Glory didn't question Charmer as to why she felt compelled to take them to Goodneighbor.
At this point, she had learned not to question the new Heavy.
And it wasn't that Glory didn't understand the woman, or that Charmer was difficult to follow by any mean. It was just... more out of simplicities sake. It was just easier not to ask- easier to just go with whatever Charmer was doing at the time.
After all, Charmer had turned the whole Commonwealth around since her revival, and Glory had been all the more curious to see her in action. She just didn't anticipate that most of the action would consisted of the woman occasionally getting lost, or running like hell through a pack of feral ghouls who were too slow to catch her. Although, to be fair, Charmer could book it when she wanted to; the woman was as fast as irradiated lightning- gone in a blink of the eye if one wasn't watching her. Now, Charmer was far from being an adrenaline junkie, or at least that's what she insisted, but... there was something in her. Some kind of devil, or force that was never allowed out before- at least not during those boring pre-war times.
But Charmer was a good fit for the Railroad.
And the two of them worked well together- better than Glory had with any other partner before. Well, maybe not Tommy, but Charmer was a close second- and that was without the training that most Heavies went through. But Dez had insisted that they were strapped for time and agents, so they weren't in the standing to properly train any new members; which wasn't good seeing as they had just lost a good dozen of them a few months back.
Charmer did a good job on filling up any positions they might've needed though- sometimes running multiple jobs at once. The Railroad needed her.
Besides, Glory couldn't really see herself training the pre-war woman anyways.
She wasn't always up for having partners, especially since her few failed runs with Deacon, but she could definitely see herself sticking to Charmer like glue. Or like that one malfunction she had witnessed back at the Institute; the one where two synthetic bodies ended up getting dipped at the same time into the artificial flesh pit, and came out as one joined person. What a mess that had been.
"Okay, I give," Glory spoke, as she followed the Charmer into the Old States House. "What are we doing here? Because if you're picking up a personal 'stash' from the ghoul Mayor himself, then you're gonna have to pay to keep my mouth shut around Dez."
"I'm not here for the drugs," Charmer insisted, as she turned her head just enough to shoot a grin back at her- amused by her joke of blackmailing.
"Oh, so looking for one of those good old 'house tours' then?" Glory continued, as the two of them started up the spiral staircase to the Mayor's office on the top floor. She had never been one for Goodneighbor, or for the Mayor himself, but... she liked the raw aesthetics of the State House. It was a little more put together than most buildings, and the Mayor, as weird as he was, kept the pre-war artifacts in good conditions and out on display.
"Glory, please," Charmer mockingly whined, climbing the stairs faster than she could. "I'm here because I need some information- which rumor says that Hancock has at his disposal. Don't worry, I won't keep you here long. We'll be back at the HQ in no time."
Glory highly fucking doubted that.
But she kept that part to herself and chuckled as the woman climbed the stairs two at a time.
"You're packing some real heat there, Sweetheart; I'd keep that thing holstered if I were you," one of the ghoul guards spoke, as the two of them made it to the top floor. He was dressed in some kind of wrinkled suit, and crumpled top hat- probably to make himself look more intimidating.
"Fuck off," Glory replied, sneering slight at the man as she followed Charmer into the open office. As good of a man Mayor Hancock tried to be- well he had a good heart maybe- Goodneighbor still had the tendency to pull in the worst of the worst. More often than not, the people were just arrogant and uptight, which was irritating, but they were somewhat easy to ignore. Then again, she supposed that was the purpose of Goodneighbor- to allow anyone, or anything, a safe place of refuge.
Hell, Hancock let them run Railroad business through here without a single word, or question, so she supposed she owed him that much out of respect.
"Well, well, if it ain't the ever-charming Nora," Hancock spoke, as he stood up from the couch to greet the dark-haired woman. "Looks like you brought your muscle with you too."
Glory had to admit, it was still odd to hear people refer to Charmer by her real name. The whole purpose of a codename in the Railroad was to protect your identity, to hide yourself. Then again, with Charmer's background, and recent activities, it would be impossible to hide her.
"She is made of muscle, but she's a friend," Charmer corrected.
Glory was pretty used to the stereotype by now.
Whenever she ran with Deacon, she was his muscle. Whenever she took the rare run with Desdemona, she was both her muscle and shield. It wasn't that she hated it- after all, it wasn't a bad title; she could cut through waves of Ghouls and Super Mutants like they were paper. She could punch her way through a good bar fight too- although her fists weren't nearly as effective as her gun.
But sometimes she wasn't the muscle; sometimes she was just here, being dragged by Charmer into the shittest parts of the Commonwealth.
"Why don't you and I move this to the other room- for privacy," Hancock spoke, as he gestured for Charmer to follow him out of the room. "Fahrenheit, keep Charmer's friend entertained, would you?"
"I'll be back in ten minutes," Charmer assured, squeezing Glory's arm as she followed the man out.
"You owe me," Glory replied, hearing the woman laugh before she disappeared into the room across the staircase from her. She gave out a brief sigh and tried to figure out how the hell she got stuck with this waiting game. This was precisely why she needed to question Charmer more often- but it was also another reason to just let the woman do whatever it was she wanted.
It was just easier that way.
Glory slowly turned her attention to the silent woman who stood in the corner of the room, just a few feet to her left; she wasn't entirely sure how exactly she knew the lady was there- but she could only assume that this was Fahrenheit, as titled by Hancock. An odd name, or moniker, but... the woman fit the bill.
Red-orange hair was highlighted by the burning tip of the cigarette on her lips.
The rough, paled and freckled skin of her face was the only exposure there was under her heavy armor- with the exception of her equally rough hands.
The right portion of her cheek, close to her eye, was stretched and knotted with visible scar tissue; it both masked and isolated the open wound that had once been there. It was an intriguing looking scar; a disfiguring burn if Glory had ever seen one.
Something about it wasn't disfiguring though. It was... appealing in its own right.
The armored woman was leaning back against a long counter behind her, both arms resting on the chipped and damaged edge of it- making it look as though she had done so so many times that she was the one damaging the counter. At the same time, it almost looked like a forced pose, as though she had been in the middle of something else before Charmer had walked in.
Despite the woman's intriguing appearance, and noticeable silence, Glory felt her eyes get drawn to the heavy gun resting on the countertops behind the woman. It was, from what she could see, a very beautifully modified minigun.
Glory couldn't help but crack a brief grin, before she moved one hand back to rest on her own- which was tightly strapped to her armored rig. "More bullets, more fun," she spoke.
The woman, Fahrenheit, eyed her over before one hand removed the cigarette from her lips, which then parted enough to blow out a breath of smoke. "Higher the body count," she nodded, tipping her cigarette towards her like one would a glass in a celebratory toast.
Something told Glory that she could definitely get to liking this woman.
"You got that right."
Goodneighbor was never in the best of locations, but it's convenience was hard to beat.
She could always drop in from time to time after a successful mission to top off her ammo and resupply- maybe even grab something for the people back home. She tried not to stay too long when she was there though, just long enough to get bullets and get out.
"That's a lot of bullets you're buying- not that I'm complaining," KL-E-0 purred.
Glory cracked a grin at the words as she reloaded her minigun at the counter. It was late and no one else seemed to be around, and she wanted her stock to be full by the time she hit the road again. "Got a lot of people to shoot," she replied, carefully feeding the bullet belt back into the rotating well.
Some people were put off, or maybe felt uncomfortable around KL-E-0, but Glory rather liked her. The Assaultron reminded her of PAM- of course, on a far more radical scale. Maybe it was a robot thing where they all had to stick together or something. Shit, if Deacon was here he'd tell her that's probably what it was- and them immediately follow it up and say not to get any bright ideas, or else he'd tell PAM. Somehow, something in his head was convinced that PAM had a crush on her.
"I should get into your line of business then- it sounds like fun."
She laughed this time and finished tucking in the last of her ammo belt, before she sealed her stock and snapped it back into place. "Well, we could certainly use more people like you, KL-E-0, believe me- hell, you and I are one in the same really."
It was the Assaultron's turn to laugh- abet a low, robotic sounding type.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Forged."
Glory frowned slightly at the words, before she heard someone walk in and watched as Fahrenheit leaned against the counter space next to her. The woman's eyes were set on the Assaultron as she pulled her cigarette from her lips, stubbed it out on the countertop, and flicked the smoldering butt at the robot- bouncing it off of her chest chassis.
"I told you to stop calling me that," Fahrenheit bit.
"Oh, did you? My memory modules must need a cleaning then."
Glory got the hint that the two of them were and weren't toying with each other; it was difficult to tell considering that they were both hard to read. She suddenly felt the need to leave though.
"Well look at the two of you- practically twins."
She snorted this time, biting back another laugh. It was a little hard to deny that she and Fahrenheit had some odd similarities; they both had similar haircuts, and both toted miniguns around- which weren't common to see most days. Everyone preferred smaller, more manageable guns- Hell, Desdemona still tried to convince her to carry something less conspicuous. But she refused to. "The only difference is that I could probably last a little longer in the sun."
"She turns as red as her hair," KL-E-0 mused.
Glory wanted to laugh again, but decided to bite it back once more- taking note of the tension in Fahrenheit's jaw now. "I should be going- got a long way home I gotta get started on."
"Actually, I have something I want to talk to you about," Fahrenheit interrupted. "Meet me outside- bring your gun."
Her curiosity was peeked now as she watched the woman turn and walk away. "Uh, yeah, alright," Glory shrugged, as she paid for her bullets, before she hoisted her minigun back up and followed after Fahrenheit. The woman was carrying her minigun on a rig somewhat similar to her own that was welded onto her armor- something Glory had been meaning to do for awhile now.
It was pretty hard not to notice how good Fahrenheit looked from the back too- not that she was staring.
The two of them made their way out the city's door, and let it slam close behind them- leaving them enveloped in the pitch darkness of the streets around them. It was a little unnerving, but Glory had been in worst places before.
"So do you always treat KL-E-0 like that?" Glory asked.
"Have to keep her on her toes," Fahrenheit answered, "not a good model- a few too many loose circuits if you ask me."
She frowned slightly at the remark and moved to cross her arms. "And why is that exactly?"
"Because she dreams of wrapping those metal claws around my throat- and twice now I've woken up to her in my room," the woman continued. "It's all besides the point though. As you're more than likely aware, we have a Super Mutant problem in this area. They've been edging themselves closer day by day, and eventually they're going to be at our doorstep. The plan was to wait until then and then launch a defensive strike while we had the advantage. But our watchmen are incompetent and underskilled- not to mention high more often than not; it doesn't help that they can't aim for shit when they're fucked up like that. They can do enough to keep the streets safe, but outside of that they're deadweight."
"Let me guess, you want me to take them out," Glory mused.
"I want us to take them out," Fahrenheit corrected. "We lack numbers, but bullets are our advantage. We lure them out, bottleneck them in the streets, and gun them down. They won't know what hit them."
"You got this whole thing planned out then," she remarked.
"I considered doing it myself, but I'm not going to deny an extra gun," the woman replied. "Unless your Railroad business is keeping you preoccupied."
Glory stilled at the remark.
"I know everything that goes on inside of Goodneighbor. I know about the Railroad traffic that goes in and out from time to time," Fahrenheit continued. "I know about Dr. Amari's involvement- we all do. Doesn't matter to us how or what goes on in the Memory Den, as long as it's not bothering anyone else. Hancock wanted a safe haven for everyone- Synths included. Now can you do this, or not?"
Fahrenheit didn't care about what, or who she was.
All the woman cared about was the gun on her back, and her ability to use it.
... It was the simplest of respect given.
And yet, she liked it.
"Hell yeah I can," Glory nodded, "just give me a direction to shoot in."
"That's what I like to hear."
Fahrenheit drew the Super Mutants out, and lined them up- getting a little too close for comfort in order to do so.
She barely got back to her minigun in time, but Glory had a feeling that it was all part of her plan.
Feet were set at shoulder-length apart; heels dug into broken asphalt with counterbalance set in her knees and hips as she kept her grip firm on her minigun. The weight felt good in her hands, always had; it felt like security and victory. It was one of the reasons she never took Dez up on the offer to trade out for a Railroad, or Gauss Rifle- both of which were the Railroad Alpha's personal choice.
Eyes watched as the Super Mutants rounded the corner- all of them armed with wooden boards, or broken guns.
"Fire."
A quiet call of command.
Finger on the trigger, cemented, as Glory listened to the familiar wind of the barrels spinning.
And then there were bullets, and blood- surprised screams and shrieks as the first wave of Super Mutants were cut apart like paper.
Glory heard Fahrenheit's minigun wind next to her, taking a few seconds longer to warm up than hers did, before it fired up- quite literally. It was a hail of bullets and fire, like an old-written Armageddon play had come to life with every spin of her red barrels. Every mutant that she hit became engulfed in fire and flame; the tight and narrow alleyway only amplified the shrilled screams and echoes.
It would've been disgusting had Glory not witnessed one too many injuries by Mutants.
Had she herself not had to wrestle a kidnapped Synth from the jaws of one.
Had she and Charmer not had to sneak past these damn Mutants every time they were in the area- mindful of steps and broken glass. Glory had always wanted to stop and take the time to kill them, but Charmer was always insistent that now was not the time; it never seemed to be. After all, clear one spot out, and something else will move in.
Between the two of them, it didn't take long before the streets were quiet and the clouds of smoke dissipated enough to reveal the body-filled street.
"One issue down," Fahrenheit spoke nonchalantly, as she set her minigun aside, and moved to pick up a gas canister from nearby.
Glory watched as the woman walked through the piled up group of bodies, spilling the gas over them as she passed through the mess. "You're not... are you going to burn them?" she questioned, watching as the woman nodded. "That's gonna reek something righteous- and just right outside of town too."
"Better now than three months of flesh rotting under the sun," Fahrenheit replied.
Okay.
She had her with that one.
Glory watched as Fahrenheit tossed the gas canister into the carnage, before she slowly made her way back out. She drew out another cigarette, and placed it between her lips as she withdrew a match next; striking it on her boot, she lit her cigarette first, before she tossed it into the bodies. Igniting everything into one big bonfire.
The glow of the fire only seemed to put highlights in her red hair as Fahrenheit stood back and watched the roaring flames. Her fitted silhouette shined against the uncontrollable backdrop of a pit fire, before she slowly turned and walked back towards her.
"So... Ash Marker, is it?" Glory questioned, watching as the woman hoisted her minigun up once more. She couldn't forget the image of bullets and fire erupting from each barrel as they spun- creating a firework of art with each rotation. It certainly explained why the tips of every barrel were charred black, something she had assumed was a cosmetic choice.
"Old habits," Fahrenheit replied, somewhat balancing the heavy weapon on her bent leg as she seemed more focus on her cigarette. "Makes more sense than Whispers."
Glory ran her finger over the name carved into the body of the minigun.
She wasn't surprised that the woman had noticed- after all, that's where Ash Marker was labeled as well.
"An old friend," Glory spoke, "he's gone now, so... I remember him however way I can."
Fahrenheit nodded, and said nothing else.
Despite her best attempts to stay focus on the mountain of work in front of her, Glory kept finding herself distracted by thoughts of Fahrenheit.
Something about her just... stuck to her- she couldn't shake herself of the red-haired, fire-shooting woman.
Quiet, but not reserved.
Fahrenheit didn't lack words, or breath, but rather intention. She had no purpose to waste her breath on someone who didn't garner her attention. And she certainly wouldn't waste the trading of her words with someone who held no purpose to her. Her attention was like a business; if you couldn't keep her interested, you weren't worth the pay.
And yet, the woman had spoken to her, and had no issues with it.
They barely knew each other, and yet, Fahrenheit acted like she was the only person in the Commonwealth that she could trust. Whatever it was inside of her that Fahrenheit saw, or that Fahrenheit liked, Glory didn't know.
Hell, there was a lot of her to like, so she wasn't surprised.
Wouldn't be surprised if Fahrenheit had fallen head over heels in love with her- wouldn't be the first time.
Although something told her that that wasn't exactly Fahrenheit's forte.
Kicking at the loose rocks at her feet, Glory glanced around the quiet HQ- taking note that everyone seemed to be asleep for right now. She could hear Dez in the next room talking to one of the safe houses over the radio, trying to figure out where she needed to be sent next. After the mix up at Malden Center, Dez promised her that they would try to avoid another situation like that- and she had to give props to the woman for actively taking steps to do so. It slowed down her work orders some, but she'd much rather deal with the few minutes of downtime than haul ass halfway across the Commonwealth, only to find the matter being resolved.
... It gave her some down time to try and figure out what it was about Fahrenheit that stuck so heavily on her. It wasn't that she didn't make nice with people, she just... was usually too busy to stick around long enough to know them. Everything about the Railroad business was about getting people in and out, and moved around, as quickly as possible. Half the time, Glory didn't even know someone's name before they were gone.
And yet, she wanted to get to know Fahrenheit.
In this business it might be impossible to, but... she was all about taking chances, and making risks.
"Alright, you'll need to head to Ticonderoga first; High-Rise knows a shortcut to where you'll need to go," Desdemona spoke, as she walked back into the main room where Glory was seated. "I know you hate keeping your head low, but we need absolute silence on this one."
Glory frowned slightly, before she pushed herself to her feet. "Fine- but no promises."
Desdemona shook her head in what might've been exasperation, but said nothing; after all, there was no telling what might happen out there- thus, no promises. "Fine, just stay safe, alright? And if you see Charmer anywhere out there, tell her to come see me when she can."
"Why? Missing your cuddle buddy?" Glory teased, watching as the woman choose to ignore her, and lit the cigarette on her lips. She snort slightly to bite back a laugh, before she headed out.
In way, she though she might like getting to know Fahrenheit the same way Charmer got to know Desdemona.
Fahrenheit breathed out smoke as she watched the Neighborhood Watch mingle in the streets below.
It was getting late.
There was a slight chill in the air and people were already locking up shop and putting their merchandise away as they headed home for the night. Everyone but KL-E-0 and Daisy anyways, who preferred to keep their stores open throughout the night. Made sense for KL-E-0 to do so since sleep, or a shutdown script wasn't necessary for her, but it was strange for Daisy not to. The woman catnapped here or there, probably to keep better track of her caravans, who came through at all hours of the night.
Fahrenheit made a note to check in on Daisy later- just to make sure KL-E-0 hadn't gotten to her.
She wouldn't admit that she had taken Glory out to get rid of those Super Mutants to lessen the chance of giving KL-E-0 the opening that she wanted. After all, that was her plan for the Neighborhood Watch- get them riled up and going some place, and then set bombs out to catch them off-guard. Smart, but easily defuse-able.
...
Her mind shifted in and out of focus though at the memory.
She thought about the woman she had 'befriended' days before. She had never seen a woman like Glory before- never seen someone who shared similar interests and appeals as her. Very few things intrigued Fahrenheit, but this woman, this Glory... she intrigued her; the woman had caught her attention and held quite tightly onto it.
From their first words, to their last, ranging just mere days apart from one another.
Something about Glory just... ignited a fire inside of her.
"You're moping more than usual, Fahrenheit."
Pushing herself from the open railing, she turned to see where Hancock was leaning against the open doorframe behind her; she had taken to smoking out on his speech balcony when she wanted privacy with her thoughts. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to get the hint.
He had that casual looking grin on his face- the one that said he was about to say something stupid in a few seconds.
"Missing that cute girlfriend of yours?"
And there it was.
Fahrenheit blew out one last breath of smoke, before she started back into the building.
Stubbing out her cigarette on the Ghoul's cheek before she did.
Glory very rarely dealt with rescued Synths directly- at least, not after the memory wipes.
That was what High-Rise was for.
Her job was to gun down anyone who tried to stand in his way.
It was easy most days, and even with the harder routes to clear, there was rarely much of a struggle. She preferred to be in the streets gunning down Raiders, than be stuck in the church, or a safe house, waiting for any sign of trouble to pop up. From the very day she started working with the Railroad, she wanted to be the one who got the dirty stuff done; she wanted to be the one who did the firing, who put their life on the line. After all, not every Synth who came out could do it; not every Railroad Agent was trained to do it. It came naturally to her, or at least that's how it felt most days.
Maybe she liked the adrenaline rush, or... maybe this was just her way of paying back Desdemona and the Railroad.
Sometimes her routes were so perfectly preserved, and undetected, that her minigun services weren't always needed. Sometimes she went days without having to return to the same route for routine clearing. It was a rare case of course, and only happened every now and again; but when it did occur, she was normally left bored out of her mind- waiting for something to happen. Waiting to put her minigun back into action.
But today, she got a distressed call from one of the safe houses that Dr. Amari needed assistance with one of the rescued Synths.
It sounded urgent so Dez sent her ahead.
... Only to find out that the issue had been resolve an hour before she arrived at the Memory Den.
"Sorry for the trouble, but one of your people already came by," Dr. Amari spoke. "The matter has been resolved for the time being."
Glory knew that Dez was working on the communication, and had done a great deal with avoiding these types of situations... But in certain situations, she supposed it was impossible to avoid.
Still, in the end, there was no need for her to haul ass all the way out here. And with the sun going down, she risked traveling in the dark- which wasn't an issue for her; she blended in well with the shadows, she just didn't like nighttime traveling. It wasn't her favorite thing to do, although she certainly would if needed be. But after an ordeal like this, she figured she'd much rather down a few beers at the bar and waste some caps on a motel room.
Charmer was back at the HQ when she left, so if anything happened while she was gone, it could be handled.
Leaving the Memory Den, Glory made her way across the street to the Third Rail, and headed down into the modified subway tunnel.
The smell of chems and booze greeted her as she walked in- as did the sultry voice of the jazz singer on stage. The woman could certainly carry a tune, and seemed to be enjoying herself up there.
"You're a sight to see down here."
Glory paused at the voice, barely halfway to the bar counter, before she turned to see Fahrenheit seated at one of the bar couches- looking about as relaxed as she could probably get. There was a cold-looking beer bottle, half finished, in one hand.
"Well, this is my look of frustration," Glory replied, gesturing briefly to her face.
The woman might've cracked a smile at the words, it was hard to tell, before she turned her attention towards the bar. "Charlie, give my friend here some courtesy, would you? And put it on my tab."
"Of course."
Fahrenheit gestured to the open couch space next to her with her beer bottle. "Sit."
Glory gave no objection, and moved to sit next to her- making sure to loosen and drop her rig first, before she threw herself onto the couch. It felt nice to get off of her feet every once in awhile; it felt even better to give herself a break or two when she needed them. And not just a quick nap in the back of the HQ- but a real chance at having some down time.
She watched as the white, accent-speaking Mr. Handy floated over to them and hand-delivered the two drinks, before he puttered back to the bar- stopping long enough to compliment the singer on stage.
"So what are you here for? Business?" Fahrenheit guessed, as she finished downing her first beer, before she set it on the table in front of them; the same table she had one leg propped up against.
"Yeah, or at least I was until it resolved itself," Glory replied, still a little bitter over the situation, before she took her first sip of the beer in hand; it went down cold and hard, which was just the way she liked it. "And I could make my way back home, or... I could waste a few hours here first; I haven't decided."
"You've already sat down and started drinking. You've made your choice," Fahrenheit remarked.
"And what a good choice it is."
It wasn't hard to get lost in the sultry music that played in the background of their conversations.
Time and time again, Glory found herself staring at the red-dressed woman who captivated the drunk audience; some of the more drunken members burst into tears at the sound of her voice. The woman in red sang song after song for the crowd, until she eventually called for a break and promised everyone with a wink that she would be back soon.
"I have to rest the old vocal chords- wouldn't want to go hoarse on you fine people."
She got a standing ovation when she left.
"You're looking at her like she's an old friend," Fahrenheit observed, arm strung across the back of the couch, nearly over Glory's shoulders.
Glory glanced to her for a moment, eyeing her carefully- taking in the burned woman's somewhat relaxed features. She chuckled lightly, and leaned her head back- resting it against Fahrenheit's forearm. "M9-09. I never forget a rescued Synth."
"Is that so?" Fahrenheit questioned, sipping at the remainder of what might've been her third or fourth beer. "Just how long have you been in your kind of business?"
"Couple of years."
"What made you get into that kind of shit anyways?" Fahrenheit continued.
Glory offered a brief laugh this time and downed the rest of her beer. "G7-81," she offered as an answer.
Fahrenheit looked to her once more, saying nothing at first, before she nodded. "You must have some damn interesting stories then."
"So must you, Forged," Glory replied, as one hand moved to brush fingertips against her scar. "We should swap one day."
"Maybe."
Fahrenheit smoked one too many cigarettes.
The ashtray nearby was nearly full of the smoldering remains of previous smokes- a good half dozen or so that have been pressed between her firm lips, or tucked between her fingers.
It reminded Glory of Dez; of how often she would pace around the HQ, smoking, maybe trying to hide the occasional shakiness in her hands. The woman blamed it on her age, said her hands weren't nearly as strong, or as stable as they used to be. Glory figured it was a lie, but never said anything on it. She had seen Dez pick up a Gauss Rifle with no problem- watched her hold and pull the trigger to get the most out of every bullet. She had seen Desdemona, leader of the Railroad, or rather Railroad Alpha as PAM had affectionately called her before, blow a clean hole through three GEN-1 Synths with one Rifle charge. All for the sake of survival.
It wasn't her hands that were weak.
Still, it reminded her of Carrington always getting on Dez's case about her smoking, telling her to either slow it down, or quit altogether. Dez never listened though; Glory figured the woman was more interested in the now, rather than the later. After all, there was no telling when the next Switchboard might come for them. Might as well enjoy the present while they still had it.
Glory watched as Fahrenheit breathed smoke as she dropped her cigarette- watching as silver, wisps of smoke filtered out through her lips. It was oddly agonizing to watch, agonizing to wait.
One too many beers, she told herself.
It had been awhile since she had a night off- although this certainly wasn't an official one by any means, but Dez would understand. Never really figured out what her limit on drinking was though, or how alcohol affected her overall; she guessed the Institute never thought to run tests on it, then again liquor wasn't really available to Synths down there.
No fun allowed, after all.
Glory waited until Fahrenheit drew her cigarette away from her lips once more, blowing out one more puff of smoke, before she leaned into her- catching her still heated, smoky lips on hers.
There was no hint of surprise; it was almost as though Fahrenheit had been waiting for her, or waiting for the right time to strike instead.
Fahrenheit's arm was still strung across the back of the couch, and Glory felt it drape itself over the back of her neck before the woman pulled her in against her.
Her lips were firm and yet gave away easily to Glory's tongue.
Her mouth was hot, and her tongue equally eager.
Glory hardly cared to remember where they were, but no one else in the bar seemed to notice. All the patrons were all too enthralled in their own drunken wonderland- too enthralled with the background music that continued to sweep them off their feet.
But not her, not Glory.
She was wrapped up in Fahrenheit, in the warmth of her mouth, and the heated touch of her hands as they moved over her. Her rough, callous fingers reminded Glory of her minigun, of Ash Maker, whose barrels burned red and spewed fire. Blackened tips from too many battles, from too many fires- like her scarred palms and misaligned knuckles from too many cuts and broken bones.
Fahrenheit pulled back first, lips now red like her hair- like her scar. Chest a little heavy, and fingers curled tight into her palms. Despite the situation, there was no change in her face, not even a spit of reaction; except in her eyes, which were heavy-lidded and dilated now. Glory always found it odd that humans reacted like that, but often wondered if that was how she looked in this moment was well.
"There's the hotel," she offered.
The suggestion alone already had Glory at her feet, and retrieving her rig from the floor. "Don't you have a place here?" she questioned.
Fahrenheit snorted slightly and got up as well. "Believe me, you don't want to go back there."
She didn't doubt the woman by any means, but still cracked a grin. "Oh? You don't want to give me one of those world famous 'house tours' then?"
Quite frankly, she deserved the glare she got in response.
The hotel was hardly a place of privacy, but for now, it was the best thing Glory had ever seen.
It wasn't like she could complain after all; it wasn't like the HQ offered much, if any, privacy at all- as Charmer and Desdemona had proven.
There was a door that could be locked, and a bed that was propped off the floor- both of which were commodities these days. They made it easy to forget about the occasional hole in the wall that opened up to the hallway outside. But the lady at the front desk said that it was a slow night, and that this floor was empty anyways.
Still, Glory pitied the person who might've had the room underneath them; especially considering that the first thing they did was drop their rigs, and all of their armor right onto the floor. Never minding just how much noise they made, or how their rigs made the floorboards shake. And it wasn't like they were at all considerate with kicking their shoes aside and getting the rest of their clothes stripped off.
Not to mention the horrible shriek the bed, and its accompanying frame made when they fell onto it in union.
It had been awhile since Glory had last shared a mattress with someone- if only long enough to get the deed done and then move on. And even then, it was more of a stress-reliever kind of thing. The Railroad business wasn't easy, and everyone had their bad days- sometimes just ten minutes on your back was enough to get through the rest of the day.
But this... this was more than just an one-two kind of thing.
This was rough, pale hands roaming over her body, touching and exploring- getting friendly and familiar with her darker skin. This was lips pressed against hers, before they moved to the curve of her throat, and then the nape of her neck in sliding kisses. Hot lips and hot breath worked down to her chest, breathing in the smell of gunpowder and bullets, and breathing out smoke and liquor that pooled between her breasts.
This was Fahrenheit showcasing more than just the scar on her face, but the scars on her shoulders and back as well. The heat of knotted tissue that felt like crumbled notes underneath Glory's fingertips.
Messy kisses and firm hands.
Wet legs and fingers as they explored an aroused system of nerves and pleasure.
Fahrenheit had burn scars down there too, knotted between her legs, but she laughed when Glory asked about them- insisting that they weren't serious.
"A... let's say mishap, on my part," the woman breathed, long, sharp breaths as Glory's fingers traced the worn down burns with persistent fingertips. "Doesn't bother me. But the few people who have experienced them said that they liked the scars. Gives it texture and friction- makes it fun."
Glory decided to take her up on the offer.
She planted Fahrenheit on her back, and didn't waste time as she dipped her mouth between her legs. The woman shifted underneath her, fingers pulling at the loose sheets as Glory traced the small, webbed scars with her tongue- feeling the knotted texture on her lips. The appeal of the scars that wrapped up Fahrenheit's thighs and met against the curve of her outer labia was almost immediate. It could've been from body heat, or the arousal pooling between Fahrenheit's legs, but the scars still felt hot- burning against Glory's tongue and mouth.
Fahrenheit wasn't a woman of words, but she had no issue making sounds as Glory shifted between using her tongue and fingers on her; she enjoyed the way Fahrenheit moved underneath her, thighs trembling and hips pressing up against her mouth with every stroke of her tongue.
Maybe it was the mix of beer and smokes, pent up frustrations, and reluctant confessions, but they spent too many, and too few hours in that room, on that mattress.
Glory couldn't remember a time where she had ever been with someone like that before.
Her job didn't give her much time for breaks, so she usually just took what she could get, when she could get it.
But this...
In the aftermath, she has never had to nurse bite marks on the insides of her thighs- small, red punctured impressions that clustered a little too close together, and made any sense of movement bring attention to them. She has never been tempted to take a Med-X for the continuous ache between her legs- still feeling where fingers had made her cum enough times in a row that she swore she might need to retire everything below the waist for a week or more.
But it was addicting- the exhaustion from both the physical, and emotional aspects of it all.
Fahrenheit laid next to her, a half-lit cigarette on her lips, as she rubbed at her sore breasts- reddened and partly bruised by Glory's hands. There were shadows of her hands still curled around them, and impressions of her lips still hooked around the woman's dark, tender nipples.
"I like you," Fahrenheit whispered, blowing out smoke, as she moved her hands to rub at her thighs now- which were also reddened and bruised.
Glory laughed, and rolled her neck as she tried to get the stiff kink out of it. "I like you too."
Glory rode out on a high for the next few days- something that seemed common upon leaving Goodneighbor.
She stepped back into work without so much as skipping a beat, but her mind was constantly going back to that night spent in the opened wall hotel. She found herself still laughing at how the both of them tried to ignore the glare the woman at the front desk had given them when they departed the next morning. It wasn't like they were promised privacy, but... Glory supposed they could've tried to keep it down some. Apparently both complaints, and compliments, had been given that night.
Desdemona didn't say a thing when she returned a little later than usual.
But Glory knew that the woman was fully aware of what she had partaken in during her absence.
After all, she was sporting the kinds of marks, and the bounce in her step, that a night with Charmer often cursed the Railroad Alpha with.
It was a mutual sense of trust, and understanding- and a silent congratulations on a job well fucking done.
...
It was a feeling that lingered on for days.
One that was immediately shot down the moment Charmer returned, carrying the weight of bad news on her shoulders.
"You can't be serious," Desdemona spoke, although the tone in her voice was far from disbelieving.
"I wish I wasn't," Charmer sighed, hands knitted over the back of her neck as she paced around the circular coffin in the center of the room; the one they disgraced with ink-riddled maps. "But the Institute would have no reason to lie, and... quite frankly, they get to ride on the Brotherhood's backs, so this would work out in their favor."
Desdemona fiddled with the pencil in hand, not so much as looking nervous, but apprehensive. "Okay, if that's the case then-"
The explosion in the back corridor cut Desdemona off, and shook the catacombs around them.
There was no time to wait, or prepare.
The Brotherhood had arrived...
Glory gritted her teeth and dug her heels into the ground as she let her minigun loose.
As she listened to the sounds of bullets tearing through stone and armor, piercing soft flesh and organs as the first two Brotherhood soldiers went down in screams and blood. The adrenaline was pounding away in her ears as she shifted weight and aimed the next belt of bullets at the walking piece of armor coming towards her. There was only one way in in front of her, and it was a tight-squeeze for power armor- not a wise choice to bring that down here.
She heard the sound of yelling and guns being fired behind her.
Everyone had rushed to where their emergency exit had been blown open, where a bulk of the Brotherhood soldiers were coming in. Charmer led the defensive strike, but she could hear the loud, piercing sound of Dez's Gauss Rifle echoing in the tight spaces. With a narrow field of view, and barely any room to turn around, that rifle was just as deadly as her minigun.
The Brotherhood cut off their exit and swarmed both entrances to pin them in and turn them into fish in a barrel. But this would not be another Switchboard; she would not lose another Tommy, or another safe house. She wouldn't lose Dez, or Deacon, or Carrington, or Tom. Not even Drummer Boy. And certainly not PAM.
... She was the only one who went to the front though.
She was the only one here to take down the Brotherhood unit that was attempting to rush in.
Glory barely felt the bullets that pierced through her armor- at least not at first.
But it didn't take long for the hot, stinging pain to set in as bullets hit flesh and ribs.
As her own blood began to drip and spill down around her feet.
But she didn't move.
Glory didn't stop until her minigun clicked empty- until the barrels were red enough that there was visible smoking coming off of them, and the smell of sulfur and burning metal fumigated the air around her. Her mind was scrambling to piece things together through the pain and adrenaline, through the screaming both inside and outside of her head.
But the smoke reminded her of the Ash Marker.
Reminded her of Fahrenheit.
Reminded her of hands and heat, of how the woman left burn scars all over her.
Glory barely felt her minigun fall from her numb hands, barely even felt them shaking uncontrollably as blood dripped off her fingertips. She didn't feel the bullets that had pierced her arms, and still couldn't, even though the weight of her minigun had torn the wounds open further. The Brotherhood tried to disarm her, both physically and potentially literally, but... they failed.
She barely felt herself hit the ground, but managed to prop herself up against the wall nearby to make the descent a little easier. Not a single Brotherhood piece of shit got past her though. Damn fanatics were drowning in their own pools of blood, in their own armor which was hopefully suffocating them with the additional unbearable weight. At the very least, she had bought everyone some time- time to get out of here, relocate temporarily as they always did.
With the Brotherhood weakening them, it wouldn't be long before the Institute followed.
She hated having to run, but... if they stayed, than this sacrifice would be for nothing.
Call her selfish, but she couldn't have that happen.
...
Glory was barely able to keep herself upright to keep breathing.
She kept thinking of the blood in her lungs, heavy and dark- reminding her of smoke.
Reminding her of Fahrenheit.
Fahrenheit had heard of the Brotherhood's recent increase in activity.
She had her sources.
As did Daisy, as did KL-E-0.
She knew they were looking for the Institute- gossip she had overheard from Nora, as well as from a few other merchants who passed through Goodneighbor. They were looking for anything and everything that might help them locate the Commonwealth's boogeyman. They demanded any information, or any piece of technology someone might have that could aid their search; sometimes taking both by force if necessary.
Fahrenheit was never one for an organized militia of the sort- because after awhile, with enough power, it became an organized crime ring. And with no one to keep tabs on them, or keep them in their place, they had free range to do as they pleased- all under the guise that they were helping.
"Fahrenheit, sweetheart," Daisy called, waving to her from her store the moment Fahrenheit walked back in from one of her runs.
She had decided to keep tabs on what was going on around Goodneighbor now- making sure the Brotherhood didn't try to wave their dicks around in Hancock's jurisdiction. At the same time, she was looking for Glory. She hadn't seen the woman in quite some time now, but knowing the Railroad business, she wasn't surprised. Not to mention, with the Brotherhood activity picking up, there was no doubt that the Railroad was trying to keep its head down in the meantime to avoid detection.
She made her way over to the shopkeeper- taking notice of her worried expression.
"Daisy," Fahrenheit nodded.
"Listen, I got some bad news from one of my guys," Daisy spoke. "Apparently all this Brotherhood activity has a purpose... They found the Railroad."
She wouldn't admit to the unsettling chill that raced through her body.
"I don't have much information on what happened, but all I know is what my guys overheard from one of the units buying supplies. Apparently there was a huge gun fight, and there's no telling which side came out alive."
Her hands were shaking now as lips pressed tightly together.
"Now... I know that cute girl you're always sending things to is... possibly a part of the track, so I thought you should know."
The whole story with the Railroad was that they both did and did not exist. No one ever directly saw them to confirm their existence, but there was too much evidence to deny it at the same time.
She knew, and Hancock knew, but they both turned a blind eye to it all.
As it would turn out, the Railroad was quite visible once you knew what to look for.
Still... their actual place of hiding was never known, or even found.
Glory never told her, which suited her just fine; she never asked to begin with- it wasn't any of her business. Privacy made the world go round, and kept people from finding you, kept people from backstabbing you. At the same time, it made people angry and distrustful, but... everything came at a price.
"Do you know where they hit?" Fahrenheit asked, physically restraining her voice to keep it calm.
"Not exactly, but the guys said that the Old North Church was mentioned a few times," Daisy answered. "... Are you going to go?"
"... Yes."
Getting to the Old North Church only took a few hours following the broken down highway outside of Goodneighbor.
Hancock came with her under the insistence that the Brotherhood might still be in the area. And if that was the case than she would need back-up. Fahrenheit was half-convinced that he only came because he was scared.
Scared of losing all those people.
He would never admit that he openly liked the Railroad, but she knew that he saw their cause as being noble- something that he could likening himself to. He took over Goodneighbor to try and save the people who had been condemned everywhere else.
Which was exactly what the Railroad was trying to do.
...
The Old North Church showed signs of battle.
The front door had been ripped off, exposing the collapsed pews inside.
If there was one good thing to come from the Brotherhood storming this place, it was that they showed her exactly where to go. A hidden passage under the crumbling staircase was something she might've either missed, or overlooked. But the doorframe was freshly broken- no doubt by power armor being forced through it.
The two of them descended into the underground catacombs.
"This place gives me the creeps," Hancock muttered under his breath.
She wanted to remark that he resembled some of the half-mummified bodies that remained in broken coffins that lined the walls, but she decided to keep her tongue. There were more important things at hand.
... She wouldn't admit to the pounding in her chest, or the sweatiness of her palms.
Turning one last, narrow corner, she stopped at the sound of a shotgun being cocked and watched as Nora stood at the end of the corridor; shotgun trained down the barrels at them.
It took a few too many turning seconds before the woman lowered her gun.
"Hancock? Fahrenheit?" Nora questioned; her tone mixed with fatigue and confusion. "What the hell are you doing down here?"
A noble question.
"Where's Glory?"
If there was one thing Fahrenheit was good at, besides shooting and killing, it was reading people. She spent a lot of her time standing back and studying body language- it helped her get the advantage in a tight situation, when she knew someone was getting ready to draw bullets. It helped her in situations where she knew someone was lying to Hancock, and she insisted on getting the truth out of them- one way or another.
And in this situation, it helped her brace herself for the worst as Nora stiffened at the question.
She watched as the woman slowly put her gun away, slinging it across her back as always.
"I'll take you to her."
Fahrenheit followed wordlessly and ducked through the damaged, false wall that took them down an even smaller corridor. Almost immediately, the smell of blood and wet dirt hit her in a heavy concentration- no doubt the lack of moving air down here helped the smell to fumigate, turning it almost toxic. She hated it. But she didn't skip a step as she followed at Nora's heels, eventually stepping down into a large open room.
In one corner, there were discarded, scrapped plates of power armor- and the dirt showed fresh signs of something heavy being dragged through it. Fahrenheit recognized the markings as that of body disposal.
But her stomach twisted into a knot as her eyes settled on the pool of blood in the center of the room; as they settled on the heavy impression left in the dirt. And she knew what it was, knew who it belonged to.
Whispers.
Nora took them through another door, and then down a flight of stairs.
"We uh... we have some unexpected guest, but don't worry, they're friendly; they're with me," Nora announced.
Fahrenheit descended after her and stepped into the room at the bottom of the stairs, stopping long enough to observe the people who stared back at her. They were all tense, but prepared- half of them had their hands on their guns already, despite Nora's words. She took a moment to realize how strange it was to be here- to be with Glory's people; her family as she had once referred to them as.
"Charmer, who is this?" a blonde-haired woman spoke as she stepped out from a side doorway. Her shirt and jacket were spotted with blood, and she was in the process of drying off her hands, which were also slickly red.
"This is Fahrenheit."
And that was all Nora had to say in answer.
"... I see," the woman nodded, before she gestured to the room behind her. "PAM's looking after her right now."
Nora gave a similar nod, before she turned back to her. "You can see her."
Fahrenheit barely heard, let alone waited, for Nora's words, before she pushed her way through the room- muscling aside anyone who might've been too slow to get out of her way. She made her way to the room towards her left and stepped in- ignoring the attempted hushed whispers that followed her.
...
She spotted the woman at the bottom of the stairs, lying still against a blood-stained mattress. Fahrenheit skirted down the stairs and dropped to her knees next to her- numbed by the sight of her alone.
Glory was without armor and upper clothing for the most part- but her torso was so heavily bandaged it didn't matter.
It was so heavily bandaged it didn't seem like she could even breathe.
But she could.
Long, labored kind of breaths.
But she was alive, and that was all that mattered to her.
Hands were gentle as Fahrenheit brushed them against Glory's cheeks, brushing aside loose, white strands of hair that slipped between fingers. She still wouldn't admit that she was shaking as she leaned down and brushed her lips against the woman's forehead. Her skin was warm- too warm, almost like the barrels of Ash Maker after a good fight. Like the barrels of Whispers finishing off a suit of power armor.
She felt both relief and anger all twisted and mixed into one emotion.
Glory was alive, but the Brotherhood was still guilty of trying to kill her.
"I thought I heard you coming through the catacombs, Forged."
Fahrenheit didn't fight back the smile that came to her at the voice.
The Pyrdwen went down the next day in retaliation.
And the Institute two days later as payback for Switchboard.
...
It took a week before Glory was back on her feet, toting her minigun and attitude as she scoured the Commonwealth for the misplaced Synths- gunning down whoever she had to in order to get them back. It was hard work, and about twice as much of a workload as it was before the destruction of the Institute, but nothing she couldn't handle. Nothing she didn't enjoy doing if it meant saving more Synths like her.
It took a week before she found time to go back to Goodneighbor.
To go back and greet the red-headed woman who met her at the door.
"Figured I might find you here," Glory smiled, one hand grabbing at Fahrenheit's as she pulled her into a brief kiss.
"Took you long enough," Fahrenheit replied.
"Yeah, maybe, but... do I have some stories to tell."