Maidens of the Brotherhood (pt. 1)
The great arch of St. Louis never looked so foreboding. Like a beacon signaling to a great enemy, it reflected scorching rays of sunlight in all directions. Its grandeur and symbolism were testament to the creators so many years before. 173 years after the bombs dropped, and it still retained much of its luster. So many years of violence and brutality, and here it still served its purpose: the gateway to the west.
Modest looked on from her base in the dome of the old courthouse. Her short auburn hair swayed as a gust of wind came in through the hole in the wall. Sometime before the great war, the owners of the old courthouse were undergoing maintenance work on the dome. They left behind a series of wooden ladders, stairs, and a large enough platform from which Modest and her crew could set up base camp. It was home.
From one end of the wasteland to the other, her eyes scanned for signs of her client. All this waiting was causing her to shake, but she was a leader. For the sake of her crew, she couldn't afford to show even the slightest glimpse of weakness. Maybe that's why her back was turned away from them. Scanning the horizon gave her a good enough excuse to avoid eye contact.
The other two sat around their small fire pit. A rusty old kettle cooked a batch of coffee that unleashed a soothing smell around their camp. It was just what they needed after a long day of scavenging, and what they needed at that very moment.
They could see the silhouette of their leader cut from the backdrop of a blue sky. The edges of her black greaser jacket made it look as though she were encased in a thin light. Her jeans were caked in dirt and dry blood. They told stories of a fighter, battle born, forced to pick up a gun or die.
"What if things go south, Modest? What if they just vaporize us when they realize they have no further need for us?" Asked Helena.
Helena, like Modest, was also of a pale complexion. She always wore her hair back in a jet-black ponytail. Her armor of choice consisted of custom baseball leathers that were outfitted with sheets of metal. Fitting, since old St. Louis was a diehard baseball town before the war.
"What choice do we have?" Modest finally turned to face her two comrades. "I'm sick and tired of scavenging for scraps! Every fucking day we risk our lives for a morsel to eat. We'd be lucky to even find that now. This place is drying up."
"Then we can go elsewhere! The east coast is crawling with civilization! Surely, we can find more luck out there. Gwen, tell her!"
"I would have to agree. This meeting you've arranged doesn't feel right. There are too many factors we can't control here." Gwen looked up from cleaning her hunting rifle. Her deep brown eyes met Modest in an apologetic manner.
Gwen was of a tan complexion with black hair. One side of her head remained shaven while the other half was left to grow longer. She tried not to get bogged down in too much armor, so she wore a ragged brown flannel and jeans with a leather bandolier strapped across her chest.
"But that said, I don't think it's gonna make too much of a difference where we go. This struggle to find food and water is going to nip at our asses until we're dead," said Gwen. "That doesn't even touch our ammo situation. Fucking hell."
The other two looked around for their weapons.
"We're down to about five bullets in Gwen's rifle, and I've got about 20 slugs left in this boom stick," said Helena as she gestured back to her hunting shotgun.
"And I'm down to my last clip on each of my 9mm's," Modest responded, "We've got about one good fight left in these guns."
"It won't matter if they kill us," Gwen interjected, "then maybe our worries will have been for nothing."
Modest clipped on her holsters and gave the situation a second thought. If the meeting were to get flashy, would they be quick enough to draw their weapons? Would it be enough? She let out a long sigh and ran her fingers through her hair. Never had she felt so vulnerable, as if her life was no longer in her hands. The feeling of sheer helplessness was making her sick.
"I guess that's one way to look at it," Modest started, "But I don't think you two are seeing the whole picture here. The Brotherhood have vested interests here. Because they are too afraid to set up shop, we can profit from that. They send us out on missions fetching whatever it is that they want, and we get food and ammo."
"But that's hardly a stable plan, Modest, especially in the long term," Gwen retorted. "Even if this does go according to plan."
"This has potential, you guys. Something in the Brotherhood's past is keeping them from setting up permanent operations in the city. We're not only their errand girls, but a means to spread their influence here. I mean think about it. All we have to do is deliver this package just to get our foot in the door. Not to mention we practically know this city like the back of our hands." Modest said as she turned back to her vantage point.
Helena and Gwen took a moment of pause and looked at one another. It took a moment for them to go through the motions of what this deal could possibly mean for them. Although they were practically handing their lives over to strangers with foreign intentions, they would be taken care of. Maybe Modest was right.
Doubt clung onto their thoughts like radiation clings to everything in the wasteland with a pulse. It was also possible that this would be their last moments together. They had been on multiple quests to scavenge the city, all incredibly dangerous, and no second thoughts of making it back alive. It was much different now. Lowly raiders and brutish super mutants didn't exactly compare to the cold steel and fiery lasers of the Brotherhood.
"Thanks for saving my ass, Modest." Helena said to break the silence.
"Which time are we referring to? The time a mutie dog almost made you into dog chow or that time a raider knocked you out with a lamp?" Modest chuckled. The thought really did ease the tension.
Helena started to blush, "I was referring to- "
"Of course, there was also that time Gwen floored a Yao Guai that was hell bent on giving you a bear hug."
"Damn straight I did! Or the time I knocked out a mutie with a rocket from a mile away!"
"All right! I think we get the picture here. Just trying to show a little gratitude is all."
"It was a pleasure to serve with you too, Helena, if that is what you're getting at," said Modest.
"Dying in the service of ourselves. Sounds like a way I would want to go," Gwen added as she loaded a bullet into the chamber of her rifle.
The raging sound of a distant vertabird could be heard in the distance. This was finally the moment they had all been waiting for. Gwen and Helena joined Modest near the lookout point.
"So what's the plan of action, Modest?" Gwen asked. "Should I stay up here and provide cover?"
"As much as it pains me to say it," Modest started with reluctance in her voice, "The deal was that all three of us were to meet them down there across the street." Modest pointed to the park that resided in between the courthouse and the arch.
"So they know of our numbers? Modest, this isn't like you," Gwen retorted.
"If they found out I kept information from them, we would be turned to ashes, do you understand? This is not the time to be thinking about an ace in the hole. Not yet. Now, let's not keep them waiting."
The vertabird touched down just beneath the arch way. Out stepped three knights in combat armor. One was armed with a gatling laser while the other two sported automatic laser rifles; truly not a group of individuals worth messing with.
Behind them was a short man in Brotherhood scribe regalia. The man wore a brown beard and clean-shaven head. It was evident by their formation that this man was the commanding officer of this expedition. They walked at a fast pace to meet their three clients.
"Keep your weapons lowered. Don't make any sudden movements, got me?" Modest whispered to the others. "These soldier types are spazzes. Don't give them reason to draw."
The squad stopped a few feet in front of them. Now the crew could get a better glimpse. Two of the soldiers were human, one male and one female, but interestingly enough the other was a ghoul. It was strange to see a non-human in the ranks of the Brotherhood.
To be honest, the crew was expecting a bit more. Though they dare not underestimate their clients, they felt a heavy burden be lifted from their shoulders.
The short man made his way to the front of the formation, "Good evening, Ladies. I am Paladin Lord Roscoe, head of the technology reclamation branch of the Midwestern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel. I was notified of your attempts to contact us and understand you have something that may be of interest to us."
Modest slowly raised the artifact in her hand, "It's right here. You know the artifact is intact, now do we have an accord?"
The artifact in her hand was an old-war heat seeking scope. Its technology would give the chapter an edge in both defensive and offensive maneuvering. Truly, the scope embodied what the Brotherhood had set out to obtain.
"Ah yes, in exchange for the artifact, you will provide the Brotherhood with a base of operations in the city."
"And will act as independent agents- "Modest added.
"That we simply cannot do. If we are to work together, you will swear allegiance to the Brotherhood of Steel. We cannot allow mercenaries to have access to sensitive information."
"What the- That was not part of the deal!"
"Then here I am with a new and improved deal. One you can take or leave. Your little band of miscreants will form our base of operations here in the city, and will continue to obtain technology and purge any life forms that would otherwise be a threat to further Brotherhood operations. And in return, we will provide you with the necessary supplies to carry out your duties. Now, does that sound like an accord?"
"We would like some level of autonomy, Paladin." Modest said as she gritted her teeth. "We are operating out of a city that your chapter is too frightened to step foot in."
"It is no secret that our elder is hesitant to send man power here, true enough. All right, I've altered the deal. It only makes sense that you would try to sweeten it. We will grant you the rank of Senior Knight, Ms…I'm sorry, I do not know your names."
"My name is Modest. And this is my crew: Gwen and Helena."
"Quite. Well Modest, I will be able to grant you the ranking of Senior Knight as well as the rank of Knight for the rest of your squad. How does that sound? That would already put you in a higher position than my men here."
"If that is the best you can do," Modest lightly tossed the scope over to Roscoe, "We accept your offer."
"Finally." Roscoe motioned to two of his men who were lugging heavy backpacks. "Consider these two packs as a care package. They contain a standard issue radio with a tracking beacon as well as food and water."
The soldiers dropped their packs in front of the crew.
"What about ammo?" asked Gwen.
"We can provide you with ammunition. What do you require?"
"9 mm rounds, .308 caliber bullets, and shotgun shells." Helena answered.
"That should be no problem. We will have that delivered to this spot first thing in the morning. We wouldn't want our newest addition to be out here without the proper firepower. In time you will gain access to better Brotherhood arms." The Lord Paladin turned away from Modest and her crew, "Back to the extraction zone, men! Let us leave this dreadful death trap. We will be keeping in touch, Senior Knight! Ad Victorium!"
The three stared down the packs in front of them. In part, there was a sense of relief that they had not been vaporized, but there was also a small sense of dread about the deal. They had just traded away their freedom for food and ammunition. They couldn't help but wonder if it would all be worth it.
It would seem that any hope for an independent future was long gone; it flew away from them as the vertabird took off into the afternoon sky.
End of part 1