Correct.”

 

The Railroad leader hummed as she leaned back in her seat. “Seems like a plan with a lot of potential problems.”

 

“Agreed”, Preston replied. “That’s why we’re here talking to you. We think making this agreement under the banner of the Minutemen will help inspire people to join us. Like you said, we don’t have the experience to do this. You and your people do.”

 

“Are you saying you’d follow our lead?” Desdemona asked.

 

The Minuteman nodded. “Yes.”

 

As the word faded, nothing replaced it besides the bustling activity around us. Desdemona was still watching Preston but, like when she greeted me, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. That she was thinking about the idea at all was promising, especially with how involved I am in it, but I had no clue which way she would decide.

 

Preston looked nervous, with a deep frown on his face and hands that wouldn't stop fidgeting. I don’t doubt everyone else saw it, but I’m not sure it matters in a situation like this. The Railroad knows Sanctuary needs their help, the same way they know Preston is right about the Brotherhood. 

 

“You’ll need to give me some time to discuss it with a few others”, the Railroad commander said. She turned to Deacon. “Are you sponsoring this little escapade?” The agent nodded. “Alright then. Glory?” When the soldier met her gaze, Desdemona nodded toward the back of the large room. The white-haired woman shot me a glance and left.

 

Desdemona stood. “We will reconvene after we’ve had a chance to talk but I won’t promise an answer by then.” She looked around at the other Railroad members at the table. “Let’s give them some space.”

 

With that, the others departed leaving MacCready and Preston looking up at me.

 

“What happened with the Brotherhood”, the Minuteman asked. “They went to Sanctuary?”

 

“Yes”, I replied nodding. “They didn’t attack. They took Haylen and left.”

 

Preston frowned. “They took Haylen? How did they find out about her?”

 

“They most likely have an informant in Sanctuary.”

 

If their grimaces were anything to judge by, that didn’t sit well with either of them.

 

“Informant?” MacCready echoed. “What for?”

 

“They know I’m involved with you, and they told everyone there they needed to report if I turned up again. Alex is working with Sturges and Owens on figuring out who it is, but we’re on the Brotherhood’s radar now.”

 

Preston took a deep breath. “So no one was hurt?”

 

“No”, I answered, “but I don’t know if Haylen is compromised, and won’t until she contacts me. That means I have to put our plans there on hold.”

 

“Fair.” The oddly dressed man looked around the bunker. “I’m sure the Railroad could help out with that.”

 

Probably.

 

The sound of footsteps from behind us caught my attention. They were heading toward us.

 

When I turned-

 

It was Cass and Tommy.

 

They were being led by Glory across the massive room. Both were staring at me, apprehensive. 

 

I shuddered as I watched them approach. I hadn’t seen either of them in over a month. Cass had cut her brown hair short and Tommy looked like he’d grown since then. Neither of those things hurt though.

 

What hurt was the uncertainty in their eyes.

 

“Damon…” Cass offered as they stopped in front of me.

 

This is a moment I wasn’t sure I’d get. I’d spent the last month hoping , but now it was here, now that I was standing in front of them, it felt so… anti-climatic. Are they happy to see me? Do they want to see me? 

 

Silently staring at them wouldn’t help anything. 

 

“Hey. Sorry it took so long.”

 

The teenager blinked. “Does… that mean your back? No more disappearing acts? No more attacking people?”

 

No more attacking people? “No more attacking the wrong people.”

 

She didn’t respond immediately. There was a hint of fear in Cass’s eyes. It wasn’t fear of me, at least I don’t think it was. 

 

“Do you promise? Not to leave again?”

 

Unexpected emotion choked my throat and I let go of a deep breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. She wants me around. Judging by the careful smile on Tommy’s face, he does too. Even after what I did, they do want me around.

 

They want me around 

 

The real answer was I’d do everything I could to make sure I didn’t, but this is war and nothing’s ever certain.

 

That was the wrong answer.

 

I nodded. “I promise.”

 

A broad smile spread across Cass’s face and she reached forward to wrap her arms around my waist.

 

“Thank you”, she said and, even though her face was buried in a titanium plate, I could hear it thicken with emotion. 

 

Tommy had a hold of my left leg and, with the two of them wrapped around me, I caught MacCready, Preston, and Glory all watching me. It was a mixture of curiosity and, on the Railroad soldier’s part, concern. What did it look like? Two kids hugging me, an almost two-and-a-half meter tall walking, armored weapon. 

 

A better question might be what would I think looking at it?

 

My eyes dropped to Cass and Tommy, both still latched onto me.

 

Why? Why do they want me around so bad? After I failed to get Julian back? After I betrayed them? 

 

Why do they trust me? 

 

Whatever the reason, I felt a spark of pride in my chest. They wanted me around, regardless of the reason. Even after being away for a month, after leaving like I did, they did trust me.

 

“Any time”, I replied, placing a hand on her back. 

 

The embrace lasted a moment longer before Cass pulled away and cleared her throat. “So, uh, we met Mac and Preston, sounds like you’ve been helping them out.”

 

“Yeah…” my gaze drifted to the Minuteman. “They made it difficult to say ‘no’.”

 

Preston shrugged, but it was forced. “Speaking of which…” his voice trailed off and a worried frown replaced it. “How are we going to handle this? We need the Railroad’s help, but we’re already asking a lot from them.”

 

“Help with what?” Glory asked.

 

“The Brotherhood went to Sanctuary”, I replied. “They have an informant there and know I’m working with them. We had one of the Brotherhood Scribes-” 

 

The Railroad soldier nodded. “Haylen.” She motioned at Preston and MacCready. “They brought us up to speed.”

 

Right. “They took her and want the people there to report the next time I’m in the settlement.”

 

She frowned. “That seems like overkill. If they have an informant, they don’t need anyone else to give them that info.”

 

“Yeah.” MacCready nodded. “They probably wanted to send the message anyone who didn’t cooperate would be considered an enemy of the Brotherhood. If their informant reports back and no one else in Sanctuary does, they give themselves a reason to come after us.”

 

That summed up the situation pretty well. There’s still something I’m missing. Why would the Brotherhood take that long to come after her? She’d been there for a week, if they were worried about her defecting, they should have been there as soon as she arrived. Or, if they were determined to avoid a fight, come while I was out on my ill-conceived recon sortie. 

 

And why were they avoiding a fight? Is it the same reason they had initiates helping with the manhunt? Where were they diverting their forces to? Did the Institute have something to do with it?

 

My eyes snapped to Glory. If the Institute was up to something, they’d know.

 

Wait until Desdemona and Deacon get back. We need an answer first.

 

“Well, depending on what Dez decides”, the Railroad soldier said, “we should be able to help out with that.” She met my gaze. “I’m interested in hearing about this attack on Quincy though. That’s a hard target, what makes you think you can take it down?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Why would that be the first thing you take down?”

 

That’s an easy one. “Optics. I’ve done cursory recon of the town, it’s doable with the right strategy, and the right team.”

 

Glory grunted. “You’re asking us to take on a lot of risk for the first op.”

 

I shook my head. “No, I’m not. I’m taking most of it, I just need support.”

 

This time both of her eyebrows went up. “Just need support, huh?” A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. “You sure talk a big game.”

 

While I’m finding I’m utterly inept at most things, fighting is one thing I know how to do. I’m good at it. I’m also finding I don’t like it when people who have never fought with me question my abilities. “I know what I’m doing.”

 

Before she could respond, a voice echoed from the far side of the room. “Glory!” We all turned to look. It was Desdemona. She was waving the Railroad soldier over.

 

The white-haired woman glanced at me, eyes narrowed, and began toward the Railroad commander.

 

“You suck at that”, Cass said as soon as she was out of earshot.

 

“People keep telling me”, I muttered.

 

“Just saying.” She and Tommy joined the two other men at the table. “So how do you all know each other?”

 

Preston chuckled. It was a little nervous, he was probably still thinking about Sanctuary, but it sounded genuine enough. “That’s an interesting story. See, Damon ran into us in Concord when we were being attacked by some Raiders. It was a few weeks after Quincy. He fought them off and helped us get to Sanctuary.” He huffed. “And then fought off another attack there.”

 

The teenage girl looked at me. “Make a habit of finding people in trouble?”

 

“I needed help and a place to recover from some injuries. They offered both.”

 

She exchanged a glance with Preston. “Okay… So what happened after- well, after that night?”

 

The night I stabbed you in the back? “I spent a week recovering, then started doing what I was trained to do: disrupt operations. The Brotherhood is the primary threat, but I was working on a way to hit the Institute when a Synth fell into my lap. Ended up having to fight both the Institute and Brotherhood. I lured them both to a hideout I’d rigged to blow.” I motioned to Preston. “That’s when I got tied up with them.”

 

Cass frowned. “Recover from what?”

 

She wouldn’t know. “The Railroad had the church wired to cover their escape. When I left, the Institute ambushed me and forced me back inside when it blew. Took me two days to crawl out.”

 

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

 

“Not your fault.”

 

“Right…” she trailed off. The last thing I need is her feeling bad for me. It isn’t like she betrayed me. “Hey, uh, have you seen Nate after that? I mean”, Cass chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “I mean I know he kinda lost it there, but it seemed like something else was going on.”

 

“Yes. Nate was involved in trying to recover the Synth I captured.”

 

Her eyes shot wide. “Is- is he okay? You didn’t-”

 

“No”, I interjected, shaking my head. “He’s alive.”

 

The girl let out a relieved sigh. 

 

Why? Nate had wanted me to wipe out the Railroad. Even after I said I was done, he tried to force me to do it. But she was still concerned about him. She was worried I’d killed him and now, knowing he’s still alive, she was happy about it. Shouldn’t she be angry at him for what he did, or what he tried to do? 

 

And that drew my mind back to the same question I’ve been asking: why would she trust me after that, even if I did make the right decision in the end?

 

“Cass-” it wasn’t just Cass, it was Tommy and Preston too. They all trust me.

 

I looked around the table. “Why do any of you trust me?”

 

Silence greeted the question as the four of them exchanged a series of glances, all of them, including MacCready, looking very confused.

 

“Uh…” Preston said after several seconds of awkward silence. “That came out of the blue. Is that supposed to be… I don’t know, is that a trick question?”

 

It was my turn to be confused. “No… After what I did, what reason have I given you to trust me?”

 

Cass dropped her elbows on the table with a loud thud and buried her head in her hands. “You’re hopeless”, she said into them.

 

The Minuteman started laughing, this time it was a lot less uncomfortable. Tommy, for his part, still looked confused, and even MacCready was grinning at me. I felt several pairs of eyes fix on us from around the room.

 

Considering their responses, I know enough about social interactions to know asking why they trust me was a stupid thing to do, the problem is I don’t know why it’s stupid. Wondering why they trust me seems like a perfectly valid concern, especially after recent events.

 

“Damon”, Preston said during a brief pause in his laughter, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, I know you’re being serious but c’mon.” 

 

The laughing resumed and it was several seconds before he could continue. He calmed enough to meet my gaze, and while I could tell he was trying to be serious, he was still smiling like an idiot. “Why do you think we might trust you?”

 

“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew the answer”, I growled.

 

Preston exchanged glances with everyone at the table until he settled on Cass. “Do you want to say it?”

 

“You think it would make it through whatever that helmet is made out of?” she said.

 

He shrugged. “Bullets don’t so probably not.”

 

The teenage girl rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ll give it a try.”

 

What the hell is going on here?

 

Cass met my gaze, her eyes suddenly serious. “You saved us, Damon. If it weren’t for you, me Tommy, and Julian would have been-” she shuddered. “We would have been eaten . You tried to keep us safe and, from what Nate told us once we got to the church, fought through an ambush that should have killed you to get Julian back, even if that didn’t happen. He also told us how much you want to get Juliana back.” The teenager looked at Preston. “It sounds like Sanctuary owes you a lot too.”

 

“Yeah”, the Minuteman said, nodding. “If you hadn’t shown up in Concord, we weren’t making it out of there, let alone to Sanctuary. We wouldn’t have the safe home we do now, we wouldn’t have the network, we wouldn’t be restarting the Minutemen, the Finches wouldn’t have Jake, the Forged would still be terrorizing that area, and we wouldn’t have a chance with what’s going on right now. That’s just the stuff I know of, Damon. Considering how long you’ve been here, and how much time you’ve spent away from Sanctuary, who knows who else you’ve helped.” He smiled, and this time it wasn’t mocking. “You’re an honest guy and despite how difficult you are, and how bad you are with people, you give a damn. That isn’t something I can say about most people. I know you beat yourself up about some of the things you’ve done wrong, but if you’re gonna do that, you have to take credit for the things you’ve done right too.”

 

Things I’ve done right? I played back the events the two of them referenced. Yeah, all of those things happened but…

 

But what? Is anything they’ve said wrong? Things would be very different if I weren’t here.

 

None of those things were especially difficult though. None of them were beyond what I’d normally do.

 

Are they?

 

Yes. They are. Before I came here I wouldn’t have cared enough to do most of them. I did them because I wanted to. Even before the Railroad.

 

I did them because I wanted to…

 

“Now, I know what you’re gonna say Damon: it’s my job”, Preston continued, “but that doesn’t matter when it comes down to it. It’s still stuff you did, and none of the people at this table would be here without you.” He reached over and slapped my forearm. “So take some goddamn credit for once. It might help with your problem.”

 

Problem? “What problem?”

 

His grin turned mocking again. “Being an absolute pain in the ass .”

 

The four of them, including Tommy, erupted in laughter. Despite the joke being made at my expense, I found myself smiling too. 

 

They trust me, and there’s a reason they trust me. “I know you beat yourself up about some of the things you’ve done wrong, but if you’re gonna do that, you have to take credit for the things you’ve done right too.” I’ve helped people. Even with how much I’ve screwed up since coming here, I’ve helped people.

 

My smile grew ever so slightly.

 

And that felt good .

 

While I wouldn’t say I was content, there were still questions about their trust, it was good to know they do trust me. 

 

“Hey”, Cass said as they began calming down, “can I ask you something?” Her tone was more serious than I expected, or at least more than the very recent laughter made me think. I nodded. “Is that why you never found us? You were afraid we didn’t want you around anymore?”

 

“Yes”, I replied.

 

Her face fell. “Oh… that’s- I-”

 

Was she going to apologize? “It isn’t your fault.” I shook my head. “The best place for me after what happened was alone.”

 

Everyone at the table frowned in unison. I almost laughed.

 

“What do you mean?” Preston asked.

 

He knows what I mean. “What I told you when I came back to Sanctuary.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow. “That bullshit about you being afraid of hurting someone?” He huffed. “That sounds just as bad then as it does now.”

 

It doesn’t matter if it sounds bad, that was still the right decision at the time. 

 

Now though… 

 

Despite how aggravating Preston essentially forcing me to join them was, it’s a good thing I had. 

 

And not just for them.

 

“Well you’re here now”, Cass interjected. She looked down at the young boy beside her. “And we’re both happy you are.”

 

Tommy nodded enthusiastically.

 

Before anyone else could say anything, Desdemona returned with Glory and Deacon in tow.

 

The Railroad leader stopped beside me. “We’re undecided.”

 

As much as that isn’t what I wanted to hear, I wasn’t surprised.

 

Preston, on the other hand, wasn’t happy about it.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked, standing. “What are you going to do when things get bad? You know you don’t have enough people.”

 

Desdemona nodded. “Oh we know that, but you’re still an unknown quantity. As far as I see, there are a few problems: you don’t have experience in covert operations, you need training and equipment”, She looked up at me, “and a lot of this, according to Deacon, is riding on you .”

 

All of those were certainly true.

 

“Weren’t you going to supply us with weapons and equipment from Dr. Li’s group anyway?” the Minuteman asked.

 

“Yes, but that will take time.”

 

“But-”

 

I waved Preston’s protest away. This isn’t going to work; Desdemona’s right, and there’s no way to argue around that. They need to see they’re going to get an immediate benefit from this arrangement.

 

“Send a squad with me to take Quincy back.”

 

Desdemona cocked an eyebrow at me. “A squad?”

 

“Yes”, I nodded. “Five people, long-range weapons.”

 

There wasn’t an immediate response. Instead, the Railroad commander held my gaze, maybe trying to gauge me through the opaque visor. It was something I’ve run into a few times with brass in the UNSC, people trying to stand up to the big bad SPARTANs. 

 

This wasn’t exactly the same. She quite clearly wasn’t trying to prove anything. I’m offering something that, to someone who’s never seen me fight, sounds ridiculous. Quincy is a well-fortified position with a large contingent of Gunners. Against most small contingents like the one I’m suggesting, they’d be more than enough.

 

But… well… These people haven’t seen a SPARTAN fight before. The only one here who has is Preston and that was mostly on one arm. 

 

“I want to get two things clear before I commit any of my people to this”, Desdemona said. “First, you can guarantee none of them will be in a direct line of fire?” I nodded. “Second, you have a way to keep the Gunners from tracing this back to us.”

 

“They won’t see anyone but me.”

 

The woman leaned back in her seat and exchanged a glance with Glory. “What do you think? It would be your op.”

 

Her op? I cocked an eyebrow behind my helmet. It’s possible she’s referring to the command of any Railroad personnel who accompany me… but I doubted it.

 

Even so, I kept my mouth shut. This isn’t the time for arguments, I need their cooperation. That’s something I can figure out later.

 

“I mean, any time I get the chance to put some bastards like them in the ground I’ll take it.” The white-haired soldier looked up at me. “How confident are you we can do this?”

 

“100 percent.”

 

Everyone within earshot looked at me. Even Preston and Cass frowned incredulously. 

 

“A hundred?” the Minuteman asked. “That seems a bit much… even for you.”

 

With the number of people in Quincy and its position in the city, it was asking to get hit. The added bonus of fighting people barely better than the average 15-year-old was overkill.

 

“We can do it. If you want me to show you why, give me Glory, one other field agent, and a day.”

 

The Railroad soldier squinted at me. “Why?”

 

“Field trip.” I cocked my head at her. “You’re competent in covert recon aren’t you?”

 

She sneered. “Had your head in the sight of my rifle the first time we met.” She hefted the large weapon slung over her shoulder.

 

You say that like it’s a surprise, or as though that were reconnaissance. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

 

“I-”

 

Deacon stepped forward. “Before we go any further with this.” He turned to Desdemona. “Dez, I saw what happened when the Brotherhood hit them in Diamond City. I don’t know if Quincy’s a definite yes, but I don’t wanna sell him short. Let’s see what he wants us to see, then we can make our decision.”

 

“Uh-huh.” The Railroad leader was still watching me, eyes fixed on my visor. “Glory, who do you want to take?”

 

“I’ll go”, Deacon said before she could respond.

 

That tore Desdemona’s gaze away from me. “You seem a lot more invested in this than normal.”

 

He nodded. “I am.”

 

Silence bloomed over the group as the two of them watched each other, both equally unreadable. There was history between them. I have no clue what that might be, but whatever it was, it ran deep.

 

“Glory, are you okay with that?” the dark-haired woman asked after almost a minute of quiet.

 

She didn’t look happy about it, but the soldier nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

 

Desdemona turned back to me. “You have your two people and one day.”

 

Good. That should be more than enough time to do this. 

 

“Do you have night vision?”

 

Glory nodded. “We have a few sets.”

 

X

 

I already knew Deacon was adept at moving quietly. Glory wasn’t quite as polished but she was passable. The journey took most of the day and, by the time we’d covered the almost 30-kilometer route, the sky was beginning to burn a bright orange. We stopped in the half dozen klick wide track of wilderness that separated the town from Boston proper to let evening fade into night. 

 

After establishing the area around us was clear, both Railroad members retrieved food from their packs and began eating. The first few minutes were spent in silence but, eventually, with at least a kilometer between us and the nearest potential hostiles, the conversations inevitably started. To their credit, the two kept it quiet. 

 

While they didn’t include me, for the most part, I did listen in on what they were saying. Both were smart enough to avoid talking about anything sensitive. Most of it was speculation on what we would find once we got to Quincy. I got the impression they were doing it on purpose.

 

It wasn’t until I began tuning them out Deacon turned to me. “So let’s say this works. Let’s say we put a plan together to take down Quincy, we get rid of the Gunners, and the Minutemen restart. I’m sure you’ve thought about what that means for Sanctuary and the rest of the people who would be under that banner.”

 

The concerns weren’t at the top of my list, but I had considered them. The Minutemen re-emerging in the middle of this war would be attention-grabbing enough. This assault would get tied to me soon enough. That not only means the Gunners will want payback on the Minutemen for this, but everyone will know I’m associated with them. There are enough people around the Commonwealth who know me for that to be a problem. The Institute and Brotherhood already know; so will Diamond City, Goodneighbor, the Gunners, Kleo, and everyone else after this. 

 

We’d planned for that to happen which would, hopefully, convince more small settlements to join. We also have to consider the opposite. 

 

There will be people coming after their network, and we have to be prepared for that.

 

“Consolidating some of the outlying settlements will be necessary. If this works, our best option is to keep pushing, especially the Gunners.”

 

Deacon smiled. “The best defense is a good offense.”

 

“And if you want to keep those settlements out of the line of fire, reputation can go a long way”, Glory said through a bite of some sort of bar. “If people think they can’t win or are scared of what might happen if they attack, they won’t.” 

 

I nodded. That’s why during some of the ‘negotiations’ I was privy to, UNSC representatives would discuss alternatives which generally included a lot of shooting. There were a half dozen times during the almost year I spent in Fourier’s squad we were brought into the negotiations as ‘security personnel’. No one brings a squad of goddamn SPARTANs for security. 

 

A few groups wouldn’t be driven off that easily, namely the Brotherhood and Raiders. The Brotherhood is oddly adverse to engaging Sanctuary. It’s possible that’s because they’re growing more aware it would be unsustainable to fight against the entire Commonwealth. Maybe they know a massive Raider force is moving down from the north. Those are things I need to figure out, and soon.

 

Then there’s the Gunners. They’ll want blood, but one thing we have working in our favor is the settlements within the soon-to-be Minuteman network aren’t well known. That will buy us some time. Mercenaries aren’t high on my list, but the Gunners are worse than most. Hell, they’re barely better than the Raiders, and that might be giving them too much credit.

 

Long story short, I don’t mind dealing with them.

 

“That’s one of the things we need the Railroad for: training and support.”

 

Deacon pulled a mouthful of water from his canteen and nodded. “I’ve had a few thoughts about that, but I’ll wait until after whatever happens here happens to say too much.”

 

“Right”, Glory said, rolling her eyes. “You have thoughts about everything , Deak.”

 

“I wouldn’t be the agent I am today if that wasn’t the case.” The smirk on his face was odd, like it was some sort of inside joke.

 

Apparently it was because the Railroad soldier groaned. “Don’t remind me.” She turned back to me. “Tell me something tin can. You’re awfully sure about this. Why?”

 

“I’ve run similar ops before.”

 

She cocked an eyebrow at me. “Deak, how many people would you say the Gunners have here?”

 

He shrugged. “Haven’t looked for a few months. Maybe 120?”

 

“Uh-huh. So 120 people against the six of us?”

 

120 poorly trained people, yes. “I’ve had worse odds. All you’ll need to do is worry about overwatch, I’ll take care of the rest.”

 

That didn’t seem to placate her. If anything, the soldier looked agitated. “Well I’m wondering now. If you didn’t have a sudden change of heart back at the church, what would have happened?”

 

My eyes narrowed behind my visor. “Are you asking if I would have wiped the Railroad out?”

 

“Do you need me to get you a neon sign?”

 

Where is she going with this? “Would the answer make you more comfortable?”

 

She shrugged. “It depends on what the answer is.”

 

“Anything can happen in a fight but yes, I’m confident I would have won.”

 

Glory didn’t reply. Instead, she continued staring at me as she took another bite of her meal bar. 

 

“We might have surprised you”, Deacon interjected. The statement was clearly a bit of sarcasm, but considering what I know about them, I have no doubt there would have been surprises in store. 

 

In fact, I’d been expecting it. 

 

The white-haired soldier cleared her throat after she’d swallowed. “We’ll see how good you are then.”

 

From then on, we waited for the sky to darken in silence. It was another hour until it had faded from orange, to red, to dark blue, then finally to black. By then I was tired of waiting.

 

Leading the other two toward our target, I was careful to take an easy-to-follow path. The last thing I need is one of them hitting any bushes or stepping on the multitude of fallen leaves and branches. They did have NVS, but they looked antiquated to the point they belonged in a museum. At least for me. They were probably on par with whatever the Brotherhood was using.

 

It only took another 10 minutes before the sounds of talking drifted to us through the forest. Not long after that, the first row of squat, patchwork buildings came into view, light spilling out from within both the perimeter and the buildings themselves. 

 

Just like everything else around here, the buildings had been the victim of the nuclear blast and centuries of decay. However, as I noticed on my first go around here, they’d been ‘repaired’ with whatever material the Gunners could get their hands on. On top of that, they’d constructed a fence not dissimilar to the one around Sanctuary. The primary difference was, while that one was solid with dedicated firing positions, this one was slotted, so it was less about stopping bullets and more about stopping people. 

 

I kept us well hidden in the surrounding forest as we skirted the town’s perimeter. The trees thinned as they neared it, with the last dozen meters open ground. It didn’t appear as though anyone had cut the trees closer to the settlement down, so the Gunners lucked into a halfway decent location.

 

The talking 

 

Same as the last time I was here, I noted the patrolling Gunners walking their perimeter within the walls. While it didn’t provide the same protection as Sanctuary’s, that was one benefit this style of defense had: there are no dedicated watch positions. That makes predicting patrols and lookouts more difficult.

 

Waving for the others to stop as we reached the west side of the town, I pointed up at the freeway overlooking Quincy. It was impossible to see how, exactly, they were set up, but I could see two mounted gun emplacements, their barrels sticking over the edge. It might have been an amateur mistake, or they might be convinced someone would infiltrate the town. If that’s the case, those are meant to be able to fire down on whoever had.

 

“What’s the easiest way to get up there?” Glory whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

 

“On-ramp half a kilometer west.”

 

“I don’t see anything else here we weren’t already aware of, we should take a look at that.”

 

I nodded and we began toward the freeway access. It had patrols stationed at it the last time I looked, but it wasn’t as heavily guarded as it should have been. I guess it’s possible they had countermeasures on the freeway as well… Only one way to find out.

 

It was 10 minutes to get to the on-ramp, going slow to make sure no one spotted us. 

 

Sure enough, there were five Gunners positioned at the freeway entrance. Several rusting hulks had been dragged to the bottom of the ramp. It wasn’t a bad idea; they acted as cover and blockage for any attacking force. There were a half dozen exploitable approaches underneath the on-ramp and in the surrounding fields that weren’t covered. 

 

“Alright”, Deacon whispered. “I think we get the idea.” I glanced at the Railroad agent. He was watching the Gunners idle behind their cover. “Want to run us through your plan now?”

 

I motioned to the west and we left the area, following the raised freeway. Or what was left of it. Glory was studying it as we went, probably looking for another point of egress. The only other on-ramp in this area was a klick away and there were a dozen breaks in the roadway between it and our target. 

 

“That looks just as difficult to hit as we thought”, the woman said as we stopped half an hour later. “Well fortified position, good vantage from the freeway, which is a hard to take position on its own.” She raised her goggles and rubbed her eyes. “So please, enlighten us on your plan.”

 

“We need the overwatch position. Once we have that, forces in the town will be easy to deal with.” There were three ways to get there: climb, walk, or drop. Since we don’t have aircraft, drop is out. A climb to that position would make it easier to avoid making noise before we wanted to. It meant whoever took the overwatch position would also have to look out for a counterattack. Walking, heading up the on-ramp, would be the most straightforward, but it would have the longest time between initial engagement and getting in position. Conventional wisdom says you take the high ground before engaging, but if the goal is to do this while minimizing the risk to Railroad personnel…

 

“Do you have any grappling devices?”

 

She frowned. “I… probably. You want us to rope up to the freeway? What about their rear guard? And how do we do that unnoticed?”

 

Kneeling, I ran a finger through the loose dirt, sketching a rough outline of the town. “I create a diversion here”, I pointed to the southwest corner of town, “while you grapple here, “I pointed to the northeast corner of the freeway. That section had collapsed, so the Gunners hadn’t been guarding it. “Eliminate their overwatch, position two of your people to cover me, the other three prepare an ambush for the rear guard. Don’t move too far from the lookout position, they may have counter-intrusion traps set in case anyone gets past their people on the on-ramp.”

 

Glory cocked an eyebrow at me. “Thought you said we’d do this without us taking any risk. If we do have any grapples, they’re steel hooks. That ain’t gonna be silent when they hit.”

 

“You time your grapple with my diversion.”

 

“Which is?” she asked, voice incredulous. 

 

“Explosives.” A lot of them.

 

This time the soldier smiled. “Can’t argue with explosions. That still doesn’t solve the issue with us being in the line of fire while we take that position.”

 

There’s a way around that… I pointed at her sniper. “If I can have my rifle back, I’ll solve that. Or at least make it more manageable.” 

 

It was Deacon’s turn to be incredulous. “So what you’re saying is you’re going to both detonate charges around their perimeter to act as a diversion for the climb and pick off their overwatch.” I couldn’t see his expression with the large NVS goggles in the way, but he didn’t seem convinced. “How far is it from the edge of the forest to the overpass?”

 

“Uh…” Glory looked back toward the town which was now lost in the four kilometers of forest. “Probably 400 yards, plus elevation.”

 

“Okay”, the agent said, nodding, “that’s not too bad.” He looked down at the crude drawing in the dirt. “You’re putting a lot of this on yourself.”

 

“It’s my plan, and we haven’t gotten to the hard part yet.”

 

“Clearing the place out”, Glory said.

 

It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway. “After you’ve taken the overwatch position, and deal with the rear guard, you’ll need to take out the guards in this area”, I drew a circle around the center of town, “quickly so I can infiltrate and put pressure on them. If you don’t, they regroup and start shooting back at you.” Drawing an arrow to the west I said, “then we proceed with a sweep and clear.”

 

The two Railroad members shared a glance. “So you’re counting on capturing their attention until we’ve either killed all of them or enough they surrender or run”, Deacon said.

 

“Yes.”

 

“How do you plan to do that? You can’t be everywhere at once, and it won’t take them long to figure out we’re in their overwatch.”

 

A smile crept across my face. “Creating chaos is my specialty.” I looked at Glory. “It sounds like you’re a fan of bombs.” Her eyes narrowed but she nodded. I drew a half dozen lines from the overwatch position on the overpass. “Start throwing. I’ll detonate the ones I plant as diversions in stages, and the ones you use will be on timers.”

 

My smile was contagious, apparently, because the white-haired soldier smirked too. “Not gonna complain about that.”

 

Deacon cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt this little bonding moment, but do we care about collateral damage?”

 

I shook my head. “We don’t want the town back, it’s too far away from our current base. This is to send a message.”

 

There was a moment’s hesitation as the agent looked back down at my sketch. Then he chuckled. “Fair enough. I think there are a few things we’ll need to hammer out, but we can do that once we get back to base. For now, I’ll say I’m in.” He met Glory’s gaze. “What about you?”

 

The Railroad soldier bit her lower lip, looking from Deacon, down to the drawing, and then up to me.

 

“You really think you’re good enough to pull this off?”

 

Again, I may be utterly inept at a lot of things but this? It’s one thing I know I’m good at. 

 

“Yes.”

 

“Alright”, she said, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

 

X

 

It was around 0100 when we returned from Quincy. With the tentative cooperation from the two Railroad members, we needed to come up with a strategy that would get Desdemona on board. Unsurprisingly, she was still awake along with a dozen other Railroad members, Cass, Preston, and MacCready. Once Deacon had filled her in on the rough outline I’d given them, she almost seemed amused.

 

“Throw enough explosives at something and it’ll solve any problem.”

 

Not sure it’ll solve the problem, but that problem will no longer be present.

 

“I have one condition before agreeing to this”, she continued.

 

“Which is?”

 

The Railroad leader motioned to MacCready. “You take six including him. In a… show of good faith, I’ve agreed to lend Preston two of our counter-intelligence people to flush out your informants. They’ll head back to Sanctuary with him tomorrow morning.”

 

Wow. That’s… unexpected. “I appreciate that.”

 

“Yes, well, the people of Sanctuary didn’t try to kill us.”

 

“Yes, well, neither did I.”

 

Desdemona smirked. “Ah, so you do have a sense of humor.”

 

Preston pounded a fist on my left pauldron. “Don’t give him too much credit. We’re still working on that.”

 

“Of course”, she said, “I can imagine that’s quite the undertaking.” The woman looked at Glory and Deacon, “are you two okay to work through a strategy?” The two of them nodded in unison. “Good. Everyone else, get some shut-eye. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

 

Most of the other Railroad members dispersed, leaving the four of us along with Preston and MacCready.

 

“Hey”, Cass’ voice came from behind me. “Mind if I join?”

 

She stopped beside me. 

 

Glory frowned at her. “Don’t you have watch with Higgins tomorrow?”

 

“That isn’t until the afternoon. I’ll get plenty of sleep.”

 

“Is that so?” the soldier asked, eyebrow cocked. “So it sounds like you’ll have time for some PT tomorrow morning then too.” To her credit, Cass only shrugged. “Alright, I don’t wanna hear about it when you feel like puking.”

 

Desdemona waved us toward a large table next to their computer stations. This wasn’t the first time they'd prepared a briefing because, as we gathered around, she pulled a box of worn markers from beneath it. “Let’s get started.”

 

After organizing them into the rough shape of the town, we began discussing the proposed operation. If I was being honest with myself, it was exciting. While these people weren’t experts, they were clearly experienced in covert operations, and ambush tactics. I didn’t have to spend the hours I had with the Institute walking them through the basics of combat. No offense to Preston and his people, but they weren’t much better.

 

Instead of working through why it was important to strike from both the south side and the freeway simultaneously, we were able to discuss how we wanted to do that. Instead of explaining the intricacies of overwatch positions, we mapped my pathing through the town. We were able to talk our way through bomb placement, timing, strike coordination on their watch positions, and everything else that went into this operation. It sort of felt like I was back on a prowler with my handler and intel officers, discussing an upcoming mission. 

 

We even came up with a few contingencies depending on how the Gunners reacted. Attack responses usually fell into three categories: stand and fight, retreat and regroup, or scorched earth. Since the Gunners are mercenaries, the third one was unlikely. Most well-disciplined forces would use a combination of the first two: use delay tactics to slow your enemy’s advance while organizing a counter-offensive.

 

While I may not be the same person, there’s comfort in routine.

 

By the time the clock in my HUD rolled over to 0330, we were satisfied with our plan. Glory had identified the personnel she wanted to bring and, much to Cass’ chagrin, she denied the teenager’s request to come along.

 

“This isn’t training, this isn’t watch”, she said. “We’re assaulting an entrenched enemy position with limited”, the white-haired woman looked at me, “people. As much as I hate saying it, there will be plenty of opportunities for you to get in on the action.”

 

The teenager wasn’t looking at Glory, she was watching me. 

 

“I take it I can’t complain enough for you to change your mind?” she asked. 

 

“No”, the Railroad soldier replied, shaking her head. There was a small smile on her face. 

 

Cass didn’t respond immediately. She was still looking up at me. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but whatever it was, the girl looked extremely unhappy.

 

“Fine”, she relented and walked toward a door in the back of the cavernous room.

 

Glory huffed. “I think she wants to fight with you .”

 

That’s definitely a possibility. “I’m sure there will be more chances.”

 

Her eyes fell on me. “I hope not.” She didn’t need to explain the rest of that statement. Wherever I was, things would be dangerous, more so than an average engagement. If Cass ever has to fight with me, that means something went wrong.

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Dez yawned, stepping away from the table. “Well, I think getting a bit of sleep would be a great idea.” She turned to Preston. “Victor and Able will meet up with you at 7:30, so I’d recommend you get some rest too.”

 

The Minuteman nodded. “Agreed.”

 

As the others began dispersing, Glory waved to me. “Damon, come with me.”

 

She led me to the same door Cass and disappeared through. On the other side was a store room that was almost as large as the main area we’d just left. There was everything from supplies to clothes to weapons, all either neatly stacked or arranged on racks. 

 

Glory continued toward the area they had weapons stored and hefted the McMillan- my McMillan. “Don’t disappoint me, tin can.”

 

I smiled. “I’ll do my best.” With the rifle, she handed me three spare magazines and 40 rounds of ammunition. It was more than I’d need for this mission, but I wasn’t about to turn it down. 

 

“I’m gonna go watch the inside of my eyelids, feel free to do the same.”

 

“Understood.”

 

With that, the woman departed. 

 

Now I have three rifles. It wasn’t a problem I was going to complain about, but I don’t think I need that many at the moment. I unslung the HK-33 and stowed it in the now empty spot on the rack that the McMillan had occupied. 

 

Just as I was turning to leave, footsteps approached from the other side of the storeroom. I saw Cass stalking toward me, eyes burning . It didn’t look like she was upset with me though. Maybe Glory had been right, maybe she wanted to be in a fight with me. I can understand that, she’s been stuck here for the past month.

 

But that fire looked a little too familiar. It’s definitely possible something else was on her mind.

 

Cass didn’t say a word as she stopped at the weapons rack and pulled a bolt action rifle from its place. The weapon looked like the same model several of the settlers at Sanctuary carried. It was simple but the rifle fired 7.62X51mm rounds. Not the same punch as my MK18 and definitely not as powerful as the McMillan, but it would drop almost anything short of power armor. 

 

Rifle in hand, she marched back into the main room. She wasn’t going to go out, was she? The girl might be upset but she’s smart. 

 

Even so, I followed her out of the store room. 

 

She sat at one of the tables and began disassembling the rifle. Cass clearly knew the weapon well, but her movements were sharp and rough. I’m no expert at reading people, but I do know fighting and weapons. Someone who’s as obviously practiced as her stays smooth and steady. She’s more upset about this than I thought.

 

My eyes roamed the massive room until I found a steel crate that would probably hold my weight. Retrieving it, I carried the impromptu seat and my returned sniper rifle to the same table and placed the crate beside it.

 

Cass didn’t look up as I set the McMillan and MK18 on the table and began stripping the large caliber rifle. She already had the trigger group out and was working on the pins to remove her rifle’s receiver.

 

Her hands were trembling.

 

It took her the better part of a minute to get the three pins and one bolt out. By then I had the McMillan disassembled.

 

“What?” she snapped as she finally pulled the receiver from the stock. “Are you gonna try to give me a pep talk?”

 

I shook my head. “I’m bad at that.”

 

“What then?” She dropped the wooden stock onto the table. “Why are you here?”

 

Why am I here? I’m here… because she’s upset. Yeah, but what am I going to do about that? And why is it any of my business if she’s upset? She wants to fight. That’s something, I of all people, can understand.

 

So what’s the problem?

 

Her eyes snapped to me, that same fire raging in them.

 

“I’m pissed off I’m stuck here walking patrols and waiting , okay? There are too many things going on out there for me to be sitting around all day.” 

 

It wasn’t hard to guess what she was talking about. Between the threats to the Railroad, and Julian still being with the Brotherhood, I can’t help but understand why she was upset.

 

Especially considering what she’s been through.

 

“And now you finally get back, and you’re taking off a day later with Glory and the others to do something about it. And what am I gonna do? Sit on my ass and wait .” She set the receiver down a bit more carefully than the stock. “It’s all I’ve ever done: sit around and wait for other people to do things.”

 

Ah, so that’s it: she felt helpless. She and her adopted brothers have been at other people’s whims since the Supermutants destroyed their home. I can understand why she’d be tired of that. I know I would be.

 

“If you’re going to be risking your life for us, to convince Dez to join the Minutemen, to help fight against the Brotherhood and the bad parts of the Institute, how am I supposed to sit here and do nothing?” Cass looked down at her disassembled rifle. “Why do other people keep putting themselves in danger for me?” When she looked back up at me, the fire was joined by the glassy film of tears. “Why do you keep risking your life for me?”

 

Why do I keep risking my life for her? With the Brotherhood, then when I refused to carry out Nate and Shaun’s plan, and now trying to pull these groups together? Admittedly, I wasn’t doing that last one just for her, but I’d be lying if I said her, Julian, and Tommy weren’t the reason I’m here doing it.

 

The answer was easy. I don’t know if I was capable of recognizing it a few months ago but now?

 

“Because I care about you. I care about Julian and Tommy.” I shrugged. “I’m not good at much- or anything - besides fighting, so I’m going to do that.”

 

As I spoke, Cass’ face was a mask of surprise. It shouldn’t be surprising I care about them… why was she-

 

“I don’t understand you, Damon.” The fury in her eyes wasn’t gone, but it had faded.

 

I cocked my head at her. “What do you mean?”

 

“Earlier you seemed so confused about why I would trust you, and then you say that . It’s just-“ she exhaled slowly. “You’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

 

That’s probably a good thing. “Why?”

 

She frowned. “Why would you be confused about how people can trust you when you’re so willing to put yourself in danger for the people you care about?”

 

“I already told you: I fight. It’s what I do.”

 

“So if I care about Tommy and Julian and you and- and everyone here, how can I do any less?”

 

Memories came to mind, memories of my parents. It wasn’t the Covenant attack, it was when things were normal, peaceful. My dad cooking dinner while I sat at the counter with my sister. We were laughing about something. My mom cleaning me after I’d taken a bad fall, scratches and cuts covering my right arm and leg. Then there were the Finches, expanding their farm and taking people in, building a place people could come if they needed help. Sanctuary and the people there making a home .

 

How could she expect anything less?

 

“There are other ways to care for people. Not everyone needs to fight- not everyone should fight. If you end up doing it, that’s fine, but don’t think that’s the only way you can.” I shrugged again. “That’s just the only way I know how to.”

 

Cass watched me for a few heartbeats before turning back to her disassembled rifle. “You really think that?”

 

“I do.”

 

She grunted. “Then I think you should take your own advice.”

 

Take my own advice? “How so?”

 

The teenager began slipping the weapon back together. “You do more than fight.” She glanced up at me. “I was awake that night on the Prydwen when you were talking with Julian. You’re honest, even if you’re about as clueless as anyone I’ve ever met.”

 

When I talked with Julian. The young boy was scared and lost. I hadn’t done anything extraordinary, just what I thought was the right thing at the time. Nate, and apparently Cass, think it was significant. 

 

Another smile slipped across my face. 

 

If anything it was the same as what Cass did earlier when I’d asked about her trust. The same as what she was doing now. 

 

“I’m not the only one.”

 

Even though she couldn’t see my smile, she returned it with one of her own. “Maybe. I’m not as thick as you though.”

 

“Most people aren’t.”

 

As Cass reassembled her rifle in silence, traces of her aggravation lingered. Her movements were still abrupt, it took her two tries to get the pins for the receiver in correctly, and there was still a spark of that fury in her eyes. I’m not sure that’s a bad thing; nothing’s wrong with a bit of anger. The problems come when someone doesn’t know what to do with it. I’m plenty familiar with that.

 

It was another few minutes before she finished and, by then, she seemed calm.

 

“Thanks”, she said, standing from the table. “I guess I just needed to get that off my chest”, the teenager glanced back at the store room, “to someone besides Tommy who’d listen.”

 

I nodded. “You’re welcome.”

 

With that, Cass left to take her rifle to the weapons rack, leaving me alone with my own. The McMillan had been well cared for in my absence, cleaned, and lubricated. Hell, it looked like the damn thing hadn’t been fired since I last saw it. That actually made sense considering the Railroad’s penchant for laying low. 

 

Busying myself doing the same with the MK18 and handgun, even though I haven’t fired the thing in weeks, my mind replayed the conversation I’d had with Cass. 

 

“Then I think you should take your own advice.”

 

My own advice… She thinks I do more than fight? Yes, I’ve also helped Sanctuary and, to an extent, the Finches prepare defenses, but that’s downstream from fighting. She referred specifically to my ‘conversation’ with Julian. Did I do something there someone else wouldn’t have? 

 

As I pulled the bolt carrier out of the MK18, it was still relatively clean. Whatever ammo Owens had given me, it was high quality.

 

Does it matter if someone else would have done the same thing? I’m still the one who did it, aren’t I? Other people can fight, that doesn’t mean me fighting isn’t significant. 

 

Maybe… So what was significant about what I’d done with Julian?

 

He needed someone to understand him, what he’d just gone through. There may not be many things I’m good at besides fighting, but I do know how he must have felt. 

 

With the MK18 reassembled, I began taking the handgun apart.

 

That’s true. I know from experience there’s a difference between talking with a shrink and talking with someone who knows what you’re feeling. There’s a level of understanding that comes along with experience that, no matter how good a psychologist is, you can’t fake.

 

My weapons clean and reassembled, I didn’t have much else to do until the day began. While going out and exploring the area was enticing, I don’t know their security protocols. That really left sleep as my only option. 

 

With the attack on Quincy, it was going to be a long day. Sleep didn’t sound like a bad idea.

 

As I gathered the guns, my mind drifted back to Cass. To the anger in her eyes. Just because that faded doesn’t mean it’s gone. That fury was the same thing I’ve carried for the last 15 years. 

 

I can’t let it take hold of her. She deserves better than that. But what do I do? Who can I talk to about helping the teenager? Do I even know how to stop it from getting to her? It’s clearly already started: the helplessness, the impatience, the powerlessness. They’re all perfectly justifiable emotions, but how do you stop them from turning into something toxic?

 

I don’t know. But I’m not going to let them do to her what they did to me.

No one was there to hear the promise even if I had given it a voice. That didn’t matter. The only thing that does is that I make good on it.

Chapter 51: Preparations

Notes:

Well hi there. It's... been a while. Sorry about that. I don't really have an excuse besides laziness. But we're back and I'm going to try to be as consistent as possible posting chapters. :)

Shortly after Preston left with the two Railroad counter-intel agents, we were preparing for our journey back to Quincy. Glory, Charlie, Deacon, MacCready, and two other Railroad soldiers were double-checking their equipment. Their grapples were pneumatically launched with an expanding hook and electric winch. They were high quality which shouldn’t have surprised me.

 

Glory was bringing her large caliber rifle and she’d packed a night vision system for the scope. Another operative had their own, and they’d given MacCready a third. The other three had goggles while each carried a satchel loaded with grenades and a few plastic explosives. They’d given me two bricks of the same thing. I’ve seen Insurrectionists use this before… I think it’s called Semtex. Each had a radio detonator and its own individual transmitters.

 

That wouldn’t be enough though.

 

“Where do you plan on meeting us?” Glory asked as she looped her satchel strap over her shoulder.

 

“Same area we stopped last night before getting to Quincy. We’ll stage there before moving to the town.”

 

“You’ll be able to pack enough explosives on your own? You don’t need someone to come with you?”

 

I shook my head. “None of what I have is this big.” I hefted one of the 10-centimeter-long bricks. “And I’m not using that much.”

 

She smiled. “Alright. There’s no such thing as too many explosives.”

 

While I couldn’t necessarily disagree with her, my stash isn’t unlimited. All I have is what I’ve managed to take from the Brotherhood during my raids, and that started drying up as they realized how many resources they were losing. It would be hard to get more unless I hit one of their outposts, and that isn’t something I want to do yet. Not until the Minutemen are better equipped to handle whatever response they send their way.

 

“I’ll bring enough.”

 

“Enough flirting”, Desdemona said. The corner of her mouth was quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. “I talked it over with John, we’ll have a team on standby in case things don’t go to plan.” Her eyes fell on me. “Make sure things go to plan.”

 

That was a welcome change of heart from the Railroad leader. When I proposed this yesterday, I don’t think ‘skeptical’ was a strong enough word. Now she’s willing to put a quick reaction force in the area? 

 

Maybe I’m more convincing than I thought.  

 

Yeah right. What’s more likely is they see the writing on the wall and are looking for a reason to join with a larger force.

 

While I would love for things to go as planned, there's a reason for the saying 'a plan only lasts until first contact.'

 

“Yes ma’am”, I replied with a nod. 

 

Glory nodded as well. “We’ll stay radio-silent unless absolutely necessary.” She smirked. “Give us a call if you can’t find us.”

 

If I can’t find you. Uh-huh.

 

The seven of us left the bunker and, as they began south toward Boston, I broke off and went east. My closest stash of supplies was on the way to Quincy, but it didn’t have any explosives. A safe house I set up to the east, about five klicks north of the airport, had several boxes of charges I’d taken from one of my first caravan raids. I put it there because it would be much easier to get them to the Brotherhood’s main base, instead of having to hump them across the Commonwealth. Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.

 

They’ll be fine. The Railroad has operated for a long time without me. I don’t need to be there to hold their hands.

 

It was about a two-hour detour to get to the safe house. This one was in the back of a storefront. I don't know the name of the small town around it, but most of the buildings were relatively intact. The only issue, and why no one chose to settle there, is most of it was beginning to flood. I don’t know if it was a result of the bomb that had been dropped to the southwest, or if it was natural erosion, but the sea level was high enough I was slogging through ankle-deep water.

 

Radioactive seawater isn’t usually conducive to healthy living conditions. Made for a great hideout.

 

When I first found the place, it had a small band of Supermutants in it. I enjoyed wiping them out. Especially since with its proximity to the airport. No point in using guns and risk drawing the Brotherhood's attention.

 

Pushing the thought of snapping bones and spraying blood out of mind, I slipped into the small building. As I made my way to the back, I was careful to step over the tripwires I had laid beneath the water’s surface. The C4 charges I was after were in three steel crates. It was a lot more than I'd need for this operation. I took eight bricks, each about a quarter the size of the Semtex charges, connected the detonators, and gathered their transmitters. All of it went into another satchel and, for good measure, I grabbed three grenades and a spool of wire. Always useful for setting traps.

 

Five minutes later, I was back out of the town and heading west to put some space between myself and the airport. Last thing I need now is to attract the attention of the Brotherhood. Again . Though… with the McMillan slung across my back, if I do need to take down one of their Vertibirds-

 

How about I get to Quincy and take care of that first? 

 

Right.

 

Morning faded into afternoon as I, for what seemed like the hundredth time, slipped through the forest of sickly-looking trees, brown underbrush, rocky outcroppings, and rolling hills. 

 

On a few occasions, I hunkered down beneath the forest’s canopy, or in the shadows cast by rocks as I heard Vertibirds nearby. Staying away from their regular patrol routes kept the delays to a minimum. It helped that, unlike the last time I was out on my own, I kept my head out of the clouds. 

 

Like we had last night, I skirted around Boston’s suburbs. There was plenty of time to get to Quincy, no reason to risk finding trouble in the city. 

 

My HUD read 1430 when I stopped for a drink. They’d probably reached the rendezvous by now. It would be another hour and a half for me but that’s fine. If they were smart, Deacon and Glory would take the time to show the others what we’d seen last night and walk through the plan with the town in sight. It’s always helpful to see your target before you have to engage.

 

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. Once I got south of the city, it didn’t take me long to reach the rendezvous and find the waiting group.

 

“This seems ambitious”, MacCready whispered as I stopped beside him.

 

So everyone keeps saying… “Stick to the plan.”

 

“Uh-huh. Right. Can you actually do this?”

 

A common misconception in combat is that numbers win fights. To an extent, that’s true, but if a smaller force can break pieces off their larger opposition without taking appreciable losses, they can win that fight. All I need is to keep individual engagements controlled. Granted, any good leader would have contingencies.

 

“Yes.”

 

The former mercenary glared at me for a few heartbeats before grunting. “Alright then… this’ll be an interesting evening.”

 

X

 

Getting close enough to the wall to plant the two Semtex charges was an exercise in patience. Which is to say, for me, frustration. Even with the darkness of night wrapped around me, their patrols were a lot better than the ones the Raiders ran at their base to the north. On top of having a smaller perimeter to guard, they were better organized with overlapping routes. I originally intended to set them on the east and west corners of the town, but that wasn’t going to work. Those areas had both foot patrols and overwatch from the buildings beyond. 

 

Instead, I placed one on the wall just behind a building that was close enough to provide visual cover from both a guard walking their route along it and the freeway above Quincy. The second I reached through the slats in the wall and set it just inside about 50 meters to the west. 

 

Throwing two of the smaller C4 charges into windows after making sure they weren’t occupied, I retreated to about 100 meters, far enough into the trees I’d be shielded from any overpressure from the blasts.

 

With the preparations ready, I laid behind the large sniper rifle I’d left in position and peered through its scope at the overpass. The four Gunners I’d seen earlier were still in the same positions: one on each gun emplacement and two with smaller rifles. I caught glimpses of another two, possibly three guards. There wasn’t much I’d be able to do about those unless they were stupid enough to expose themselves once the fighting started.

 

Even if I despise them, I have to give these people credit: they’re a lot better than most around here.

 

Everything was in place, all I need to do is wait. 

 

My clock read 2113. 

 

Two minutes.

 

The next few seconds were spent switching between my first four targets. I’d take out the dismounted guards first; they didn’t have the heaviest hardware but those two were mobile. I don’t know how thick the armored shields on the emplacements were, but there was no guarantee the Gunners behind them would be at the right angle for me to shoot through the slot. That’s one of the reasons I wanted the McMillan back. Unless that steel is at least two centimeters thick, this would get through.

 

2114.

 

I couldn’t see the others, but by now they should be positioned directly below the east side of the overpass. The Railroad was good at keeping quiet and maintaining a small footprint. This isn’t that. Their job is to make as much chaos as possible. It’s too late to hope they were up to this. They need to be, or things would get very tight very quickly.

 

From what I've seen, the group is good at adapting quickly. They have to be to operate in the world of espionage, or whatever this place's version of it is.

 

2115.

 

No sooner had the clock ticked over than my finger tightened around the McMillan’s trigger. The rifle boomed . My first shot was dead on at 400 meters, the massive projectile turning the Gunner’s head into a cascade of red, tinged slightly orange in my visor’s night vision.

 

Turning the rifle, I chambered a new round before his body had a chance to hit the ground. My next round hit a little low, blowing the top half of the second target’s head into the air. It didn’t matter, he was dead.

 

The first emplacement took a 12.7mm bullet and I watched as a spray of blood exploded from the far side, and the last Gunner was down an instant later. 

 

With the booming report of the fourth shot fading when I hit the detonator for the first brick of semtex-

 

The blast sent a massive cloud of dirt and debris soaring into the sky with a deafening boom that put the McMillan to shame. My teeth rattled in my skull. 

 

Worse than the bang was the boom. 

 

At the same instant the sound washed across the forest, the pressure wave slammed into me. It was hard enough loose dirt and leaves were blown from the trees, filling the forest with a cloud of dust and debris of its own. It was almost impossible to see Quincy. While I hadn’t thought it would be that large, the possibility of having my vision obscured is why I took the overwatch out first.

 

It didn’t take more than a heartbeat for me to decide the other bomb could wait for an emergency.

 

The two smaller C4 charges wouldn’t do that which is probably a good thing.

 

When the first one went off, I was leaping to my feet and starting for the town. That would have been their cue to begin their climb. 

 

By the time I set off the second, I was nearing the wall-

 

Or what was left of it.

 

With my visor working overtime to filter through the dirt scattered in the air, I didn’t see the extent of the damage until I was almost crossing the perimeter. A 20-meter section of the wall was gone and the south face of the building behind had collapsed.

 

Sounds of a gun battle on the overpass above Quincy rained down as I slipped through the hole in their perimeter. There were a handful of bodies scattered around the detonation site, three of the four missing parts. 

 

As soon as I edged around the corner of the now half-collapsed building, I caught sight of six Gunners running toward me. Or, they were running toward the explosion. Their response was slow, which is exactly what I wanted to accomplish with the other two, smaller detonations. That being said, a little more chaos wouldn’t be a bad idea.

 

The response team registered me just as the MK18 barked a round into the closest mercenary’s head. The second was also missing most of theirs by the time the rest began scrambling for cover in what looked like a rundown grocery store.

 

Slipping back behind the building, I pulled another C4 charge and its detonator from my satchel and hurled it at the squad’s cover. It blew and I watched as one body was flung into the air, missing its left leg. The others were scattered as the wall of the small store was turned into shrapnel. While the trauma from the explosion and flying brickwork might have killed them, I still took the time to make sure with a 10mm round for each.

 

Pounding footsteps echoed all around me. The Gunners were clearly prioritizing me over the squad taking the overpass.

 

West to east.

 

With limited ammunition for the MK18 and the close quarters I’d be working in, I kept the handgun out as I skirted the perimeter to the west. 

 

The sounds of shouting ahead alerted me to the squad approaching from the next street. I slid to a stop at the corner of the building. The shouts and pounding footsteps continued forward. Pulling a grenade, I primed it and threw the small explosive toward the approaching group of mercenaries.

 

“GRENADE!” one of them shouted and there was a cacophony of screams an instant before the explosion cut them off. 

 

When I peered around the building, three bodies lay in the street, each with shrapnel wounds. One, a woman, was limping away, dragging her right leg behind her. I put a round in the back of her neck and continued toward the west end of the town. By now, the gunfire from above consisted of lower, louder reports. That probably meant Glory’s team had handled whoever else was up there and was now in their overwatch positions.

 

A pair of Gunners stepped out of an alley between what looked like two apartment buildings ahead of me. I was already at a dead run, so I lowered my shoulder and drove it into the first. The blow sent him tumbling backward and, as I shot the other, gunfire erupted from further down the road.

 

I dropped into a crouch as the spray of bullets careened overhead and I returned fire on the seven defenders. They adjusted their aim and the next mercenary’s burst caught me in the left arm, flaring my shields and throwing off my aim. My first shot connected with one of the Gunner’s necks, but the second and third hit one in the chest, catching on their armor. Even with that one going down, there were still enough guns to drop my shields in a hurry. 

 

After a fourth shot connected, this time with the shoulder of a tall, lanky woman, I dove into the alley beside me, narrowly avoiding another long burst of gunfire. 

 

Once I was out of sight, I heard the squad begin running, but they weren’t heading toward me. It sounded like they were pulling back. Whoever was running this show was probably starting to organize a response. 

 

That’s something I can’t let happen.

 

Grabbing a second grenade from my satchel, I pulled the pin and hurled it over the building to my right, toward the center of town.

 

As it soared through the air, I snatched a discarded combat rifle from the dirt and sprinted down the alley. The grenade went off somewhere behind the next row of buildings as I emerged into the next street. More gunfire exploded from my left but, in the instant I was exposed, all of it missed me. 

 

Bullets continued pouring into the corner of the three-story apartment building I disappeared behind. The brick didn’t hold up under the onslaught, splintering into mulch and peppering the next building with a torrent of shrapnel. I wasn’t there to catch any of it. My armored boots pounded against the broken pavement as I circled the dilapidated structure. Their barrage was just coming to a halt as I slid to a stop at the apartment’s opposite corner.

 

It was the same group that escaped from the wall. The one with the bullet wound in her shoulder was holding it, running toward the mouth of the alley. 

 

My first shot hit her in the left eye. The combat rifle’s impact wasn’t as spectacular as the MK18’s but the back of her head was still turned into a large hole. 

 

As her body tumbled to the ground, I sighted on the next Gunner and fired. 

 

The shot missed.

 

The entire group had shifted at the same time, heading north up the street, and out of my line of sight. They’re better drilled than I gave them credit for. 

 

I adjusted my aim in time to catch one more, but the other four were gone.

 

No time to waste on a small group; there were still over a hundred to deal with. 

 

The boom of large caliber rifles was still raining down from the overpass.

 

Probably over a hundred to deal with.

 

As I turned to head east again, something struck me odd: yes, it’s sound doctrine to pull your forces into defensible positions when your perimeter is breached, but there’s usually some form of stalling tactics.

 

Normally I’d say right then wasn’t the time to be lost in thought, but something about this felt wrong.

 

More explosions began sounding on the north side of the settlement. That would be the squad above throwing grenades. 

 

Coming to a stop to clear the next street, I found it empty. They were seeding ground to buy time, retreat, and regroup.

 

But for what?

 

The detonations trickled to a stop.

 

There was no way they ran out of explosives yet…

 

The gunfire had stopped too.

 

Something is very, very wrong here. No gunfire from either side, no explosions, the rapid retreat into what I’d guess is a hardened position somewhere in the town. 

 

And then the side of the overpass erupted.

 

In an instant, concrete, steel, and rebar were blown into the night sky, a billowing cloud of dust comparable to the one left by the Semtex charge blooming from the explosion. The shockwaves and its accompanying boom weren’t as powerful, but it was still strong enough to shake dirt and dust from the buildings directly below the freeway. Pieces of the raised road began falling into the town as I ducked back from the corner. 

 

Son of a bitch . They’d been falling back to a hardened position to avoid shrapnel.

 

I yanked my radio from its satchel and hit the transmit button. “Glory, do you copy?”

 

Nothing. 

 

Why had they stopped firing before the detonation had gone off?

 

My feet carried me back up the alley to the west. If they’re gone, I need to change things up. I don’t know if bringing in their QRF is a good idea at this point.

 

“Glory, do you copy?”

 

Clearing the next street once again, I turned north, heading toward the freeway at a dead run.

 

Nothing.

 

Shit. I stopped at the next intersection and checked it, but I didn’t continue across. If they’re dead, heading up there would only put me in a compromised position. The Gunners would be waiting for someone to try and rescue them.

 

Pressing transmit again, I took a deep breath. “Glory, do you copy?”

 

Nothing.

 

Stay calm. I took another deep breath. 

 

Stay calm. A third.

 

It wasn’t working. I could feel my mind beginning to boil with fury. The Gunners hadn’t just killed these people- my people, they’d just shot my best chance at getting the Railroad to join the Brotherhood. 

 

I shoved the radio back into my satchel.

 

They’d killed Glory, someone Cass looks up to. They’d killed MacCready and, while I didn’t care for the guy, Preston clearly trusts him. 

 

No, despite my efforts, I was pissed . I’m going to make these motherfuckers pay . Without support, an attack like this would be damn near impossible.

 

So what-

 

Gunfire exploded from the overpass. When I looked up, I saw muzzle flashes flaring into the night. The reports were the deep, bone-rattling booms of large caliber rifles.

 

Wha- had they survived? How?

 

It didn’t matter, I ripped the radio out again and-

 

No, they don’t need me as a distraction. They need to focus on whoever they’re fighting.

 

But they could be compromised. They could need help . I don’t know what their status is, and with the way the Gunners have changed the battlefield, we need to change the plan.

 

Switching channels on my radio, I skirted down the street as I hit transmit. 

 

“QRF, move to the south end of Quincy and keep a perimeter in the tree line. Do not approach the town.”

 

There was a split-second pause before John replied. “Understood. Everything good in there, we saw the freeway go up.”

 

At the next intersection, I stopped once again to clear my cross. “Unknown. Glory’s team is alive and fighting, I’m moving to assist.”

 

Another brief pause. 

 

“Alright, we’ll be there in five minutes.”

 

With that, I put the radio away and headed for the perimeter. Half a klick to the on-ramp, I could cover that in no time at a full sprint. I’d have to be careful of stragglers or a rear guard.

 

Or I could bypass them.

 

Time is key here.

 

As I reached the perimeter, I vaulted the two-and-a-half meter high wall and hit the ground running. Armored boots pounding against the dirt and grass beneath them. A few heartbeats later, I’d crossed back into the forest and began weaving through trees as fast as I could. The gunfire was still raging, but I couldn’t tell if either side was winning. Glory’s team would have the benefit of static positions if they weren’t compromised, but the Gunners have numbers. 

 

My internal clock wasn’t just ticking, it was screaming at me as I raced through the forest, trampling underbrush, crashing through branches, and leaping over the occasional rock outcropping. I almost tumbled into a ravine as my flight carried me to the edge. Grabbing a tree, I managed to pull myself away and skirt the ledge.

 

Less than 30 seconds later, I was nearing the on-ramp. 

 

There were a dozen Gunners guarding it. Most were at the base of the roadway, in cover behind the rusted hulks that had once been cars. Four were ahead of it, closer to the trees. They were searching the forest desperately and I knew there was no way they didn’t hear me.

 

Skidding to a stop, I pulled the last of my grenades and a C4 charge from their satchel. After priming the grenade, I lobbed it toward the group on the on-ramp. While the cars provided decent enough cover, they were also crammed together. That means, when the grenade landed in their midst, the mad scramble to get away from it was fruitless. 

 

But I didn’t wait to see the aftermath. The C4 was already flying toward the closest two Gunners watching the forest. Neither seemed to notice the small cube of explosives landing by them until I hit the detonator. 

 

The blast threw one into a tree and, while I couldn’t hear the bones breaking, the impact was definitely hard enough to do it. The second tumbled backward, missing an arm and leg. 

 

With the other two scrambling for cover, I waited until one of them stopped behind and tree. He, out of sheer luck, managed to shield himself from my line of sight.

 

Problem for him is line of sight doesn't matter much when your cover is trees. They don't tend to come in 'bulletproof' models.

 

The trio of rounds I put into the center of the tree rewarded me with a shrill scream and spray of blood. 

 

With my position compromised, I ducked back into the forest as the last rear guard began peppering the area with gunfire. After a handful of strides to reposition, I sighted on the woman and sent the Gunner to join her friends.

 

Gunshots poured from the on-ramp as what was left of the rear guard engaged. Most were inaccurate, probably spraying and hoping for a hit. A few landed, flaring my shields, but not enough to be dangerous. With at least half of their numbers gone and, apparently, no visual on me, they were disorganized and panicking.

 

Close.

 

There were 40 meters between the edge of the forest and the roadway and they passed in an instant. I took three more glancing strikes before I was on top of them. Five Gunners were still alive, all of them firing frantically. The first two barely had a chance to adjust their aim before they were dead. The other three were able to adjust their fire but, as I weaved through the mess of old, rusted car bodies, most of the rounds either ricochet off my shields or missed altogether. 

 

Another three shots claimed the third Gunner and I leaped over the car between him and the next. As I sailed forward, I brought my knee up, slamming it into her chest. The force of the blow drove the woman into the car behind. Despite a loud crack her armor held and saved her from an impact that would have crushed her ribcage. She died when I brought the butt of my confiscated rifle down on her head.

 

The last Gunner screamed in rage and began spraying wildly. At this range, most of the rounds connected and my shields began draining. I dove between two cars before they could empty. Twisting as I fell, I fired once and the shout turned into a gargled scream. I fell out of view before his body crumpled to the ground. 

 

No time to celebrate. 

 

My shields whined as they recharged, and I scrambled to my feet, took a few spare magazines from the last Gunner, and charged up the ramp toward the still ongoing gunfight.

 

As soon as I made it to the raised roadway, I moved to the south end of the freeway, ducking and weaving between cars to avoid any potential-

 

A round cracked by my helmet followed by the booming report of Glory’s sniper rifle.

 

I was never told who I was supposed to be avoiding when ONI taught me evasive movement. Apparently, some of it was friendly fire.

 

Even so, the shooting began trickling to a halt. 

 

“Goddammit Damon”, the Railroad soldier roared as it finally grew quiet.

 

Did they… win already? I blinked. 

 

“We’re clear”, another voice shouted. It was Deacon. 

 

“Clear!”

 

“Clear!”

 

Peering out from behind my cover, I saw someone standing 50 meters away in the center of the freeway. It was MacCready, rifle up, sweeping the road ahead. The former mercenary was covered top to bottom in dirt and, even from this distance, I could see the bloody tear in the left arm of his jacket.

 

“Everyone good?” Glory called.

 

“No…” someone responded. “We lost Chuck.”

 

“Has anyone seen Charlie?”

 

“No”, Deacon said. “Didn’t see him after the explosion.”

 

When I stood, I saw the bodies. There were at least 10 dead Gunners scattered among the cars. From what I could see, most of them were dead from large caliber gunshots. That meant the others played decoy to open up opportunities for MacCready and Glory.

 

These people are good. 

 

“Coming over”, I called as I began picking my way through the rusted hulks.

 

They weren’t in great shape. It looked like the other surviving member of the Railroad squad had taken a round in his chest plate, and sure enough, the man he’d called Chuck was laying in a pool of blood, his neck torn open. They were all caked in dirt and dust from the explosion. Each had some form of visible injury and there’s no telling what internal damage they suffered. Hell, they’re lucky they can hear anything and that explosion hadn’t blown their eardrums.

 

Goddammit.

 

The Gunners had a good response, one we didn’t anticipate. Blowing the freeway was an impressively pragmatic strategy and one that required a level of brutality I should have expected from them.

 

Despite that, only the edge overlooking the town was gone. Most of the roadway and what was left of the structure were still intact.

 

This isn’t over yet; their main force is still active below us. They’re going to figure out the team they sent to deal with the overwatch had failed. It would happen around the same time they realized I wasn’t in Quincy anymore. They probably wouldn’t like it, but our best option is to continue even with the losses so far. If we don't, getting away from Quincy will be difficult.

 

We need to get this done.

 

I turned to Glory. She appeared to be in relatively good shape, just a tear in her thick leather jacket below her right shoulder. “Are you good to continue?” She was looking down at the dead man, his eyes staring lifelessly at the roof above us.

 

“Yeah”, the Railroad soldier said, shaking herself. She met my gaze, eyes burning. “Before they blew the freeway, we saw a squad of Gunners in power armor, maybe four of them.” The white-haired woman hefted her rifle. “This is the only thing we got up here that’ll get through it.”

 

“Mine’s still south of town.”

 

She grunted. “Great.”

 

“Do you know where they went?”

 

“No, as soon as we saw them we had to beat feet to get away from the edge.”

 

When we got back, I’d have to ask how they knew the freeway was about to blow.

 

How am I going to do this? Even with their counter-attack failing (mostly), they’ll have had time to regroup and reorganize. Things need to change if we’re going to win this.

 

“Alright. I’m going back down to draw that group out. I need a few grenades.”

 

Deacon walked over to the now deceased Railroad soldier and pulled open his satchel. He returned carrying four. “Don’t waste ‘em.”

 

Tucking them into my bag I nodded. There was no time to go all the way back to the on-ramp. Scaling one of the supports would be faster.

 

Before I could drop over the side, I stopped. MacCready and the three remaining Railroad members were starting toward the destroyed section of the overpass. This has already gone wrong enough, it doesn’t need to go any more wrong.

 

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks”, I called. 

 

None of them turned, but Glory offered me a wave over her shoulder.

 

They were still focused. They have a job to do.

 

Just like me.

 

Climbing over the edge, I grabbed onto one of the supports and began climbing down, using the large I-beam as both hand and footholds. 

 

Once I was on the ground again, I slipped toward Quincy. As strange as it was at this point in a fight, I had to reset and start over. I’m out of the perimeter, the Gunners have had time to prepare defenses, and now my overwatch had to reposition. It’s easy to get caught in the momentum of combat, but sometimes it pays to slow down and re-examine the situation. 

 

I still have four C4 charges, four grenades, two and a half magazines for the combat rifle, plenty for my handgun and MK18, and the Semtex on the perimeter to the south. 

 

Staying in the shadows cast by the overpass, I got to within a dozen meters of the fence that made up their perimeter and settled behind one of the freeway’s supports. 

 

With the chance to re-establish, the Gunners will be harder to dig out this time.

 

There was no time to re-do my recon, not with the amount of noise we’ve made. I can use the QRF to gather information from the south side of the town. Win conditions still haven’t changed. Eliminate enough of a force, the rest will run or surrender. It’s extremely uncommon for any army to fight to the last, and even more so with mercenaries.

 

They’ve been hit, hard, and their counterattack didn’t work. Their last major tactical asset is the power armored fireteam. If I can find and eliminate them, would it be enough to break the rest?

 

It’s possible…

 

How would I find them?

 

They baited their trap, an enticing position. There’s no way they don’t know who I am by now, so I bait them in return.

 

Make noise, cause chaos, get them to come to me, turn their best asset into corpses.

 

A razor-sharp smile slipped onto my face. 

 

Sometimes I enjoy what I do. Maybe I enjoy it a little too much.

 

Pulling the radio from my satchel, I hit transmit. “Glory, do you copy?”

 

“I hear you”, she replied after an instant.

 

“Give me 30 seconds, then drop every grenade you have on them.”

 

“Got it.”

 

The clock began ticking in my head and I shot out from my cover. I hadn’t made it more than 20 meters when gunfire burst back into the night. This time it was more concentrated, torrent rounds flying through the open spaces in the perimeter wall. Most missed, but enough connected that, by the time I made it back to the forest a few seconds later, my shields were bleeding energy. 

 

Then a minigun joined the fray.  

 

A moment after I reached the woods and turned to rush toward the perimeter, the signature whine of the rotary weapon’s motor made itself known just beneath the reports. An instant later, trees and underbrush around me were sprayed with a hail of gunfire. 

 

A few of the small caliber rounds connected, but the thickening forest made it difficult to track me. I veered to the right, heading further south, and put distance between myself and the heavy weapon. 

 

Once I'd put a row between myself and the defenders, I turned back toward the town. A few seconds later, I reached the perimeter and leaped back over the wall. As soon as I hit the ground, I was running again, heading for the nearest building.

 

Just ahead of me was another squad of Gunners. They were scanning the perimeter from the safety of a small house across the street, sandbags stacked in front.

 

I didn’t slow as I pulled a grenade from my satchel and primed it. The anti-personnel explosive soared over their cover as I turned up the street. Gunfire chased me but a few heartbeats later the explosive went off.,.

 

Five seconds.

 

Unless that gun was mounted, it would have had to have been carried by one of their power armored soldiers. That’s where I need to be.

 

As the last few seconds ticked by, I made it to the row of buildings just south of where the barrage of minigun fire had come from. I began counting up and, once I got to four, the explosions started. The explosions started and they kept going. Glory’s people didn’t have an arsenal with them, but they had enough grenades to ruin someone’s day.

 

Two seconds in, I slipped into another alley between a storefront and an apartment building, skirting north toward my target.

 

It was chaos in the street beyond. Gunners were scrambling for cover as grenades continued raining down. Nothing had dropped here but, further east, I could still see explosions going off. It was hard to tell, but it looked like there were several dead bodies. That wasn’t my concern.

 

No, my concern was the five lumbering suits of power armor. Three of them were carrying miniguns, the same ones the Brotherhood had ambushed me with in Diamond city. The other two were carrying large caliber rifles. The frames looked the same as the T-60 power armor the Brotherhood uses, but they were clad in much cruder armor. It looked like someone had taken any collection of steel plates they could find and welded them in place. I didn’t have to lift one to know they were substantially heavier than the T-60 suits. Not only was there a lot more material, but their movements were sluggish and labored, even for those suits. Hell, they made Brotherhood soldiers look like goddamn dancers. It didn’t surprise me the 12.7mm rifle was the only thing that would get through that. These things were built for one thing only: breaking their way into whatever they were attacking.

 

Time to see if it’s worth the trade-off.

 

The answer was obvious to anyone with any sort of combat experience: no. The reason Mjolnir is such a phenomenal system is it doesn’t sacrifice mobility for protection, in fact, it enhances it. Mobility is key in any protracted fight, and that’s what this has turned into. 

 

Emptying the rest of my magazine into the closest armored figure, all five of them turned to me in unison. The three miniguns spun up and, a split second after I sprinted back into the alley, the corners of the building flanking me were turned to dust.

 

With a new magazine in my stolen combat rifle, I pulled a C4 charge and dodged around to the east side of the apartment building.

 

The squad of power-armored soldiers was already lumbering down the alley. It was narrow enough, they could barely fit side by side. It was a move made by someone too reliant on their equipment. If I had something larger than the MK18 they’d be screwed. Plastic explosives would have to do instead.

 

I tossed the small charge toward them and, the instant I heard it clink off of the lead Gunner’s armor, I hit the detonator. 

 

An overpressure wave blew out of the alley, scattering the dust and garbage that had collected between the buildings into the street. 

 

That armor provided good protection.

 

The first armored form was laying prone, chest torn open and mangled. The rest were still alive, and the rear three were recovering.

 

A second C4 charge left my hand just before a booming report exploded over the sounds of gunfire to the north. The shot blew a massive chunk out of the building’s corner just above my head.

 

Two seconds later, I hit the detonator, setting off another explosion in the tight alley. 

 

No need to overstay my welcome. That second explosion probably didn’t kill any of them anyway-

 

My decision turned out to be just in time. I was maybe a dozen meters away from the alley where I’d been standing an instant before when it detonated. The overpressure slammed into my back and I had to scramble to maintain my footing. That hadn’t been a grenade, which meant they had plastic explosives too or there was an RPG somewhere.

 

Either way, I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.

 

Whatever the case, this squad had support. The miniguns didn’t worry me too much, their small caliber rounds would take an eternity to get through both my suit’s soft and hard armor. Those large caliber rifles were a problem. They could definitely penetrate my undersuit given the right spot. Not to mention, one of those would probably break something even if it didn’t go through me.

 

The more distance I could put between myself and their support, the better.

 

Unsurprisingly, when I glanced back at the alley, the power armored Gunners were chasing. 

 

Perfect.

 

Another shot boomed and crashed into the small house ahead of me. 

 

All four were in the street now, lumbering ahead in their ungainly armor. 

 

Not far. I just need you to follow me for a little bit.

 

I continued south, heading for the perimeter wall.

 

The gunfight raging between Glory’s team and the other Gunners hadn’t died down, but there weren’t any more explosions. This needs to happen fast, they’re low on manpower and, despite their position, didn’t have a lot of time.

 

What I need is for these armored assholes to chase me faster.

 

They obviously only fight one way: press. That type of aggressive fighting style is exploitable with inexperienced or undisciplined people. 

 

With the squad falling further behind, I slipped into an alley and pulled my penultimate C4 charge. 

 

Closing my eyes, I set down the combat rifle and counted off the seconds as I listened to the cacophony of pounding footsteps approach. 

 

Once they were within 5 meters of the alley, I flipped the small cube of explosives around the corner and, after another second, detonated it.

 

As soon as the pressure wave passed, I turned out into the street, yanking my knife from its sheath. The closest Gunner was reeling from the explosion, the front of their armor damaged, metal twisted from the blast. 

 

That one would be my target.

 

I lunged forward and, in their panic, the armored mercenary tried to bring their large caliber rifle up. Batting it aside, I closed with them and delivered an open-handed strike to the front of their helmet. The blow was powerful enough to snap their head back. I took my opportunity to ram my knife into the space left in their poorly assembled armor.

 

Blood gushed from around the blade as it connected with the Gunner’s jugular.

 

As much as I wanted to engage the rest, they were starting to recover and, while I probably could have taken them, my goal was only one more street away. 

 

If the other Gunners were going to be broken, this needs to be big.

 

Kicking the mortally wounded mercenary away, I turned and sprinted to the south once again. 

 

When I rounded the next corner, I came face to face with another six-person squad of Gunners. Two were carrying RPG launchers.

 

Found the support squad.

 

Combat rifle still in the alley, I yanked the handgun from my hip and started firing into the squad. My first round slammed into one of the launcher carrying mercenaries. The second hit the man beside him in the neck. As the third round left the handgun, its target, the second launcher’s owner, the remaining Gunners drew a bead on me.

 

Rounds began peppering my shields as the third shot connected. The target’s finger tightened around the launcher’s trigger and sent a rocket careening toward me. 

 

It passed over my head as I dove to the right. I didn’t see the aftermath of its impact. My dive turned into a roll and I was up again, sprinting for the southern wall. 

 

With the remaining six Gunners chasing me, I slipped into an alley, more gunfire slamming into the building to my right. As I ran down its length, I yanked my radio from its pouch and switched to the QRF’s channel.

 

“I’ll be at the southern wall in 10 seconds. Do not engage the Gunners chasing me.”

 

“Say that again”, the response came as the timer in my head began screaming at me. “You don’t want us to engage.”

 

The alley coming to an end, I dropped into a slide and a hail of bullets tore through the air over me. 

 

“Affirmative.” I scrambled to my feet and made for the last row of buildings before reaching the perimeter wall. 

 

When I reached it, I stopped at the corner of a mostly intact house and trained my handgun on the alley I’d just emerged from.

 

Nothing.

 

After another three seconds passed without any Gunners, my aim drifted around to the other streets and alleys. Sure enough, the three remaining armored Gunners emerged from the street to my right. 

 

The 10mm rounds I sent their way didn’t do anything, but I don’t need it to kill them, I just need their attention.

 

It got it.

 

The two remaining miniguns began spinning up as I retreated from the corner. The wood and brick siding disintegrated under a hail of small caliber rounds. By then I was approaching the wall.

 

My legs drove into the ground and I propelled myself upward, clearing the barrier, and hit the ground running. 

 

10 more seconds.

 

As I crossed the small clearing between the perimeter wall and the surrounding forest, I pulled the second Semtex charge’s detonator from my satchel.

 

Eight seconds.

 

While there was no way of knowing where the support squad was, I had to hope they’d taken cover.

 

Angling toward where I left the McMillan, more seconds ticked off my internal clock.

 

Three seconds.

 

I spotted the large caliber rifle laying in the same spot I’d left it. Dropping to the ground, I flattened myself as best I could.

 

One.

 

Zero.

 

My thumb hit the detonator and the second brick of plastic explosive went off. 

 

The shockwave, like last time, rushed through the forest of sickly trees and browning underbrush, blasting away any dirt that settled on them from the first explosion. The sound was just as deafening as the first detonation, but this time I didn’t watch its effects. I had myself pressed to the ground as the overpressure wave slammed into me. 

 

If my timing was right, I doubt any of the support squad would have survived that, and if more than one of the armored Gunners have, I’d be surprised.

 

A few heartbeats later, the night settled once again. Even the gunfire on the north side of the town had come to a stop.

 

This isn’t time to sit around and wait though; if there were any survivors, they’re stunned. I need to take advantage and eliminate them.

 

Before the sound of the detonation had a chance to fade into the dark forest around me, I was up again, McMillan at the ready. This time, I was much more mindful about remaining quiet, placing my armored boots in the dry grass and loose dirt as carefully as I could. I won’t be caught off guard because of negligence. Not again.

 

As I neared the edge of the treeline, the perimeter wall came into view. The hole, about five meters wide again, didn’t have any bodies around it, There were a few pieces of them. Then, as I studied the town beyond it, I caught sight of one armored figure motionless on the ground. They’d been blown clear by the explosion.

 

Two were still missing though…

 

I continued scanning the edge of Quincy, but there were no signs of them. The remaining power armored mercenaries might have been dead too, but I’m not going to take chances.

 

Eyes still searching, I slipped back into the town-

 

And lunged for cover as I caught a glimpse of someone peering around the corner of a building. One of the large caliber rifles boomed and a round crashed into my left arm. My shields flared and the status bar dropped by half. 

 

So yes, at least one survived.

 

Well… I reached the first building inside the perimeter wall. It would be boring if that got all of them.

 

It was time to go back on the offensive. Regardless of whether they survived or not, there was no way a regular person was uninjured in that armor that close to that explosion.

 

Rounding the corner, McMillan up, I sighted on the spot I’d last seen one of the Gunners.

 

They were still there, the front of their armor blackened, but its plating didn’t look damaged.

 

My first round crashed into the mercenary’s helmet. Their head snapped back-

 

But it didn’t kill them. The armored Gunner staggered toward the closest building, dropping their rifle as they did. 

 

It may not have killed them, but that shot would definitely ring that person’s bell. I have to give the Gunners credit though; I’ve put holes in the Brotherhood’s T60 with this rifle. That their cobbled-together armor would stop it is impressive.

 

That respect didn’t go far enough to assuage my disdain for these bastards.

 

The Gunner didn’t have the chance to reach the corner before I was on them. I slammed my right shoulder into their chest. That armor, while heavy, wasn’t going to take half a ton of SPARTAN and Mjolnir and a dead run. 

 

As the loud clang of titanium on steel burst into the night, the armored mercenary left their feet and tumbled backward. 

 

Right then I heard a hiss to my left and I threw myself forward. 

 

An instant later, the sound of a minigun burst into the night and already broken asphalt and concrete exploded around me.

 

I rolled away from the gunfire and turned as I found my feet again. The second survivor’s armor looked unmarred. Had they been further behind the others?

 

It doesn’t matter. They’re a threat.

 

Before the armored bastard could correct aim, I sprang at them. My prey didn’t have time to backpedal before I closed, slamming them into the building hard enough to dislodge a dozen bricks. The minigun, still clutched in the Gunner’s hands, continued firing, but now it was just drilling a hole into the street to my left.

 

Lashing out, I drove a right hook into their helmet with enough force their head rebounded off the wall behind them. 

 

That got the mercenary to stop shooting at nothing. 

 

The blow must have disoriented them because they sagged to the ground as the weapon fire faded away.

 

If the McMillan wouldn’t get through their armor, there was no point in wasting the ammo. I yanked my knife out once again and, pulling their head back, drove my knife into the Gunner’s neck like I had before.

 

Blood spurted from the wound as I pulled away. The armor’s now dying occupant had the awareness to drop the minigun and scramble for the gash. With the armor in the way, they wouldn't be able to apply pressure to the gushing wound, not that it would help a severed carotid artery.

 

Pounding footsteps on the pavement behind me drew my attention away from the Gunner as they fell to the concrete-

 

The other mercenary plowed into me as I began turning. Both of us tumbled to the ground. They did their best to keep hold of me, but metal on metal with the bulky manipulators in that armor offered no grip.

 

Once we hit the ground, the impact jarred them loose and I rolled away. I was on my feet again before they had a chance to recover and I fell on my first victim. My knife found the seam between their left arm and chest plate and I felt it hit skin. 

 

A loud screech came from behind the helmet as I drove it into their armpit, twisting and ripping as much as the thin slot would allow. 

 

As they writhed and bucked beneath me, I ripped the knife out and jammed it in again.

 

And a third time.

 

Life pouring from their armpit in a stream of red, the last remaining member of the town’s armored squad struggles slowed until they ceased moving altogether. I let a moment of satisfaction wash over me as I stood from the corpse. After the clusterfuck this turned into, eliminating that squad was an accomplishment. 

 

The sounds of fighting to the north hadn’t resumed. I had no way of knowing why. S tanding around and speculating won’t get me anywhere. After taking a few seconds to check my weapons, I began north. 

 

I pulled the radio from my satchel and hit transmit. “Glory, do you copy?”

 

A few seconds later, the Railroad soldier’s voice crackled through. “That explosion was you?”

 

“Affirmative, the armored force has been eliminated.” I slipped across another street, just one more row of houses away from the former gunfight. “What’s your status?”

 

“They haven’t shot back at us since you blew up the south side of the town again. Looks like they’re trying to figure out what to do.”

 

Do they know that squad is dead? “Copy. Estimated force strength?”

 

“Shit I don’t know…” The radio fell silent for a moment as I stopped beside a mostly destroyed apartment building. “Mac and Deacon are thinking maybe 50 left.”

 

50. That’s acceptable.

 

“Understood. Give me 20 seconds to get in position to their south. Then demand their surrender.”

 

There was another short pause on her end.

 

“You want me to do that?”

 

“They already know you’re on the overpass, I’d rather keep one position unknown.”

 

A grunt came over the radio. “Alright but if this gets me shot I’m going to haunt you for the rest of your life.”

 

I huffed. “Understood.”

 

Without knowing how the remaining Gunners were spread around the town, I had to do some guesswork when finding a new position. I ended up on the fourth level of a building that, at one point, had been an office of some sort. Desks, chairs, computers, and other debris was scattered around the floor. Most of the floors had collapsed which explained why it didn’t look like anyone used the building.

 

From that position, I could see the area they’d converted into the town’s main square. With a few smaller buildings, rusted cars, and what looked like poorly built walkways and fortifications, they’d tried to make it more usable, but it wasn’t the best work I’d seen.

 

A few dozen Gunners were visible in cover, but it looked like most of them were hunkered down, waiting for orders. Were they stupid enough to give command to one of the armored mercenaries? Or had Glory and her squad killed their commander? In either case, this seemed odd, but it was at least promising.

 

It was promising for more than one reason. This fight has been going on for the better part of 20 minutes now. Any Brotherhood forces in the area will have reported it. We’ll be seeing at least a sortie heading our way soon. We need to get this done and get out before it turns into a bigger problem. I don’t need another event like my last scouting trip, especially with four other people in the line of fire.

 

“Hey assholes!”, Glory’s voice came from the overpass. “You ready to give up?! Your big guns are dead, and you’re boxed in.”

 

Several of the Gunners shifted, looking at one another, but no one responded. 

 

“Alright, so I take it whoever’s in charge here is dead then”, the Railroad soldier continued. “I’ll make it easy for you. We don’t have a lot of time, so someone, anyone has 10 seconds to come out and say you give up, or we finish the job-”

 

“Wait!” someone in the square shouted back. “I ain’t getting paid enough to die here!” 

 

A man stood from his cover, near the middle of the square, hands empty and held over his head.

 

“Vance you son of a bitch what are you doing?!” another mercenary shouted.

 

“You heard ‘em: Clint and the guys are dead, they got the high ground, and that armored bastard’s out there somewhere. Hell, he’s probably the one who did Clint.”

 

No one else said anything. That’s probably a good sign too.

 

“Sounds like they’re about ready to shit themselves”, Glory said over the radio. 

 

That they do. “Affirmative.”

 

“At least you’re smart enough to know when you’re beat. Anyone else wanna join this guy?”

 

It took a few seconds but soon, one by one, the Gunners began standing and dropping whatever they were armed with. After another minute or so, the mercenaries were all around the square with their hands raised over their heads. 

 

“Good. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The Minutemen don’t have a use for scumbags like you. If it were up to me, I’d just shoot the rest of you, but we’re using good ammo and it’d be wasted. Instead, you’ve got until morning to get your asses out of Quincy or the rest of you join your friends.”

 

The Minutemen? I cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Make sure the rest of the Gunners know we’re back, and if you try messing with the people around here, things will get a lot worse for you.”

 

This… wasn’t part of the plan. The point of the attack was to get the Railroad to buy into the idea I can provide the sort of firepower the Minutemen will need to get started. 

 

It was also to get people in the Commonwealth interested in the idea of the Minutemen again. If these mfers spread what happened here around, that could be a huge help.

 

And if they know I was here, they’ll definitely tell people about that.

 

While I hadn’t intended for it to go like this, that’s both a good and bad thing. 

 

There was some murmuring in the square but, eventually, one of the Gunners spoke up. “Alright, we’ll be outta here in a few hours. Don’t think this means we won’t be coming after you. We’ve driven the Minutemen out before.”

 

“You’re right, you did. We’re a little different now if you didn’t notice.” She paused and when she started again, I could hear the razor-sharp grin in her voice. “Besides, like you said, we’ve got that armored bastard with us now.”

 

So that was her intent.

 

None of the Gunners responded. Even if I didn’t 100% like it, they’d gotten the message loud and clear.

 

In the silence, I could just make out the same low hum I had the other day. That would be the Brotherhood.

 

“Hey Damon, you hear that?” Glory asked over the radio.

 

“Affirmative.”

 

“Time to get the hell out of here.”

 

Agreed. “I’ll rendezvous and the primary fallback.”

 

“Got it, we’ll meet you there.”

 

Switching to the QRF’s frequency, I keyed the radio again. “Brotherhood forces are approaching from the north.”

 

“Gotcha”, came the response. “We’ll see you back at the bunker.”

 

As I went to put the radio back into my satchel, the thought of staying crossed my mind. With what happened between the Gunners and Brotherhood the last time I was in Boston, seeing how these groups began interacting would be interesting. A few of the mercenaries, I’m sure, would get away but with 50 of them, at least some of them wouldn’t. What would happen to those ones?

 

Don’t overreach. This operation has already been a mess, I don’t need to complicate things. 

 

My hand was hovering just outside of my satchel. All I had to do was change frequency again and tell the squad to keep going without me, that I’d catch up later.

 

No… they’re going to know I was here during the attack. That means they’ll probably start searching for me. I’ve already put Glory and her people in enough danger.

 

I placed the radio in its pouch and slipped out of the short, mostly destroyed building. By the time I was at the first hole I’d blown in the southern wall, the sound of the Vertibirds was clearly audible and drawing closer. They’d be at Quincy in the next five minutes, and I need to make sure I’m long gone when they arrive.

 

Despite my reservations, I couldn’t help but feel like this was an opportunity I shouldn’t be wasting. I have the McMillan back, I can deal with the Vertibirds if given the right opportunity now.

 

But what would I gain from watching this? What new information would it give me? I already know the Brotherhood hates the Gunners and now they’re engaging in active combat. What would seeing them capture our leftovers tell me?

 

The question still bothered me as I snuck through the forest, heading southwest toward a small house we’d found in the middle of the woods about three klicks from the town. 

 

By the time I’d made it a kilometer from Quincy, I looked back to see four Vertibirds circling the small collection of buildings. They certainly came prepared for a fight. I don’t know if I’ve seen them scramble four of the VTOLs for a single target before. My best guess is they have 18 of them left, 4 is almost a quarter of their force. 

 

There was still time to watch. Glory’s squad would take at least 20 minutes to make it to the rendezvous, I could be there in less than 10. There’s no reason to rush.

 

Two of the aircraft began descending toward the town and I watched until they were swallowed beneath the canopy above me. The others maintained their altitude and, through the McMillan’s scope, I saw both had door gunners poised with miniguns aimed down at Quincy. 

 

About 15 seconds after they descended, the two other Vertibirds reappeared. That was a quick insertion, a far cry from the first time I’d done one with them at the West Everett Estates. How they’d managed to dominate the Capital Wastelands (whatever those were) with the tactics they used when they first arrived was beyond me. If Maxson and his people are anything, it’s fast learners

 

As the four Vertibirds resumed their circling of the small town, no fighting broke out. The Gunners were outgunned and they knew it.

 

While the outcome was a bit disappointing, it wasn’t wholly unexpected. The mercenaries may be stupid, but they aren’t suicidal. Usually. It would have been a difficult fight even if we hadn’t halved their forces first. With the resources at their disposal, taking on the Brotherhood would be moronic.

 

Leaving was the right decision. There was nothing to be learned-

 

A brilliant flash in the city lit up the night as I began to turn. 

 

Molecular Relay transition. 

 

Before the light had a chance to fade, another flash went off in, from what I could tell, the middle of Quincy. The charge’s boom followed a few seconds later and, while subdued, it was still loud. It wasn’t right though. That detonation didn’t have the shockwave of an explosion. Was that a massive concussion charge?

 

Another series of flashes followed, and the stabs of light from laser fire began punctuating the night. It was a mix of the Institute’s blue and Brotherhood’s red, mixing in a cacophony of strobes quick enough to elicit a seizure.

 

My mind pulled me in two directions. The first, and louder voice was telling me to go back to the city, recon the situation, see if I can take advantage of it, or at least gather information. The second was telling me I need to rendezvous with the others and get the hell out of here. This just got a lot more complicated and, right now, my objective is to get everyone back to the Railroad safely. 

 

The second, more reasonable voice won the short argument and I turned to the southwest again. 

 

As I slipped through the heavily forested area, my mind was racing with questions. Why is the Institute here? Why would they engage the Brotherhood in Quincy? Did they intend to catch the Gunners instead? Was this just a case of bad timing? 

 

A few minutes of weaving my way through the forest, double checking I wasn’t followed later, I arrived at the rendezvous. It wasn’t much more than a few trees surrounding what used to be a shack in the middle of the woods. Whoever lived here before the bombs fell was probably a paranoid shut away, if the basement full of destroyed radio equipment and preserved goods was anything to go by. I remember reading about people around this time fearing alien invasions, so they would make ‘bunkers’ under their houses in preparation for the inevitable.

 

The memory brought a small smile, not entirely amused to my face. They were right, aliens did come to kill us. 300 years from now. What they should have worried about was their own leaders blowing them to hell. 

 

A shallow basement below your shack a half dozen kilometers from a major metropolitan area didn’t help much. 

 

While waiting for the others to arrive, I paced a perimeter around the rendezvous. Something was bothering me about this; the Institute doesn’t attack unless they’re sure they can win, or they’re desperate enough to risk losing. Nate might not be trained in unconventional warfare but he is intelligent and extremely shrewd. That’s to say nothing of Shaun and Ayo. What did they have to gain by attacking the Brotherhood in Quincy, unless a Synth was there, somehow? The only other explanations I can think of is they believe this is a good opportunity to eliminate some non-replaceable assets, eliminate a large Gunner presence (understandable considering the Mercenaries’ treatment of Synths), or…

 

Or they’re looking for me.

 

The first and third possibilities were both worrying. Each of them meant the Institute had eyes in the area. If that’s the case they’d know, one, I was responsible for the attack on the Gunners, and two, that I’m probably still in the area. 

 

I stopped in a thicket of trees, taking an extra few seconds to scan the dense forest around me.

 

Depending on where their potential scouts were positioned, that means they could know I’m out here with Railroad forces.

 

And if they know that…

 

This can’t lead them back to the Railroad’s hideout. If it does, that not only eliminates the possibility of Railroad cooperation, it puts Cass and Tommy in danger.

 

That’s not going to happen.

 

Fishing the radio from my satchel, I pressed transmit.

 

“Do not respond to this. Do not go to fallback. Repeat, do not go to fallback. Institute forces engaged with Brotherhood in Quincy. Potentially aware of our presence. Pull back to a safe location, I will rendezvous tomorrow morning.”

 

As I released the button, I paused to listen. If the Institute is playing a game here, which I wouldn’t put past them, the last thing they need to do is give away the squad's position. Now the question is are they smart enough to get the countermove I just made? 

 

Only one way to find out.

 

They are, undoubtedly, already on edge. If the Institute is listening in to our poorly secured communications, they know I’m aware they may be after us. They know I’m going to try to lose any potential tails. 

 

They’re also right about that. 

 

An instant later, I bolted from my cover and maintained the fastest pace I could while weaving through the closely packed trees. With no idea where, or if, Coursers might be hiding, I don’t have the luxury of taking it slow. Their gauss rifles can get through my armor given the time. If they’re able to teleport a bomb near me, that could be a problem too. 

 

So I kept my pace near a dead run, faster than any of their people could match, especially through the forest. The fighting was still raging in the town. When I glanced up from my path, I saw one of the Vertibirds pulling away, smoke pouring from both engine pods. Another was shuddering under what I could only guess was gauss fire. They came to play for keeps. 

 

As I got further away from the fighting, I started bending my path to the east. By the time I’d gone a kilometer, I was heading due east and started north. I can’t do anything about any potential tail on Glory’s people, but they’ve been in this game long enough to have their own protocols for this situation. My goal isn’t exactly to lose a tail either. They just need to think that’s what I’m trying to do. I have very little doubt, if the Institute is tracking me, they know they’d have to get creative. 

 

That’s where what’s left of downtown Boston comes in.

 

Trees blurred past me as I continued slipping between them. On more than one occasion, I made a wrong move, stepping on uneven ground or a hidden rock, or bouncing off a tree. Under normal circumstances I’d be upset at the sloppiness, but right now isn’t about perfection, it’s about speed.

 

Occasional stumble aside, I made good ground through the forest and, within five minutes, I was heading north again. Would the Institute try something? Were they actually chasing me? Am I just being paranoid?

 

With the uneven footing and densely packed trees, it was difficult to scan the forest and keep myself from any more mishaps. The glances I got of the woods around me didn’t reveal anything, but that was no surprise. Even with my night vision, the shadows of the thick overhead canopy swallowed anything more than a few dozen meters away. At the very least, that probably meant-

 

Down! my head screamed at me. It took me another instant to realize I’d heard something over the sound of my armored boots pounding through the forest and that meant I was almost too late.

 

I dove between two trees as a half dozen projectiles slammed into one of them from my left. A few of them caught me in the side and almost depleted my shields. The odd report that followed an instant later was definitely not a conventional firearm or laser weapon. I don’t remember what the weapons the Institute had hit me with last time sounded like, but those may have been them. Whatever they were, they hit hard . The back side of the tree exploded in a shower of wood splinters, scattering them in the darkness. 

 

That answers that question. I came out of the roll and continued sprinting, weaving between trees to make myself a harder target.

 

Now the question is how the hell did they know I’d come this way? How did they know I’d be here ?

 

Sliding down a steep embankment, I hit the bottom and kept running through the forest. 

 

It’s possible that had been a lucky guess; if they had eyes on me somewhere along the way, they may have been able to deduce my path and put a squad ahead of me…

 

A large rock outcropping appeared in front of me in the gloom. I vaulted over it as my mind raced. 

 

Shouldn’t I have been able to see that? The transitions aren’t subtle… 

 

Another possibility is they were Coursers who had been in the forest beforehand and just moved to intercept. 

 

If they’re tracking me, I need to make sure they keep tracking me. This can’t be too obvious; they’ll get suspicious if I stay on my current path. The river is somewhere to my east. I can cross that which would lose any conventional tale. They should be able to track me though. 

 

As I veered to my right, the telltale signs of a transit flashed directly in front of me-

 

And another to my left.

 

They wouldn’t drop squads into the forest without support…

 

Those are bombs .

 

My legs pumped, driving me away from the fading lights. I made it five strides before the explosives detonated in unison. 

 

The pressure wave slammed into my back, propelling me through the air. 

 

With no control over my flight, I flipped sideways and my shoulder slammed into a small tree. Between my own pace and the momentum added by the explosion, the tree blew into splinters as I crashed through it. The impact jarred my arm and chest but, thankfully, didn't aggravate the mostly healed injuries.

 

That doesn’t mean the hit didn’t hurt . 

 

There was no time to let that slow me down. I hit the dirt and grass ground on the same shoulder, rolled a half dozen times, then was up again, sprinting toward the river. 

 

It seems my MO has changed yet again: I’m not escorting people across the goddamn Commonwealth, I’m running through it while people try to shoot me or blow me up.

 

But I can’t say I’m not enjoying myself. The fight in Quincy wasn’t anything special, but it was entertaining despite the complications. Now I have the Institute after me, and they’ve clearly got a few new tricks up their sleeves. 

 

They aren’t the only ones.

 

Reaching into my satchel again, I flipped the switch on the small, powerful radio transmitter. It wasn’t perfect, the range was limited to a few dozen meters, and the battery would only last about a minute, but the radio jammer would make it almost impossible to teleport anything in that radius. 

 

The Institute knows where I am and the direction I’m heading. This won’t be enough to lose them, but it will buy me some time. More than enough time to make it to the river.

 

With the clock ticking on my portable jammer, I redoubled my efforts, careful to avoid any more collisions or bad footing. The trees weren’t as tight as I neared the water which meant I was able to pick up the pace. Within 30 seconds, I was at the edge of the forest and sprinting down toward the river. 

 

Even in my NVS, the sickly green water looked unhealthy. That’s what my armor is for.

 

As I reached the river, I slowed to avoid slipping on the slick, silty dirt and mud at its edge and waded in. A few seconds later, I was up to my waist, shoulders, then I was completely under the dark, murky waters. My radio was waterproof, and Sturges tried to maintain the transmitter's gasketing while modifying it, but this will be the first time I’ve tested whether either of them will still work.

 

Field testing is always the best way to learn a piece of equipment’s limits.

 

Trudging across the slippery mud, river current trying to knock me off my feet, was difficult. The water was moving fast and, if it weren’t for the weight of my armor, I’d probably be floundering. That worked against me too as my armored boots kept slipping in the water-logged riverbed. 

 

Keep going. I’m operating on a clock. If any Institute forces saw me wade into the river, they’ll be putting more forces on the east side to catch me. As far as I know though… they don’t have units that can go in the water.

 

Alright Nate, let’s see how good you are. I turned south and began away from the city. Now that I wasn’t fighting the current, it was helping push me along. The added force made things difficult too. Between that and the mud riverbed, it was a struggle to maintain my footing. That wasn't my primary concern. Based on their deployment, whoever was calling the shots on this operation knew I’d try heading toward Boston. I’ve sold the story I’m trying to get somewhere fast, now it’s time to see whether they’re smart enough to call my bluff.

 

With almost no visibility, I made my way along the riverbed as slowly and methodically as I could with the current pounding on my back. Every few seconds, I set a foot down and it would begin sliding in the mud. The radiation exposure in the river wasn’t intense enough to penetrate my armor’s shielding, but that didn’t mean I wanted to stay in it long. Without knowing what was happening above me, my mind was imagining a lot of scenarios.

 

That isn’t helpful. I need to put distance between myself and my Institute tails, then figure out what to do next. I need to get back to the Railroad. Not only do I need to talk with Desdemona and see if she’s willing to play ball, but I need to get to Sanctuary and find out what they know about the informant.

 

And I’d promised Cass and Tommy I wasn’t going to disappear again. Maybe that was a compromise on my part, deciding to put my emotions above what’s best for the mission. At this point that isn’t important. At least it isn’t as important as it used to be. 

 

After slogging along the riverbed for 20 minutes, maybe covering a kilometer and a half, I trudged toward the east side of the river and began climbing toward the surface.

 

As I neared the edge of the rushing water, I slowed and did my best to scan what I could through the murky river. Between the dim light coming from a partial moon and the distortion coming through the water, it was useless. 

 

Waiting would only make things worse and give the Institute more time to search for me if they were willing to risk it.

 

I climbed the rest of the way to the surface and, as my head broke the water, I pulled the MK18 up and began scanning my surroundings.

 

Nothing.

 

Nothing besides what was left of a highway about 30 meters east of me. 

 

That didn’t necessarily mean I hadn’t been followed, the Coursers’ active camouflage was very good, but again, standing around wouldn’t do me any good.

 

As soon as I had good footing, I bolted from the river and across the broken roadway. On the other side were a few buildings that were mostly destroyed. That wasn’t a surprise considering their proximity to the detonation site to the southwest. 

 

Now that I’m out of the forest, and most likely free of an imminent tail, I slowed to my normal pace. Sticking to what shadows I could, I slipped along the east side of the highway toward the looming corpse of Boston a half dozen klicks north. 

 

How am I going to handle this now? I don’t doubt the Institute will have positioned forces at the southern edges of the city, trying to guess where I might go. If they think I made my way into the city in the river, they’ll have placed forces along it, blocking off any egress. If I can make it to the edge of the city in time…

 

There’s a chance I could catch their forces by surprise. 

 

But what good would that do? If they sent Synths after me, they won’t give me any information.

 

Ducking under the roof of a destroyed house, I paused to scan the area.

 

This isn’t about information, not yet anyway. They clearly set this up to trap me again. I don’t doubt, after finding out I survived, they prepared specifically to fight me. While they may be able to somehow mimic physical capabilities, there are some things you can’t program into a Synth. Some things you only gain through experience. 

 

Whatever their plan is here, I need to make sure they stay out of the way, at least for a few more days.

 

I left the house and began toward the city once again.

 

That means it’s time to show them the difference between someone who’s programmed to fight, and someone who’s lived for it.

 

It’s time to hunt the would-be hunters.

Chapter 52: Let's Play a Game

They’ve gotten better…

 

No matter how good someone is, there are almost always signs of passage. In this case, it was disturbed dust and rubble. The problem for the Institute was their Synths, while decent, were far from good . Their ambush positions were too formulaic. It wouldn't make sense for them to send their regular forces after me. That meant there would be Coursers in the area too. 

 

That being said, the standard combat Synths' positions were alright for (relatively) conventional fighters. 

 

It had been three hours since I climbed out of the river. I spent most of that time searching for Institute forces. I spotted six positions so far. Each was within sight of at least two others. Four of them were in crumbling structures directly on the river, two others were hidden on the shoreline. Since I couldn’t visually confirm their positions, I’d guess those two teams were Coursers. 

 

Their cover, visual contact with each other, and overlapping fields of fire suggested there may only be those six. I’m not going to count on it. They know I'm alive and have for the better part of two weeks. If Nate is anything, it’s careful. Someone doesn’t survive almost two decades of combat any other way. 

 

As far as I can tell, the fight between the Brotherhood and Institute ended shortly after I reached the south end of downtown Boston. There was no way of knowing who won, but I don’t think the Institute’s goal was to take a bite out of the Brotherhood. With these teams out here looking for me, I’m thinking that was a distraction, and their real target was me.

 

Me and the Railroad.

 

Now, having teammates I have to worry about, I was itching to contact Glory and get a status update. That’s a new feeling. While operating with Fourier’s fireteam, we were almost always in contact on secure channels.

 

There are no secure comm channels here. The only people who may have them are the Institute, and they’re the ones coming after me.

 

But if the Institute has the equipment needed to triangulate a transmission, I can’t allow them to find me. I definitely can’t allow them to find the Railroad. They’ve survived against the Institute for a long time. They have security protocols in place for events like this. I just hope I pulled enough attention away from them. 

 

Now the question is what to do next. It was almost 0400 and the sun would be up in a few hours. I haven’t found any new positions for the last hour and 45 minutes. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any other positions. It doesn’t mean, if there aren’t, the Institute doesn’t have any other tricks up its sleeve.

 

How do I figure out what those are…?

 

Lying in the collapsed ruins of what at one point had been a gas station, my gaze flipped from known location to known location. The four buildings were all directly on the water’s edge. That probably wasn’t how they were built. If I had to guess, wind and water erosion degraded the shoreline that was now nearing their foundations. They were organized in pairs of two, each building they’d taken position in directly across from another. The only signs they were in there had been freshly disturbed rubble. After finding that, I caught a glimpse of Synths in two of the four positions. One was in a building on the east side of the river, top floor, or the uppermost floor that hadn’t crumbled into the water. There was another to their south on the opposite side of the river.

 

With the river gently bending to the left, going northeast, then turning north, those were the only ones I had clear sightlines on. Then there were the other two positions, probably rear-guards, that were most likely on the ground, both to the south of the others. The ones on the ground would be Coursers.

 

What I need to do is draw out a response without exposing myself or my position. 

 

But that doesn’t necessarily need to be this gas station. It isn’t a good one for engaging at least two of the Institute’s positions.

 

How do I get a response?

 

If they’re coming after me, I have to assume they’ve prepared for it. Nate’s seen me fight and, while he doesn’t have exact information on SPARTAN IIIs or Mjolnir armor, he’s smart enough to figure it out. That means they’ll likely have had him help their trainers strategize.

 

That means something cheap won’t work here, I need to give them something to think about. 

 

Gunfire… Anyone would react to gunfire. Now, that reaction would depend on its effectiveness. One thing I know Nate knows is I’m a good shot, and I wouldn’t take a shot unless I was going to hit it. Popping off a few rounds won’t pull out the response I want. If anything, they’ll pull out.

 

I don’t want them to pull out. Not before I have a chance to send a message.

 

While the target to the north, on my side of the river, was mostly obstructed by a piece of the building, both the MK18 and the McMillan would punch straight through what was left of the stonework. Both of those would also be a dead giveaway with their booming reports and massive muzzle flashes.

 

The only other firearm I have on me is my 10mm handgun and, at the 100 or so meters between that target and me, I don’t think I’d make that shot. It won't dig through that cover and I know, from my assault on Fort Hagen, it wouldn’t get through their armor.

 

But what if I don’t need to kill one of them to get a reaction? If they know I know where at least one of their positions is, most teams would assume I know where more are.

 

It’s a gamble, but if I do it right, it isn’t a gamble that puts me at risk. 

 

How do I remote fire a handgun?

 

The old fashion way: string.

 

String… That would work.

 

It was a calm night, with very little wind. It’s also cool out so the water and air should be close in temperature. That means little to no draft coming off the river. 100 meters with a 10mm handgun… 

 

Doing the math in my head as I went, I carefully, quietly, pulled a few of the pieces of rubble around me and arranged them so I could wedge the pistol in place between them. Another beneath the front to hold the barrel at the angle I wanted, aiming about 6 meters above my target, and one last piece against the rear to keep the recoil from flinging it backward.

 

Next was something I could use as string. It had to be long and have very little stretch. Wire would do nicely. 

 

It wasn't what I'd normally use wire for, but a trap is a trap. 

 

After wedging the handgun in place, I made a small loop with the wire and slipped it over the trigger. With the safety off, I crawled backward, unwinding the wire from its spool ahead of me. Ideally, I’d cross back to the west side of the river but I’d have to retreat far enough they wouldn’t be able to see me. I don’t know if there are patrols to my south.

 

There also isn’t enough wire on this spool.

 

No, the next best option would be to move to a position I can watch the ground teams from or where I think the ground teams are. 

 

That would work. 

 

I slipped away from the gas station and directly east. There were a few small collapsed buildings in the area but, for the most part, it was clear. After 20 meters, the building my handgun was targeting disappeared from view. I could still see the building across the water, so I was careful to stay low and away from any visual openings. The Institute might have moved teams into this area after I searched it too. 

 

30 seconds and 50 meters later, the spool came to its end. I found a position in another ruined building, this one a storefront. It wasn’t as far as I’d like, but it was as far as I’d be going. I could still see into the alleys the two ground teams were probably hiding in, using the shade against the moonlight and their active camo to avoid detection. Both were covered in rubble and creeping plants as well, giving anyone in it plenty of visual cover. 

 

No point in waiting.

 

Once I was in a position where I could still watch each of the three still visible positions, I yanked on the wire.

 

The unmanned handgun barked a round out.

 

When I pulled on it a second time, another report sounded.

 

Then a third.

 

The fourth time I did, the wire slipped. I felt it begin dragging across the ground. Whether the pistol had fallen out of my makeshift slot or the loop was no longer around the trigger didn’t matter. With my bait out of commission, I could only watch and wait.

 

There were countless responses; pulling out, any number of direct action tactics, hell they could even use explosives. Then there’s the possibilities their Molecular relay opened up. Considering how they’ve exploited it so far, that’s what I’d guess they’ll use. 

 

My former position wasn’t where I focused though. I pulled the MK18 to my shoulder and peered through its scope toward the alley directly ahead of me. When you’re looking for enemies using active camo, searching for the targets themselves is generally not helpful. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch a glimpse of one but I’ve found, through trial and error, it’s much more reliable to search for signs of movement. Hiding a human, or Sangheili, sized target is easy enough. Hiding moving foliage or puffs of dust from footsteps is almost impossible.

 

So, as a brilliant flash to my left illuminated the night, I caught the small cloud that kicked up from the rubble-strewn alley’s concrete surface. It was almost hard to miss in the white flash of a relay transit.

 

As my sights shifted from the ground to torso level, I waited for the second footstep to confirm their location. It came an instant later as the light faded and my finger squeezed my rifle’s trigger.

 

I was counting on two things: first, the blinding explosion of light would ruin the night vision of anyone looking in this direction, meaning my muzzle flash wouldn’t be as noticeable. The second was their tendency to use explosives as quick reaction measures. If they know where the gunfire came from, which it appears they do, they drop a bomb and try to blow me to hell.

 

The deafening blast came a heartbeat later as my rifle went off. I watched as the high-powered round hit something hard.

 

There was no time to appreciate the shot because the explosion’s shockwave was powerful enough to shake the precariously perched rubble of the building I was in. More than shake. A piece came down and slammed into the back of my shoulder. As more started collapsing around me, I scrambled backward out of what was left of the crumbling structure.

 

With what was left of it collapsing to the ground, I headed east toward another building. The small storefront, not unlike the one I’d left, would give me visual cover from the would-be ambushers and space to move north into the city. 

 

Now they have three options: hunker down, run, or flood the zone. They know I know where at least two of their positions were, which means, in their mind, I might know where all of them are. I sprung their trap and got away unscathed.

 

Keeping my stride silent against the broken concrete interspersed with rubble was difficult, especially when I was trying to cover a hundred meters in the few seconds’ distraction I had. In the end, I traded some stealth for speed. Making noise wouldn’t matter if I was caught in the open. They know I’m in the area, the goal is to keep them from learning exactly where I’m at. 

 

As I made it to another row of buildings that looked like they’d been apartments, I ducked in between two of them. My NVS illuminated the dark alley in a wash of twilight glow.

 

Nothing. The rubble was undisturbed and there was a thin layer of dirt across the ground. While it had a few older footprints that probably belonged to Feral Ghouls, it hadn’t been disturbed recently.

 

Good. 

 

More traps are a concern, especially considering the three hours they had to set anything up, but it’s unlikely they’d want to risk being seen doing so. 

 

At least so far, there weren’t any other teleporter flashes. That means they were probably staying put for now. It makes sense; dumping a large force here would only put more of their units at risk. It wasn’t just me they had to worry about. The Brotherhood was undoubtedly on high alert with what just happened in Quincy. Putting enough Synths in the area to canvas it would only draw more Brotherhood in-

 

The brilliant white explosion of light reflected off the buildings around me. 

 

Then another.

 

And a third.

 

Fourth.

 

Fifth.

 

More and more continued illuminating the night and I crept to a stop at the north end of the alley, peering out into the street.

 

What the hell?

 

One exploded directly in front of me. I snapped my eyes shut and backpedaled into the darkness of the narrow passage between apartments but my eyes were already swimming. 

 

So now they’re flooding the area with forces? Why? Why didn’t they do this the instant I set off their trap? Why were they bringing in so many?

 

That last question was pretty stupid.

 

I shook my head trying to get rid of the sunspots swirling around my vision. It was pointless, I know. 

 

If they keep doing this… How many would they be able to field? How many would they be willing to field? My mind raced to remember the layout of their teleporter bays as my feet carried me south again. Right now I need distance.

 

There were a half dozen they could use… but the Brotherhood had been able to teleport to random locations in their facility. On top of that, I’ve been teleported from random locations to their molecular relay bays. That may be the most reliable and efficient method, but if they want to, can they do without them?

 

The answer doesn’t matter all that much at this point. What’s important now is putting space between myself and an enemy force of unknown strength.

 

Sprinting east, the teleportations came to a stop, but I’d lost count at the ninth one that blinded me. 

 

At least nine teleportations, five or six Synths per transit, that means at a minimum there were 45 more out here. I never bet on a minimum. 

 

While that number is tolerable, I need to get into a better position to handle it.

 

Besides-

 

Besides , with that many relay signals, the Brotherhood would be hauling ass to get down here and figure out what’s going on. This may be on the opposite side of the city from them, but with the fight that went down at Quincy, and this level of activity, there’s no way any competent fighting force would leave this unattended.

 

And they’d be coming with force. 

 

A razor-sharp smile crept across my face as I turned north on a four-lane wide road with a few buildings collapsed across it. Did they do that on purpose? Did they send out mass transit signals to lure the Brotherhood here?

 

That is some seriously good planning if they did.

 

If that’s their play, they didn’t just start that fight in Quincy as a distraction for me, they did it to raise the alarm with the Brotherhood, and put them on high alert for something like this. 

 

From my time around Ayo, I don’t think he has the capacity to come up with a strategy with this many moving parts. Was it Nate? Brown and Weller were both intelligent if a bit stiff. They might be able to do something like this. 

 

Not important, I’m on the clock.

 

Right. Brotherhood probably incoming.

 

Much more careful to keep my feet clear of any debris and setting my armored boots down on the concrete as softly as I could, I continued north toward the more built-up areas of the city. I don’t have any safehouses nearby, but it will be much easier to lose any pursuers here.

 

The distant pounding of rotors echoed from the crumbling buildings around me. The Brotherhood weren’t just on high alert, they’d already scrambled quick reaction forces.

 

That clever bastard. If this was Nate-

 

“ AAAAAAAAAAGH! ”

 

The deep, nasally shout came from across the street to my right and I surged forward as gunfire poured out of a grocery store. It slammed into the building I’d just sprinted past, turning its front into flying chunks of brick and concrete. 

 

Irritation was already flickering in the back of my head.

 

Supermutants were the last thing it needed.

 

Fuck it.

 

My mind was telling me I should run, that turning to fight these bastards would waste time and draw more attention.

 

I’ve gotten a lot better at ignoring that voice of reason recently.

 

Spinning around, I sighted on the building they’d shot from. Most of the gunfire came from the first floor and, sure enough, my first victim lumbered out onto the street. It was a big green-yellow-skinned motherfucker wearing enough armor most regular humans would collapse beneath it. The chest plate looked like it had been from some sort of power armor while its legs and arms were wrapped in various steel plates. The thing’s head was partially covered by a helmet that looked like it had been made by a 12-year-old with a hammer, and it was carrying a minigun.

 

All of that armor, and the massive gun, didn’t mean much when the brainless Supermutant meandered into the street, swinging its weapon around without any clue where I might be.

 

The MK18 boomed and I watched as the shot collided with the thing’s left eye. Its ridiculous-looking helmet shot into the air as its head exploded in a fountain of blood. The red was intensified by my NVS so it appeared to almost glow in the night as the thing’s body tumbled to the ground.

 

Another pair followed it out, these two closer to what I’d come to expect: almost no armor and weapons that looked like they were barely functional. Before either could get off a shot, the first one’s head turned into another red explosion. The second roared as he pulled his rifle up, but he joined the other two without firing.

 

There’s no way of knowing how many are in there and, with how much shooting I’ve done, I only have three full magazines left. 

 

That minigun though… That was enticing. 

 

As the sound of pounding rotors began growing louder I ran forward, rifle still roughly aimed at the door the Supermutants had exited.

 

Just as I reached it, a fourth green-skinned monstrosity barreled out. I didn’t slow. 

 

The thing saw me bearing down on it and barely had time to swing a large club at me. Dropping my rifle to fall on its sling, I shunted the blow aside by grabbing its wrist with my right hand. I drove my left palm into the back of its elbow hard enough the joint exploded outward and, as I twisted around behind it, the Supermutant let out a piercing scream.

 

With my momentum already traveling across the doorway, I pulled my latest victim with me by its ruined arm and swept its legs out as I went. I drove myself down on top as the two of us crashed to the garbage strewn sidewalk. I felt more than heard several sharp snaps in the thing’s chest.

 

“ AUGAAAAAGH! ”

 

This time when it screamed, it came in a garbled mess. Blood sprayed from the thing’s disfigured mouth as its chest cavity collapsed.

 

Pounding footsteps came from inside the building and another group of Supermutants burst into the night as I sprang back to my feet. This must have been the group from the second floor.

 

I pulled my rifle up with my right hand and pumped two rounds into the first one’s chest. It died instantly, the second round blowing its spine apart just below its neck. The other two behind it didn’t seem to care though. They shoved their now dead comrade forward and, with the combined mass slamming into me, I stumbled backward and crashed to the ground. 

 

With the three large mutants on top of me, I couldn’t pull my rifle up. They were both already scrambling for their guns.

 

Releasing the rifle, my right hand shot to my knife. As I ripped it from its sheath, the first Supermutant managed to aim its sickly looking handgun down at my head.

 

Even if the round wouldn’t do much, instinct still screamed at me to do something- anything to get out of the line of fire. With a grunt of exertion, I managed to pull my right knee toward me and used the leverage to twist toward it. The gun went off a few centimeters from my head but the round missed. My shields still flared as shrapnel from the concrete exploded into me.

 

In retaliation, I swung my arm up and around, burying it in the Supermutant’s hand, blade facing down toward me.

 

It did exactly what I thought it would. 

 

Bellowing a wordless shout that was equal parts pain and rage, it jerked its arm back. The shout turned into another scream as the knife sliced through the bastard’s hand. Blood poured from the wound and its handgun dropped to the ground by my head.

 

That would be much easier to use in tight quarters.

 

My left hand scrambled for the pistol and, after a moment, I pulled it from the ground and aimed it back at its owner’s head.

 

While the handgun didn’t produce anywhere near as spectacular a result as the MK18, the hole it punched in the underside of the ting’s chin was enough to do the job. 

 

As I pulled the trigger, the second Supermutant did the same. It’s shot hit me in the right shoulder and my shields burst to life again. With two bodies between myself and it, I couldn’t pull my arm over far enough to aim at the thing.

 

Another round slammed into my head while I struggled with the half ton of dead weight on top of me. 

 

By the time the third round went off though, I’d managed to pull my left knee up to my chest. I used it as leverage to shove the two dead Supermutants toward the last living member of the little group. When they impacted, it threw the aim of the thing’s fourth shot off. Momentum was on my side now. I braced my left arm against the sidewalk beneath me and continued twisting. With a surprised yelp, the Supermutant tumbled off of me and I rolled to my left. 

 

I didn’t bother trying to stand. Instead, I pulled the confiscated handgun up as my spin brought me back around to face the last Supermutant and put a round through its left eye. 

 

Now the sound of Vertibirds was close. If I had to guess, they were within half a klick of me, flying low since I couldn’t see them yet.

 

Not much time.

 

Scrambling to my feet, I dragged the first Supermutant I killed, the one with the heavy armor and minigun, inside and pulled the massive ammo pack from its back. The thing was unwieldy, but it had been designed to fit over this universe’s version of power armor. Mjolnir is bulky, but it has nothing on T-60. The problem was the McMillan on my back.

 

I’ll just have to make do. 

 

With the pack slung over one shoulder, I snatched the gun from the ground and slipped back outside. Using weapons this cumbersome isn’t usually something I go for, but with what’s about to happen, having high volume suppressing fire will be useful. 

 

The Vertibirds sounded like they were directly over where the Institute had tried to ambush me.

 

No laser fire.

 

Those bastards had done this to draw the Brotherhood to me.

 

Even though I’m the one who was baited into a trap, I couldn’t help but be impressed. That’s something I’d do- something I intend to do. It wasn’t anything original, but all the same…

 

It wasn’t more than a few seconds before the VTOLs fanned out in a search pattern. I’d barely managed to make it to the next intersection to the north before a pair of the bulbous aircraft appeared over the broken buildings to my right. 

 

Squeezing the trigger on my new toy, I pulled it around. As the barrels got to full speed, it began peppering the right Vertibird with a hail of small caliber rounds. 

 

They weren’t heavy enough to take either aircraft down, but I watched as a burst slammed into the canopy over the co-pilot. Before either could pull up, the thick reinforced glass was turned into a tapestry of cracks. I continued spraying rounds into the thing’s underside as the pair of Vertibirds buzzed over me. Nothing made it through.

 

And now they know I’m here. 

 

Again.

 

There were two differences though. First: I’m not in the middle of the wilderness this time. I’m in the city which makes things more dangerous for them. Second: I have a weapon that can get through their canopy. 

 

On top of that, I have the element of surprise. They don’t know I’ve got the right hardware to drop one of their birds. As far as they’re aware, the best anti-air weapon I have is the minigun.

 

Best to keep it that way until I get the right opportunity. 

 

Pounding rotors came from all around me. It was impossible to tell exactly how many Vertibirds they sent after the Institute. 

 

Question is are they willing to use the task force they’d sent after Synths to track me? I’d be a little disappointed if they weren’t. They have numbers, more than they did the last time this happened. 

 

I moved as quickly as I could without dislodging the ammo pack from my shoulder. They probably wouldn’t bring that now-damaged Vertibird back around, which means the next attack will be coming from a different direction. 

 

This time though, I’m not running. Just like with the Institute, I want to send a message. It’s been a few weeks since I ambushed them in the hospital. It seems I need to remind them both they can’t come after me half cocked. 

 

The Institute didn’t. They executed a well-thought-out plan and only lost one of their Synths. To me at least.

 

As I reached another intersection, I caught a glimpse of something rushing toward me from the west-

 

Feral Ghouls. 

 

There were 4 of them, 30 meters away.

 

They didn’t get another five meters before the minigun turned them into pulp in the street. 

 

Just as I was turning back around, two more Vertibirds started a strafing run toward me. They were heading directly north on the street I’d just run up. Neither had their bellies more than 10 meters above the buildings beneath them. Both were coming in fast, turbines whining and rotors beating the air.

 

No sooner had I turned toward them than their chin guns started belching rounds at me. The first few crashed into the asphalt about 20 meters ahead. With how fast they were going, those would be hitting me in a heartbeat.

 

No time to bring the minigun up. I threw myself to the side and the stream of projectiles slammed into the pavement.

 

There wasn’t any time to recover though. There was another flight directly behind them.

 

Shit.

 

This is why I don’t like large, cumbersome weapons…

 

Dropping the minigun, I twisted to the side as those two VTOLs opened up as well. The weapon took a direct hit from one of the aircraft. It must have hit somewhere hard because, instead of exploding, the impact sent the weapon skittering across the pavement.

 

Not that it would be useful again.

 

As I continued my roll, I allowed the ammo pack to slip off of my shoulder. 

 

One of those pilots was good though. 

 

Two of the high powered rounds caught me as they flew by, one glancing off of my left leg, and another off of my back. Neither were direct hits, but the impacts were enough to drain my shields by a quarter. 

 

A quick scan of the sky around me confirmed there were no other Vertibirds on approach, but that wouldn’t last. The air was still humming with the thud of rotors while dirt and dust were being kicked into the air. At best I have ten seconds before I get hit by another strafe. Unlike last time, they were here in force and going for the kill. 

 

They aren’t the only ones.

 

With the clock in my head ticking, I sprang to my feet, unclamping the McMillan. I need better cover. They weren’t prepared to find me on the first go around. Those pilots will be this time. 

 

The pitch of pounding rotors to my east increased. They were heading toward me again.

 

No time. Good cover would have to wait. I lunged for the nearest building, a four story brick and stone structure to my left. As I skid to a stop, I checked to make sure there was a round in the chamber and clicked the safety off. 

 

No time for anything fancy. This next pass is about who’s the better shot.

 

That’s a bet I’ll take.

 

Wheeling around, I dropped to a knee and peered through the scope as the pair of Vertibirds appeared over the buildings ahead of me. As soon as they were in sight, the pair of chin guns began chugging and concrete kicked up around me.

 

Time slowed to a crawl as I centered my sights on the bulbous left cockpit window. It seemed like the fast moving aircraft were almost frozen in place, hovering over the rooftops. Their guns flash bright in the night sky and, if it weren’t for my armor’s advanced NVS, it would have played hell with my aim.

 

They were maybe 200 meters away and closing.

 

I shifted my aim up, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

 

With a muzzle flash that lit the street around me and blast that threw dirt up from the broken concrete, the rifle sent one of its massive rounds toward the Vertibird to my right. An instant later, it crashed into the reinforced glass canopy and, this time, punched straight through.

 

The Vertibird wobbled and the gunfire pouring from its chin gun ceased-

 

But it didn’t go down. The VTOL steadied itself and began climbing.

 

Had I missed? Had the copilot taken over?

 

It didn’t matter, not yet. What matters is the other aircraft was still shooting at me. 

 

As my right hand racked the bolt, I shifted to my left, back out into the street. I felt one of its rounds scream through the spot I’d just vacated. 

 

My finger tightened around the rifle’s trigger and it sent another round down range. An instant after I fired, the Vertibird’s chin gun hit my left shoulder. My shields flared in protest and the force of the impact spun my aim away.

 

This time, the damage was done.

 

I watched as the VTOL nosed over and slammed into the broken street. It plowed through the rusted remains of cars, throwing up debris as it carved a massive furrow in the pavement. 

 

There was no time to admire my handiwork.

 

Throwing myself back toward the building, I dove inside its crumbling interior. A few seconds later, the Vertibird churned through the spot I’d just been standing. 

 

That fall wasn’t far. If there had been anyone in power armor, they may have survived the impact.

 

With another round in the chamber, I slipped back out into the street and ran after the downed aircraft. There were small fires in the engine pods and, even from here, I could see the cockpit had been crushed by the crash, but the Vertibird’s structure was still largely intact. 

 

From the sounds of it, the others were still buzzing the area, but none of them came on another strafe. With two of their aircraft damaged and one downed, they probably didn’t want to risk more. 

 

How long will that last? How long until they realize they can’t keep losing resources to me piece by piece?

 

Slowing as I approached the Vertibird, I scanned the wreck for signs of life.

 

In unison, the pitch of the pounding rotors increased. 

 

Maybe that’s now.

 

But it wasn’t. The concussions began heading north. Fast .

 

What the hell? That’s new. Even when they’ve stopped assaults before, they don’t usually pull out entirely, especially like this. Their SOP is to slow down and set up a net. 

 

Figure that out after I secure the crash site.

 

Sounds, something heavy hitting metal, came from the downed VTOL. And again. So I was right, at least someone survived the impact.

 

As I approached the Vertibird, I swung wide around it, hugging the left side of the street. At this range, the high powered scope on the McMillan was a liability, but it’s more point and shoot now. 

 

Whatever was moving in there did so again. It was more than one again.

 

I drew even with the door of the passenger compartment-

 

And ducked beneath a burst of laser fire. 

 

The McMillan boomed and its massive round punched through the helmet of a power armored Brotherhood soldier. They were trying their best to hide behind part of the Vertibird’s door jam, but that bulky armor was working against them.

 

They tumbled to the steel deck with a heavy thud and I caught sight of three more armored forms. Two of them were motionless, the third was stuck. They were pinned by the bulkhead between the cockpit and the passenger compartment. It had collapsed on the soldier’s left leg, which was now buried beneath it. The limb was bent at an extremely unnatural angle. 

 

While the armored figure continued struggling weakly to free themselves, I slowly approached the VTOL. The soldier seemed oblivious to my presence and, as I got within half a dozen meters of the opening, I paused.

 

“Stop”, I commanded. 

 

The soldier didn’t respond.

 

Grabbing a chunk of broken concrete from the ground, I hurled it at the soldier. It hit them in the side of the head with a deep thud .

 

That got them to stop.

 

“Wh- what?!” they barked, head snapping to me. It was a man, older by the sounds of it.

 

They sounded angry. And confused. That kind of injury, they were probably in shock.

 

Now I have a prisoner, someone I can interrogate, but what do I ask? Do I have time to ask anything? Yes, the Institute baited a trap for me, but they could still be hanging around to see what happens.

 

“Why did your people retreat?”

 

His helmet cocked at me.

 

“What?” The soldier sounded more confused than angry now.

 

“The other Vertibirds pulled out. Why?”

 

“Uh… well… they’re heading back to Cambridge I think.”

 

Cambridge? That’s on the other side of the city, why would they be retreating there?

 

“Why?”

 

“Because the Institute is attacking.” The way he said it, it’s like he thought that was the most obvious thing on the planet. It isn’t like I have access to their comms traffic anymore.

 

The Institute hit Cambridge. 

 

Wow.

 

This wasn’t a trap for me, I was the bait. This is a trap for the Brotherhood. They just needed me to give them something to chase, if only for a little while, as they staged an attack on the small town. 

 

Whoever set this up, I have to give them credit. That’s a very good plan. They make sure I’m out of the way and remove a few high value pieces from the Brotherhood’s board before the start of the attack. They took advantage of the threat I pose and the Brotherhood command’s tendency toward aggression. 

 

That doesn’t mean they aren’t still in the area. It only takes a few Coursers to keep tabs on me while they assault Cambridge.

 

And I’d like more answers.

 

The problem is my ‘interviewee’ is trapped in the Vertibird. It looked like the bulkhead buckled inward as the nose of the VTOL folded in on itself. The soldier’s leg was mangled enough the bone is probably powder, but the frame of the power armor is still in one piece. I could probably pry the crushed bulkhead out of the way given enough time…

 

Is this worth the risk?

 

He might have intel on why the Brotherhood is dedicating resources elsewhere. He might know something about Haylen. 

 

Dammit.

 

I collected a dozen or so pieces of debris I could use as levers. Everything from rebar to parts broken off of the Vertibird. 

 

“Make any sudden moves”, I said as I ducked into the mangled aircraft, “you lose your head.”

 

After getting a nod of understanding, I began jamming my makeshift pry bars under the bulkhead, a few of them between the soldier’s ruined leg and the steel.

 

The first two lengths of rebar bent uselessly, but the third piece, what looked like part of a rotor, held up. The crumpled bulkhead groaned as it bent away from the soldier’s leg a few centimeters. That’s as far as I was able to get before the rotor snapped. 

 

It took the better part of five minutes, and another trip to collect ‘tools’, but I bent the warped metal far enough the soldier was able to pull himself free.

 

The instant he moved though, he let out a strangled shout. The shock and adrenaline must have worn off. 

 

My internal clock was screaming at me; there was a (relatively) massive battle going on north of the city, the Institute played both me and the Brotherhood, and they may still have eyes in the area. I need to get moving and I don’t have time to wait for this asshole to pull himself out of the wreckage. 

 

Grabbing the large handle on the front of his armor, I dragged the man out of the Vertibird and toward a building on the north side of the street. He screamed the entire way. 

 

It wasn’t a concern; his screaming wouldn’t attract any more attention than the gunfight and crash had.

 

Once we were in the mostly intact three story building, and I checked to make sure it was clear, I returned to the injured soldier. 

 

He had propped himself against a wall and was staring at his leg. Even with the armor to support it, his broken femur and destroyed knee were clear as day. His thigh was twisted with an extra join a few centimeters below the hip, and his knee was turned in the wrong direction. He’s lucky, a femur break like that could easily sever the femoral artery. Given how long he survived, and the fact he’s still conscious, that probably hadn’t happened.

 

What to ask first? Troop movements? No… if it comes down to it, I can figure that out on my own.

 

Haylen.

 

“What do you know about Scribe Haylen?”

 

The soldier’s head snapped up to me. “Scribe Haylen?” I nodded. “She…” He trailed off.

 

“Why do you want to know?” the man asked. His voice was still stricken with pain, but there was anger in it now.

 

I almost asked if they bought I’d tortured her. Maybe I could have, but it might be a better idea to keep things under wraps unless absolutely necessary. It’s possible he still has some way of communicating with his leadership.

 

“Your people went to Sanctuary to recover her. I want to know where she was taken.”

 

He didn’t reply immediately. The armored man instead stared at me and, even though I couldn’t see his face, it wasn’t hard to imagine the furious stare.

 

“You tortured her”, he said. “You forced her to tell you about Danse.” 

 

While encouraging, that doesn’t mean the Brotherhood leadership has bought it. Groups like the Brotherhood mislead their members as much as everyone else. The best way to keep people in line is to tell them what they want to hear. Usually that means lying to them. It would be easier for their soldiers to hear Haylen had been captured and tortured than the truth, which was she ran after finding out about who the Brotherhood really is.

 

“You’re aware Danse is a Synth?” I asked.

 

The soldier nodded curtly. “A Synth sent to infiltrate our ranks, to spy on or even destroy us. It’s why Elder Maxson wishes to rid the world of them. Humanity can’t coexist with them, especially when they can be anyone, anywhere… Even Danse…”

 

All of that felt like regurgitated propaganda. It was pretty obvious their leadership fed them those lines. Hell, they managed to turn this situation into something they could use to further reinforce their dogma. Not surprising, I’ve seen it before.

 

There was something else there though, in the way he said “Even Danse.” It was the same way Haylen had talked about the former Paladin. 

 

“You knew Danse?”

 

After another short pause, the Brotherhood soldier nodded slowly. “I did. He trained me back in the Capital Wasteland when I joined.”

 

Danse trained this guy? Danse couldn’t have been more than mid-30s. The man in front of me sounded a lot older than that. 

 

“You’re older than Danse. You joined late?”

 

There was another hesitation before the man answered. “Why does that matter?”

 

It was my turn to take a moment to think. Why did it matter?

 

The night outside was still quiet. I did a quick scan of the debris strewn interior of the large room before returning my gaze to my captive. 

 

Why does it matter when he joined? That he joined late?

 

Why did he join?

 

“Why did you join?” I asked.

 

“I-” he started before a groan cut whatever he was going to say off. He grabbed for his ruined leg and, after a few moments, let out a pained breath. Even with the helmet on, I could hear it force its way through his clenched jaw. 

 

“I joined to protect my family”, he ground out eventually. “Why else would I join?”

 

He joined to protect his family… That’s a good start. 

 

“Protect them from what?”

 

“From things like you”, he spat, voice angry once again.

 

“Things?” I cocked my head at him. “I’m not here to hurt your family.”

 

The soldier shook his head. “No, but you’re here to fight the Brotherhood. We protect people from the dangers of the wastes. Keep dangerous technology away from people that would hurt others.”

 

More dogma. What had Deacon said about the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland? They’d wiped out the Supermutant population, which I’m fine with. They’d also eliminated Ghouls. Ferals weren’t much different from the aggressive animals around Boston, but the regular ones… I haven’t met too many, they seem like regular people to me.

 

“From what I know, the Brotherhood’s done more than that in the Capital Wasteland. Anything that isn’t ‘human’ gets eliminated.”

 

Another pause. This is starting to make sense; the soldier had joined the Brotherhood because he thought it was the best way to protect the people he cares about. It doesn’t sound like he’s bought into how the Brotherhood does that, at least not completely. The way he regurgitates what his command and, probably, fellow soldiers say seems like he’s trying to convince himself of it.

 

Had Haylen been right? Are these people, at least some of them, just trapped by a group that gives them something to rally behind even if it’s founded on, like Deacon said, fear?

 

“There are some things we do I don’t agree with, but the Capital Wastes are safer today because of the Brotherhood’s efforts.”

 

While I’m sure that’s true, the question is safer for who? Safer for the people who follow along? I’ve had enough experience being the one to make sure dissidents can’t expand to know it isn’t safe for them. Granted, most of the dissidents I went after were much more actively harmful to humanity at large. 

 

Most of them…

 

From the sounds of it, the Brotherhood goes after anyone who they don’t like.

 

“Do you agree Danse is a danger to the Brotherhood?”

 

“Yes”, the soldier replied without hesitation, almost as though the response was automatic. 

 

“Even given what he’s done for it?”

 

“He’s a Synth.”

 

I cocked my head. That’s one way to make people think: give them an enemy, convince them that enemy is inherently evil. If you do that, you’ll never have to worry about justifying what you do to that enemy. You get to put anyone you disagree with under that banner too.

 

“He is, and he’s still done more for the Brotherhood than almost anyone else”, I said.

 

The soldier didn’t respond, only stared at me from his spot sitting against the wall. 

 

This ‘interrogation’ had turned into more of a conversation and, with what’s probably happening at Cambridge, I don’t have time to continue it. Then there’s the possibility of Institute forces remaining in the area. 

 

What do I do with this guy though? Normally the answer would be to kill him. If he’s telling the truth, this is probably one of those people Haylen was talking about. He disagrees with the direction the Brotherhood is going, but goes along because he doesn’t have another choice. If we’re going all in with this insane plan of trying to spread disillusion in their ranks, would leaving him alive be a good idea? He doesn’t know anything that could compromise me, doesn’t know Haylen cooperated with me. At the end of the day, he’s only one more Brotherhood soldier, one that won’t be combat effective anymore unless they have much better prosthetic technology than I’ve seen. 

 

Now leaving enemy combatants alive is a regular occurrence?

 

If it serves a purpose, yes.

 

“Do you have comms?”

 

The soldier cocked his head at me. “What?”

 

“Is that suit equipped with a radio?”

 

“Yes”, he said after a slight hesitation.

 

“Good. Once I’m gone, radio for pickup.”

 

There was a note of disbelief in the silence that followed.

 

“You’re leaving me alive?”

 

“Yes”, I nodded.

 

“Why?”

 

“There’s no point in killing you.” I scanned the room again. “I’d do it soon, there are probably Institute forces in the area.”

 

With that, I turned and marched out of the building back into the early morning. The sun would be up in a few hours. Whatever fighting there was going on in Cambridge would be done by then. Hell, it would probably be done before I got there. It’s possible the Institute takes the town, but I doubt it, even with a half dozen of the Brotherhood’s Vertibirds distracted. It’s the second most heavily defended base they have and, if it was in danger, the Brotherhood would scramble as many resources as needed to keep it safe. If the Institute did take it, they’d cripple their own fighting force. At that point, if the Brotherhood has a way to get into the Institute, this war would be over.

 

Even if I won’t be there for the fighting, I can study the aftermath. I don’t want to go there unprepared though. My eyes drifted to the wrecked Vertibird. They’ll have some ordinance in there, right? 

 

Between the three dead soldiers and, from the looks of the uniform, one dead crew member whose head had been smashed open by a bulkhead, I found two hand grenades. There was a munitions box as well, but it hadn’t been secured properly and broke free in the crash. Its contents were destroyed beyond use. That’s something else they need to learn; a crewmember that had been thrown hard enough in the impact, their head turned into a modern art piece on the wall of the Vertibird, and an unsecured crate. A crew chief would have had someone’s ass if they saw that.

 

It would have to do, I don’t have time to detour to any of my supply dumps. The fighting started around five minutes ago, the journey will take another two hours. I need to get moving.

 

X

 

My estimate was a little off. By the time I had the prefab walls of Cambridge in sight, almost two and a half hours had passed. That was mostly because I had to backtrack to the west side of the city when I ran across a large group of Supermutants. As much as I wanted to attack them, I didn’t have the time or the ammunition to do it. The sky was beginning to brighten from black to a deep blue. The sun would be up in about 40 minutes. 

 

The Brotherhood soldier had been telling the truth. 

 

There were plenty of new laser scoring marks around the small town’s perimeter and, from a quick count, I saw at least 50 bodies outside the wall. Most of them had been hit in the no man’s land they’d cleared around the base. The roads even had some new craters in them. Most looked like they were formed by smaller munitions like grenades. A few were larger and directional, probably rocket impacts.

 

Despite everything, the town was still in Brotherhood control. Power armored soldiers were pacing the battlements and four Vertibirds flying patrols overhead. Two of the VTOLs were on the ground, smoking and destroyed. It was impossible for me to tell what brought the first one down; the wreck was about 200 meters north of Cambridge. It had come to rest after plowing a 50 meter furrow through the dirt and rocks. The second one had pancaked to the ground, narrowly avoiding a mostly collapsed five story building just west of their perimeter. The front of the aircraft looked like it had melted . Concentrated laser fire? What the hell does the Institute have that could do something like that?

 

Whatever hit that was something I didn’t want to get caught by. 

 

There were a few dozen people around that crash, most in T-60. Those that weren’t were stripping the thing for parts.

 

More than anything, I wanted to get inside the town and see what kind of damage the Institute had managed to do in there. They love their tactic of dropping directly into the opposition’s position, especially when they lead it off with explosives. I have to admit, it’s an extremely powerful tool, especially when it can happen at any time. My question is have the Brotherhood figured out how to jam it yet? For such an advanced technology, to be susceptible to something as simple as a radio jammer… it seems like that shouldn’t be as easy as it is.

 

That brought me to another question. Studying the bodies of dead Synths strewn around the perimeter, and the few dozen I found in the woods and buildings beyond, it looked like the Institute had gotten its ass handed to it. Yes, they dropped two Vertibirds and I don’t know what casualties they inflicted on the infantry, but almost 100 lost units, to not take the town or do any appreciable damage to its fortifications was a waste. 

 

Unless, of course, there was an objective I didn’t see. And then there’s the fact the Institute doesn’t care about how many Synths it loses since it can always make more. 

 

As the sky began turning a dull pink to the east, I more carefully examined the town. Was the Brotherhood acting strange? Their patrols were heavy, and most of them concentrated around Cambridge. The Vertibirds were flying in pairs over the town and staying within a few hundred meters of it at any given time. It was normal tactics when a fortified position is expecting an attack to consolidate forces. Hell, even those Raiders at the base to the north had gotten that right when I freed Danse. Eventually. 

 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Had the Institute made a mistake?

 

My eyes drifted back to the scattered, dead Synths in the streets and fields around Cambridge.

 

There’s no way they organized something like this, two different decoys and using me as a lure to fail like this.

 

What’s your play, Nate?

 

And something else struck me as odd: the Institute had to have been waiting for me to make a move like Quincy. Their timing was too convenient to be coincidental, which means they knew I was involved. If they knew I was involved, it’s unlikely they missed the Railroad’s involvement.

 

As far as I know, they didn’t hit the Railroad’s headquarters.

 

Of course, it’s possible Glory’s team had managed to slip anyone tracking them.

 

My hand went to my satchel where the radio was sitting.

 

Contacting them would be a good idea. If something has happened, I need to find out.

 

Doing it here would be a bad idea. I don’t know if the Brotherhood has triangulation equipment in the area, but with how keyed up they are right now, I don’t want to find out.

 

While I slipped away from Cambridge heading north into the forest, my mind raced. What was their objective? Why such an elaborate plan? Why so many moving parts? Why use me as a trigger? 

 

By the time I’d gone half a dozen kilometers, the sun was above the horizon and beginning its daily climb into a cloudy sky. 

 

That would be far enough for now.

 

I pulled the radio from my satchel and pressed the transmit button.

 

As I opened my mouth to talk, I froze. I was about to call for Glory, but on the off chance the Institute didn’t know about their involvement, I don’t want to confirm it. 

 

They probably know.

 

Better safe than sorry.

 

“MacCready, what’s your status?”

 

Nothing. The silence didn’t mean anything, unfortunately.

 

“MacCready”, I repeated, “what’s your status?”

 

Still nothing.

 

My eyes were scanning the forest around me, watching for any potential contacts. My small rock outcropping wasn’t ideal cover, but it had good sightlines down the hill I was taking cover on.

 

“I hear you Damon”, the response came. It was the former mercenary. I breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re good. Last night got hairy, we were being chased by some Synths and what Glory called a Courser. Lost them a few hours ago.”

 

They lost a Courser? Killing the bastards is one thing, but if I can say anything for the specialized Synths, it’s they’re attentive and persistent. Losing one that’s tracking you wouldn’t be easy.

 

Maybe I’m not giving these people the credit they deserve. Between the cluster that was last night and getting away from a squad tracking them in the middle of that chaos, they did well.

 

Very well. 

 

But that also means the Institute knows they’re involved. If they hadn’t before, that is. I can deal with the implications of that later. Maybe Deacon can shed some light on what the Institute may have been trying to accomplish with their little stunt last night. 

 

“We need to regroup.” 

 

“That’s probably a good idea, we aren’t going back to the bunker.”

 

And I can’t go back to Sanctuary… Where else can we meet? Somewhere secure that I don’t have to name. I’m not going to take any chances that someone might be listening in on our conversation.

 

“Damon”, a voice came over the radio. It was Deacon now. “We can meet where you first met Preston.”

 

I blinked. They’d been thinking the same thing? That’s good.

 

How the hell did Deacon know about Concord? The museum?

 

He was in Sanctuary for a few days while I was gone. He wouldn’t be a very good intel officer if he didn’t figure out everything he could about me.

 

It’s also possible he found out another way. The Railroad agent always seemed to know more than he should.

 

Concord wasn’t far from me. I was northwest of Cambridge, I just need to head directly east a half dozen kilometers and I’d be there.

 

“Affirmative. I’ll be there in an hour.”

 

That would give me enough time to take it slow and make sure I'm not followed. As far as I know we aren’t on a clock, an extra half hour to scout the town won’t hurt anyone.

 

Well, anyone I don’t want to be hurt.

 

And I don’t know where they are, it might take them longer than that to-

 

“That works for us, we’ll meet you there”, the Railroad agent responded.

 

Alright then, it was time to move.

 

Almost as soon as I began east, I was attacked. 

 

At the base of the hill, while I was crossing a small ravine that looked like it had, at one point, been a narrow river, rustling beneath an undergrowth ahead of me caught my attention.

 

From it burst a trio of wild dogs, snarling and barking as they charged toward me. Because that’s what I need when I’m trying to get through the forest unnoticed. 

 

Guns were out considering the circumstances. I pulled my knife from its sheath as the first dog lunged at me. Once it was clear, I swung my left fist and it crashed into the side of the animal's head with a dull thud . The blow hadn’t been hard enough to kill it, but the dog spun away from me, yelping.

 

The other two weren’t as aggressive as the first. Whether that’s because they just saw it get hammered or they’re a little better at planning, I don’t know. Whatever the case, I don’t have the patience to entertain whatever game they’re playing. 

 

Lunging forward, I slashed my knife toward the dog on the right as it tried to circle around me. It wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blade as I drove it into the side of its neck. It went limp almost immediately and blood began seeping around the blade.

 

With both of its friends out of commission, the last dog seemed to figure out this fight was a losing battle. It turned and sprinted away through the forest. That’s the first time I’ve seen that happen. Chasing the animal down would have been a waste of time. Not like that dog is going to report my position to the Institute or Brotherhood. 

 

After taking a moment to finish the first one, still down and writhing, I resumed my journey toward Concord.

 

I maintained a faster-than-normal pace. It was just fast enough anyone following me would have a very hard time keeping up without making sound. It had the added benefit of coving ground faster, which gave me more time to check my rear.

 

There were a half dozen times I had to cross roads, which was irritating. I spent almost a minute at each, double and triple checking every position I could. Both the Institute and Brotherhood have been after me in the last 5 hours and Shaun has decided now is a good time to go active. It’s the first large scale operation they’ve engaged in since the hospital. It was going to happen eventually, it’s just aggravating they were waiting on me to trigger their action. 

 

They were using me.

 

Concord came into sight a little over 20 minutes after I started east. It didn’t look any different than the last time I laid eyes on it. The buildings were still crumbling, the streets were cracked, and the whole town looked like it was a strong wind away from being erased.

 

Goddamn… that felt like another lifetime.

 

The forest had been thinning for the last klick and by the time I was within a few hundred meters of the town, it was field. 

 

When I was here the last time, that large field and waste high brown grass was an obstacle. It meant I had to cross a massive killing field in an unknown environment with no intel. Now, potentially being tracked by cloaked Coursers, that grass would be invaluable. You might be able to bend light, but you can’t pass through matter. 

 

The overcast sky continued brightening to an orangish hue. I started across the field, head on a swivel for potential threats. There wasn’t time or reason to bother with anything fancy, I crossed to the town at a run.

 

Problem is, anyone tailing me doesn’t have to follow. All they need to know is that I’m in Concord. If they’re able to follow the other team, it won’t matter anyway.

 

Even if my jammer hadn’t been destroyed by spending half an hour in that river, its battery was long used up. That means if the Institute did track us here, they’ll be able to teleport in wherever they want.

 

Nearing the town, I ran the layout through my head. Or what I remembered of it. That was a while ago and I’d probably been dealing with a severe concussion at the time. The museum, at the center of town, was a large, sturdy structure that, despite its ruined interior, had held up well. The auxiliary entrances would still be sealed unless someone broke the handles off.

 

Once I passed the first row of ruined buildings, I slowed and slipped into the long shadows cast by them. There were about 35 minutes until I said I’d meet the others. That time would be crucial to scouting. 

 

The town was too large to do it thoroughly before the time was up, but I don’t need to. What I need to do is make sure the area around the museum is clear and safe. 

 

Keeping as quiet as I could, careful to avoid the debris, gravel, and shards of glass scattered across the street, I made my way toward my objective. It was odd being back here after all this time. The funny part is it wasn’t that long ago, just a few months. It feels like a different lifetime. Like that was a different person.

 

Maybe it was.

 

Would the person I’d been when I woke up have done everything I had over the past few weeks? Thrown away my chance of getting back to UNSC space. Instead, helping a group of strangers establish a home and fight a war I have no stake in?

 

No, he wouldn’t have. Pride flickered through my chest for an instant before I squelched it. I did the right thing- made the right choice, but right now I need to focus on the task at hand. I need to make sure that choice wasn’t for nothing. That starts by making sure the Institute isn’t able to take advantage of this rendezvous. 

 

Concord was just as dilapidated as I remember seeing it my first day in this destroyed facsimile of Earth. Most of the buildings were falling apart if they hadn’t already collapsed into nothing. None of them had all their walls and roof intact. What paint was left had faded into gray or brown, and the streets were more crack than pavement. 

 

When I reached the main street leading toward my objective, I half expected to see the mangled remains of the first victims of my presence here. I should have known better. There were a few very faded stains on the street where I’d landed in the group of Raiders, but the bodies were gone. They were most likely picked off by scavengers, like those dogs I’d run into in the forest. 

 

Either way, it didn’t matter. I need to focus on my current objective: scouting the area.

 

After 25 minutes of slipping in and out of houses, through alleys, and checking every space I could find, nothing except for a duo of feral ghouls, which I dealt with quietly, and a few animals were around. 

 

It was a bit odd a place like this wouldn’t be settled, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. The town was large, even larger than Cambridge. Any settlement established here would have to have around the same population as Diamond City. Why do that if Diamond City and Goodneighbor already exist? If they’re already secure?

 

Five minutes later, my radio squawked.

 

“Damon”, Glory said, “we’re nearing the rendezvous.”

 

“Copy, I’ll be waiting inside.”

 

As I headed toward the museum, my mind turned back to the questions I’d been considering the entire morning. Most of it was focused around who the hell would come up with a plan this elaborate, and what their objective might have been. There are plenty of intelligent people in the Institute. Any number of them could think of something like this, but the logistics and tactics to put it in play… That takes experience. It has to be Nate, doesn’t it?

 

With one more check around the main street, I climbed the stairs into the museum. The brownish patch where I’d smashed a Raider’s head into the wall was still there, along with the hole another had blown into the side of the building. 

 

I climbed through the crumbling interior onto the roof where the crashed Vertibird still lay to cover their approach. Crawling forward until I had a clear sightline, I positioned myself beneath the VTOL so I could move out to assist quickly if needed.

 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes later when the quartet emerged onto the main street. As they weaved around rusted out cars, half collapsed buildings, and piles of debris, I pulled my radio back out.

 

“I have eyes on you, the area looks clear.”

 

The four of them hurried forward and, once they were at the entrance, I slipped back off of the roof and headed down to meet them.

 

“Holy shit”, Glory said, sitting down on the large flight of stairs in the middle of the museum’s main floor. “Do you have any idea what happened last night?”

 

Glancing around at the others, they all looked tired and haggard. Glory was rubbing her face, MacCready and the other Railroad soldier both had bags under their eyes. Even Deacon was slumped, shoulders sagging. 

 

“As far as I can tell, the Institute has been waiting for a major action. They used our assault as a trigger, lured the Brotherhood into attacking me and then hit Cambridge while their air support was distracted. It’s possible they also tried to take advantage of the opportunity presented to capture one of you.”

 

That got a smile out of Deacon. “Possible? I think that one goes past possible, Damon.”

 

“Maybe”, I said with a shrug. “It appears their main objective had something to do with the Brotherhood.”

 

MacCready squinted. “It doesn’t sound like you know what that might be. Why are you so sure their main objective was the Brotherhood?”

 

It was a valid question: there were so many moving parts to that plan, it isn’t beyond reason to think there may have been something I missed. Maybe they were trying to accomplish multiple objectives. There is one thing I know for sure: they lost a significant portion of their fighting force to attack Cambridge and I don’t think they’re dumb enough to do that for no reason.

 

“They committed a large force to attack it. I don’t know the size, but they lost a lot of Synths. The Brotherhood still has control of Cambridge.” I looked at the three Railroad members. “Why would they do that?”

 

They exchanged glances.

 

“I…” Glory started before trailing off. “That’s a good question.”

 

“What happened to you ?” Deacon asked. “You were out of contact for almost six hours.”

 

“Institute chased me to the south edge of the city, baited the Brotherhood into sending a flight of Vertibirds after me. They used me as a distraction.” I couldn’t keep all of the bitterness out of my voice. They played me. They were willing to lose those units if it meant they could determine I was in the area. 

 

The Railroad agent cocked an eyebrow. “Huh. There’s no way they go through that much trouble to not accomplish their objective. A lot of things could have gone wrong.”

 

No… they knew what I’d do, they knew I’d be looking for an opportunity to retaliate. They were taking a risk, yes, but that risk was a bet that I’d be trying to take attention away from this group, and I’d want to send a message. 

 

Their plan had Nate’s name written all over it. 

 

If I can’t admit when I screw up, I’m no use to these people.

 

“They only needed one thing to go right: me. It isn’t a huge gamble if you know what the other person is going to do.”

 

“You’re saying the Institute knew they’d be able to use you as a distraction?” Deacon asked.

 

I nodded. “They took advantage of my normal response to combat situations. Instead of engaging me directly, they used it to draw the Brotherhood in and keep them occupied for a few minutes.”

 

“Well”, Glory said, “they didn’t figure out how to make Synths by being dumb.” She stood. “ We’re safe, for now. We need to figure out our next move; protocol dictates we can’t return to base for the next four days. Dez will know what’s going on once the QRF team reports in.”

 

“Sleep”, MacCready replied and all eyes turned to him. “We’re all exhausted. It’s been a very long 24 hours and we’ll all be thinking more clearly after some sleep.”

 

The other Railroad member let out a ragged breath. “Thank you. I didn’t want to be the one to say it.”

 

They weren’t the only ones who needed sleep. I could feel the edges of my perception dimming, my limbs slow to respond to my commands. Maybe I shouldn’t take the periods where I do get regular sleep for granted…

 

“I’ll take first watch”, I said. 

 

Deacon nodded. “I’ll join you.” He turned to the others. “We’ll wake you in four hours.”

 

As I was about to shake my head, I stopped myself. If he wants to stay up, that’s his decision.

 

“Fine by me”, Glory said, “shout if anything starts shooting at us.”

 

You’ll probably hear the gunshots first.