It had been a long firefight, drawn out by the seemingly endless amounts of ghouls that kept pouring out of the ruins of Cambridge and laying siege to the small police station. Seconds ticked by like hours as another horde descended on the Paladin's team; made curious by the noise the laser rifles cast as the small group tore through each and every feral. After nearly a hour of the fighting, Danse put down the last of the former-humans with a final gut shot to ghoul that was already missing an arm and half of its face.
"Weapons going cold." He stated. The silence that took its place over the battlefield was a welcome sound. It was almost eery, the complete lack of gunfire and snarls that surround them as the dust settled. Danse would welcome the lack of sound any day. Any day not spent in active combat meant one less member of his team was not going home.
"Rhys!" Scribe Haylen's shriek rang out over the silence of the battle now ended. Danse turned on his heel, bringing his laser rifle to the crook of his shoulder, preparing to kill the one ghoul that slipped by him in the chaos. Before he even had his safety off, a shot rang out and hit the ghoul square in the temple. The damned creature went down just as it was lunging to attack the knight. Paladin Danse stood shocked in a millisecond of confusion, the bullet that killed the ghoul did not have the telltale red tail of an energy weapon. And the shot he had heard, that was from a pistol. Danse turned toward one of the broken gates to find whoever had killed the ghoul with such a precision shot.
Standing just inside the security gate, stood a woman. She wore a blue jumpsuit under a hodgepodge of leather and metal armor and an old school, pre-war assault mask. God, that thing was ugly. In one hand she clutched a rather impressive looking 10mm pistol that had been modified to the point that it was barely even a pistol any longer. The other hand clutched her side as she shambled into the compound. She stumbled into one of the barricades, the hand holding her side flew in front of her to brace her fall, but a large dog came out of nowhere, and took the brunt of her fall as her torso landed on its back. The dog whimpered, whether out of pain or concern Danse could not tell. But what was clear was the trail of blood left on the dog's fur as the stranger slumped off of him, finally hitting the ground with a muffled fwump.
"Sir!" Knight Rhys barked from somewhere behind Danse as the Paladin cautiously moved toward the injured woman and her dog. He held out his hand behind him, a gesture that told the Knight to shut up and hold his position. The noise from his power armor as he moved drowned out the sad whimpers that came from the dog as it lovingly nudged the woman's masked face with it's muzzle. As Danse came upon them, the dog turned to him, issuing a warning growl as it slowly moved in front of the woman. The dog was trying to protect her from this unknown man, and Danse couldn't fault the animal from obeying it's instincts to protect it's master.
"It's alright." Danse said calmly, holding out his hand out in front of him, not as an invitation for the dog to smell him, but as a peace offering to show he meant the woman no harm.
"Help me." A faint voice spoke from behind the dog. Her bloody hand slowly rose to the red bandana around the dog's neck, grasping onto it and pulling. Understanding this non-verbal order, the dog stood down but not before growling pointedly at Danse. Another warning that while the dog was obeying the command it would still be watching him closely.
"What happened?" Danse asked as he reached forward to inspect the wound.
"Ghoul … frag mine…" were the only audible words Danse could make out from the woman's feeble voice. Danse carefully pulled at the blue material just outside of the wounded section of her torso. From what he could see, there were no projectiles or shrapnel sticking out of the wound, but it would need to be cleaned and dressed properly to save the woman from an infection or death.
"I'm going to have to move you." Danse stated waiting for the woman's consent for him to begin treating her. She nodded. Or at least Danse thought she did, it was hard to tell with that ugly, green mask swallowing her head. "Rhys, help me get her inside." The paladin ordered. Moving the injured woman would need to be done with a delicate touch, any jolting or sharp movements could cause more damage if shrapnel was lodged inside the wound where he couldn't see it. And while Danse was adept at moving in his armor, he knew the suit too well to trust that he could move her without jostling her too much. Rhys wasn't the most graceful of his team, but he was the strongest outside of Danse and could be trusted to carry the woman safely. Rhys obeyed his orders without delay, sprinting over and carefully picking the woman up. She let out a soft whimper, causing the dog at her feet the whine empathetically.
Rhys moved quickly yet carefully, each step calculated to avoid any ferals - or pieces of them - while keeping the woman relatively stable. Haylen stood in the doorway, holding it open for Rhys as he worked his way inside.
"Lay her down on that cot." Haylen commanded, pointing to one of the sleeping bags on the far side of the room. Her medical training taking over her normally friendly demeanor. Now was not the time for niceties. Now was the time to save a woman's life. She would have killed for a more sterile environment to work in, but such a luxury would never be afforded to a field scribe on a recon mission. Hastily tearing through her field pack, Haylen searched for her emergency med kit. "Where?" She huffed, digging deeper into the pack when the med kit wasn't where it should have been.
"It's still on the counter from -" Rhys began, but was cut off when Haylen turned to retrieve it. Danse, being closest to the counter, chucked the small metal box at the scribe who caught it without any warning.
"Move." She ordered, kneeling down next to the injured woman. "Keep her talking." Haylen pulled out a pair of scissors, carefully cutting away the fabric surrounding the wound. She gently pried the fabric from the woman's skin to inspect the wound further.
"Uhh…" Rhys stuttered, looking from Haylen to the woman. A sharp dog's bark from outside the station pulled his attention away momentarily. Haylen had shut the door on the animal, locking it outside and away from where she would be working. The dog howled mournfully. The three soldiers could hear the animal clawing at the door, pleading to be let inside. "What's the dog's name?" Rhys finally asked, turning to look at the entrance where the dog was digging at the door.
"Dogmeat."
"You named your dog 'Dogmeat'?" He asked, surprised by the odd name.
"No." She answered cryptically. "Let him in…"
"I can't have an animal in here while I'm working." The scribe countered, not looking away from the wound as she carefully dredged a clean cloth through purified water. "It's already dirty enough in here, but having an animal -"
"He won't stop." The woman replied just as the doors shuddered with a thud. The dog was throwing itself into the doors. Without a word, Danse opened the door for the dog, who bounded inside and trotted over to the injured woman. Dogmeat laid on the opposite side of scribe Haylen, laying down next to the injured woman's thighs, and nuzzled his nose under her hand. The woman relaxed almost immediately, gently scratching the fur atop the dog's muzzle.
"Keep talking." The scribe ordered Rhys again. Even if he held a higher rank than the scribe, in this instance Haylen's expertise and medical training was far superior to the knights and he would gladly follow her orders.
"Umm… What - what is your name?" He asked, his mind stumbling to think of anything as Haylen carefully removed the leather armor covering her patient's chest and began unzipping the ravaged, blue jumpsuit.
"Grace." The woman replied meekly. Her voice was distant; she was fading fast.
"That's a pretty name." Rhys sucked at small talk. "That's a vault suit, right?"
"Vault 111."
"Were you born there?"
"No… Detroit. Moved - " Grace cried out from the pain of Haylen removing her vault suit from her shoulders. After a moment to collect her nerves, she continued. "Moved around a lot."
"Detroit… That, uh, that was in, um… Minnesota, right?" He had never been really good at pre-war geography. Especially pre-commonwealths-pre-war geography.
"Michigan. Both were in Great Midwest Commonwealth before the war."
Danse watched as Haylen worked through the routine of applying med-x and cleaning out the wound as Rhys kept the woman talking. He kept a close eye on Haylen as she worked to help the woman. Haylen needed this. She needed to be in the thick of caring for the woman, needed to feel the relief of keeping her alive; saving her. Losing so many members of their team in such a short period of time - one of which had been on his orders - played heavily on the scribe. But to be able to fix this woman, to bring her back from the brink, that would be all of the comfort Haylen could be provided at this moment. She could make up for the loss of her brothers and sisters if she could just keep this one woman alive. Danse knew Rhys offered some solitude, but as her commander, Danse wished he was better equipped to help his scribe deal with the harsh reality of the war they were waging and the casualties they had already suffered.
The paladin left his two teammates to help the woman and walked outside to begin repairing the fortifications surrounding the police station. The most tiresome task before him would be moving and disposing of the ghouls' bodies and dismembered body parts that littered the ground. In all of his years on the battlefield, Danse had never been able to get used to the smell of ferals. It wasn't the same overpowering smell of body odor and festering blood like super mutants. The smell of feral ghouls was much more subtle, but still invasive and nauseating; like a dead animal left to rot in the summer heat but was just far enough in the distance that it was barely noticeable. Withered ghouls smelled the worst. Their thin skin let out all sorts of smells that Danse didn't have the stomach to describe. Carting off the bodies of those former humans was slow work, but Danse was able to gradually clear them out. He left the bodies in an old dumpster just outside of the fortifications. It was far away enough that he would be able to burn the bodies without the smell getting too bad, but close enough to the police station that if he or his team came under attack the other party would be able to come to the rescue.
Once Danse had removed all of the ghoul corpses from the area, he set to work fixing the busted main gate. It had been closed when the first of the ghouls attacked. Somehow, the damned things managed to find a weak spot and break through. Assessing the broken parts would take some time to pinpoint what exactly had been the faulty culprit, time he did not want to waste when there were gaps in the security perimeter that needed to be fixed. It was quiet, relaxing work after the noise and chaos that had plagued them all afternoon. He pulled any pieces of scrap and junk he could find and were viable enough to hold the fort. Screws, hinges, and any other odds and ends that were normally in short supply were cannibalized from broken junk and made to secure the new gate. His years as a scrapper and scaver in Rivet City had taught Danse how to maximize productivity with as little waste as possible. Every piece and part of some junk could always be used to find a new purpose. Time ticked by slowly for Danse as he worked. He enjoyed this kind of work. The peace of it, of quiet work in a world that always seemed to have gun fights blazing on as background noise, gave Danse a sense of calm.
"I managed to stop the bleeding. She really only had the one gash. She's lucky it wasn't too deep. I packed the wound and patched her up as best I could." Haylen reported as she left the station to join Danse at the main gate. "But she needs a real doctor if we don't want her to get an infection or…"
'Die.' Danse thought to himself. As bad as he was at consoling Haylen, knew better than to say as much to the scribe. Haylen hunkered down next to Danse, quietly picking up a piece of discarded junk and began removing any nails or hardware she could find.
"Take a break, soldier." Danse ordered. "That kind of field dressing - "
"I will, Sir." Haylen responded knowing what Danse was going to say. "But right now, I've got too much adrenaline to sit still."
"Understood."
The pair worked in silence, Haylen pulling together pieces and parts Danse would need while he assembled a more solid gate. Their silence was quietly broken when Haylen giggled to herself. Danse looked over to her, his eyebrow quirked in question.
"That dog." Haylen replied. "It really doesn't like Rhys. The thing would growl at him whenever he would move."
"It does appear to be a rather loyal animal." Danse stated, not paying particular attention to the scribe. He was too absorbed in his work to pay any mind to chit chat and small talk. The pair moved slowly as they pieced together parts of the wall to hold the world at bay. At some point, Rhys joined them, keeping to himself as he moved barricades to cover the southern perimeter.
"How was she doing when you left?" Haylen asked, taking a momentary break from their work.
"Asleep." Rhys replied. "Kept mumbling something in her sleep. Kinda sounded like she was talking about a baby, but who knows after all those things she was saying."
"What sort of things?" Danse asked.
"When I was patching her up, she just kept… babbling about the strangest things. I'd like to attribute them to blood loss, but -"
"She's just crazy." Rhys interjected.
"What did she say?" Danse asked again.
"The weirdest was that she killed some ancient alien being held prisoner in an insane asylum that could move things with it's mind or… something."
"She keep saying one thing that stuck out…"Haylen sighed.
"You don't seriously believe her?" Rhys retorted.
"If it's true, it could be invaluable to the Brotherhood."
"She's nuts, Haylen. No way is it true."
"What?" Danse barked. He did not like that his two subordinates were arguing in front of him when he had expressly demanded an answer.
"She said she has a way into the Institute." Haylen replied.
"She also said she's pushing 240 years old. And a General of some civilian militia." Rhys stated, too loudly to be under his breath.
"Did she say how she can get into the Institute?"
"Sir, you can't be taking that woman seriously? She's either crazy or a chem addict."
"Shut up, soldier." Danse commanded. Rhys could be hard headed at times. So much so that he tried almost every nerve Danse had some days. And after a day like today, the knight's incessant bickering with Haylen was getting to be too much. "Did she say how she could get into the Institute?" Danse repeated his question.
"No, Sir." Haylen replied. "She just said she had to get to a place called Goodneighbor. Said there was someone there that could help her."
