Deacon had seen his fair share of gruesome things that the Commonwealth had to offer. Hell, it's in the job description. But when he started traveling with the Sole Survivor, he began to experience those sorts of things from a whole new perspective. That is to say, up close and personal. The fact that they happened on a daily basis was also something that had not gone unnoticed.
Before, he mostly dealt with people and ghouls. He was intelligence, not a tank. His expertise was hiding in the shadows, striking hard and fast then getting out unseen. He almost never got hurt, but when he did it wasn't pretty. That's not to say he was unfamiliar with pain, everyone who was in the Wasteland knew pain on intimate levels. And besides the pain that came with regular facial reconstruction surgeries, he'd been brutally wounded in the fall of the Railroad's last HQ while helping others escape.
He preferred to deal with his pains, mental and physical alike, on his own. The less people who knew about him and his capabilities, the better. The Railroad knew his tendency to hide his wounds, but they knew better than to comment on it. That hadn't stopped since he started traveling with Sole, but infuriatingly enough, the man would call him out on it when he'd been barely grazed by a raider's bullet or something. It was minor, but Sole had insisted on treating it.
Deacon wasn't sure how he felt about that.
He didn't like relying on others for help, the moment you do, they fail you. That was his mindset for the longest time, but the pre-war man was slowing changing it. Even though he still wasn't comfortable having his injuries treated by others, at this point, it was more out of habit than anything else.
The Sole Survivor hadn't been severely injured since Deacon came around, which was a miracle, considering the amount of time they had been traveling together. It'd been several months, but really neither of them had kept close track. If Deacon had any say about it, the Survivor would never be hurt under his watch, hell, he'd jump in front of a Behemoth if it came to it. He was expendable, the Sole Survivor was not. Or at least that was how he viewed it. He hadn't realized it, but this fierce protectiveness in him had grown steadily throughout their time together, and even before if he was being honest with himself. But it was firmly rooted there now and Deacon didn't mind.
They had been traveling North towards Mercer's safe house and found themselves in a rather desolate isolated area. In their time in this part of the 'Wealth they had only encountered a couple wild mongrels and snuck past a gunner camp they decided wouldn't be worth it to attack, but besides that it had been a harmonious journey. It was peaceful, the week before had been filled with super mutants and placing Tinker Tom's MILAs in the inner city. They decided taking a break from the towering buildings and dark alleys by checking on the refuge to the west, Sole decided it would be a nice change of pace, and Deacon, as always, followed his lead.
As a general rule Deacon avoided being out in the open. The Sole Survivor often made jokes about his paranoia regarding snipers, but it wasn't without reason. In the past he had several close encounters with snipers, and had sniped a few targets himself. Once you do that, it's hard not to look around and see all the best spots someone could be watching from a distance. There were no tall buildings here though, it was mostly barren trees and underbrush. It was hilly however, and he swiped his gaze under groves where Yao Guai might be concealed.
They had decided to pass the time swapping stories, Deacon was always exaggerating his to the extent it was unclear if there was any authenticity at all. He liked adding one or two bits of truth with a bunch of lies, and it often confused people. Sole knew him by now though, and often tried to decipher what actually happened. It'd become a game for them to pass the time. Deacon knew most of the Sole Survivor's stories from the waste, and no, he was definitely not stealing them. He always asked to hear something from before the war, if it wasn't too painful. Sole usually obliged with retelling popular entertainment Deacon didn't have access to, most common being old TV broadcasts.
The sun had just reached its peak in the sky and the blazing light filtered down. The Sole Survivor was enthralled talking about some pre-war television show he used to enjoy watching. Deacon wasn't paying much attention to it, which was unusual since he'd normally be riveted alongside, making sarcastic comments or asking questions. He didn't want to be rude but he was distracted by the sun-kissed skin of the other's face, and the scrunch in the corners of his eyes caused by his excitement for the old stories. The Survivor hadn't noticed his lack of participation in the conversation, being too absorbed talking about someplace with lots and snow and crime. Absently Deacon wondered if there was still snow there.
It was in that moment when they both heard, or rather, felt, large booming footsteps. They froze, Sole stopping mid-sentence and Deacon crouching. Both scanned the area. The feeling or rumbling increased, accompanied by the distinctive noise of a Deathclaw's breathing. Together they had taken out lots of Deathclaws, but in the position where they were, they didn't know where this one was, just that it was close. Side by side, and slowly, they made their way towards a rather thick underbrush.
Deacon knew it wouldn't hide their scent from the beast if it happened to wander over, or happened to be down wind, but they might be able to confuse it for a few seconds and get a sneak attack. In the corner of his vision, he saw Sole pull out Kellogg's pistol. He found it interesting. It seemed to be his favorite weapon, alongside Deliverer which wasn't exactly the best for a Deathclaw, but Sole smirked at Deacon, like he had a plan. Deacon returned the gesture and pulled out a shotgun, he didn't feel like his usual finesse today, and if Sole was going to have him lug around extra weapons, he might as well use them.
They were still side-by-side, a tree behind them and a bush in front. The sound of the beast's steps had stopped somewhere nearby, but they could still hear its breath. It inhaled slowly, having likely caught their scent.
Deacon heard the Sole Survivor take a deep breath himself, probably trying to calm his nerves. Before he met Deacon, he had a terrifying encounter with one by himself, though there really wasn't much else to be said besides that he obviously made it out alive
.
Deacon continued to scan the area visible through the bush. Sole did the same. The trees were pulling tricks on their eyes and they heard breaking branches where there were none. Deacon noticed an alcove off to the right of his partner where a thick tree blocked his vision. He could've sworn he'd seen movement. He signaled Sole that he was moving, and to stay in position, Sole nodded his head in confirmation.
It wasn't that he didn't trust Sole to quietly move with him, 'cause he did. Sole was one of the only people he had met who could be as stealthy as himself, it was just that the man had a tendency to be trigger happy in unknown situations.
Deacon slid his pack off his back quietly. It'd weigh him down if something nasty happened. He crept around his partner and ducked under a thick limb of a tree.
The footsteps started again, somewhere nearby. He started scanning once again, still, nothing. His pace quickened.
When he finally got a good view of the alcove that had grabbed his attention before, there didn't seem to be any signs of a Deathclaw. He wandered slowly closer, hair rising on the back of his neck, and goosebumps forming. The air was thick with the scent of blood that often accompanied the beasts.
He'd wanted to know where the beast was so that they could plan an attack rather than cower at the base of a tree waiting for it to leave. The idea had sounded good in his mind, but now that he was actually thinking about it…
Deacon nervously rolled his shoulders and continued. He noted he was starting to get pretty far away from Sole, so he looked back and realized he was in the blind spot from before. He couldn't see Sole, and then in the corner of his eye, red glinted and he turned. He saw what had been hiding from his line of sight.
It was the bloody gored body of a Radstag doe, eyes still open and staring endlessly. They'd walked up to a Deathclaw that was mid meal. His eyes widened under his sunglasses.
Two shots rang out.
He turned on his heel, and without thought, sprinted back to Sole.
More gunshots.
Goddamnit, why did I leave him? He should've come with me. Fuck, of all the times to make a dumb fucking mistake.
Small twigs of branches whipped his face, nearly knocking off his wig and glasses, several scratching his cheekbones and neck. His ears were filled with the rush of blood and the world seemed painfully clear.
When he saw the Sole Survivor, it was like he'd taken a hit of cheap Jet.
The Deathclaw was standing right there, too close, far too close, and Deacon saw the look on Sole's face. They'd been together long enough that he recognized that expression. The Sole Survivor's clip had run out.
Deacon almost froze, but his training kicked in and he pushed forwards. The beast roared and raised the jagged nails of its namesake. Shotgun still in hand, he fired without stopping his sprint, but the mutated abomination didn't even flinch.
He dashed even closer and Sole turned his face to Deacon, his expression growing horrified as he realized what the agent was about to do.
And then they collided, Deacon's arms wrapped around sole as they toppled to the ground, his back towards the enraged Deathclaw.
Impossibly hot pain seared through him, stripes of white fire streaking across his shoulder and back, and then he was in the air, being flung out of the way like a ragdoll. He hit a tree as the Sole Survivor realized this was the time, he reloaded his gun and got between the Deathclaw and Deacon.
He aimed for its head, and missed, grazed it neck. His hands were shaking, his mind running with the possibility that they weren't going to survive this. He shot again, but his legs gave out from underneath him, and he fell to his knees. This was it then.
But a wild form came from seemingly out-of-nowhere and rammed into his assailant, a Radstag buck. Sole didn't know what it was doing, but he was glad for the distraction. He dropped his arms and crawled to his vulnerable companion, watching as the buck rammed the beast again. The mutant deer ceased its assault and ran off in the direction of the alcove Deacon had been checking out earlier. The deathclaw followed closely and maneuvered out of sight.
"Did I get 'em boss?" A wheezy voice asked, Sole sighed thankful that he was conscious. A hand reached up for assistance in standing, and was obliged quickly.
"Not exactly bud, we need to get out of here before he remembers us," Sole murmured back, "Thank God for that Radstag."
"Wait, I need to get my pack, got all the extra stuff in there-"
"We don't have time for that, we can come back later, but for now we just need to get out of here."
Deacon sighed in response, grimace on his face as they started in the direction they came from. The noises of a fight weren't far behind, and Sole wanted to quicken the pace. But he was pretty sure Deacon was severely hurt, though it all had happened so fast, too fast, and he hadn't been able to keep track of what had happened.
"You alright Deacon? It looked like he got you good, but I didn't really see anything other than you flying through the air really…" he asked between breaths.
"I'm fine, nothing to worry about, let's just get out of here," said Deacon, but he wasn't actually sure about the full extent of his injuries. Adrenaline and Endorphins still ran through his system, dulling most pains.
Besides, whatever it was, he could deal with it on his own like he'd always done.
The sounds were distant now. Their surroundings were still wooded, but chances were that the Deatchlaw had given up any chance of catching them, so they stopped to catch their breaths. In almost an instant, they were traversing the underbrush again. Both were eager to be out of the open.
"Well, that happened," said Deacon.
The sole survivor chuckled a bit and stretched his arms out, his shoulders audibly popping. His hands were still trembling.
"Indeed it did buddy, indeed it did," and after a beat, he added, "We should try to find a spot to stop for the night, after all that excitement, it might be a good idea."
Deacon nodded, and Sole couldn't help but notice the lines of exhaustion covering his companion's face. It was understandable, he thought, and even more reason to find cover and make camp as soon as possible.