Fiction: Fallout 4

Summary: In her quest to locate her missing son, Ash stumbles upon the Cambridge Police Station… and the Brotherhood of Steel.

Category: Second Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not lay claim to any of the following work. While the writings themselves are my own, my character is created fully by myself, the other characters and story elements I do not own. I also do not own any of the Fallout 4 elements that are in play. Full credit goes to where it is due. Thank you. Thanks to Bethesda.

A rattle on the door handle startled me awake with a gasp, sleepy heavy eyes groggily scanning the room. My brain hadn't kick started yet, the hamster still conked out on its wheel.

Where am I again?

Hushed voices filtered in, "Damn thing is locked. You got a bobby on ya?"

"Naw man, and you know I'm not any good at that shit any ways. And neither are you. Last door you tried to pick, you broke." Both men, both with gravely voices. Settlers? Raiders? I couldn't tell from inside.

Recognition flickered to life. The Red Rocket Station… Shit.

I fumbled for the gun I owned, the rifle nestled in its holster on back of my pack. It still felt foreign to me no matter how much training Preston had attempted to put me through. Shooting at empty Nuka Cola bottles wasn't the same as shooting at a live target – one stood still and politely waited for you to shatter it, the other had the whole 'preserve life' instinct and would bob and weave all over the fucking place.

"There's gotta be something good inside for it to be locked."

"Man, who cares. Let's get back."

"Chancer'll be pissed if we don't bring anything."

"She can kiss my white ass. Bitch has gone off the deep end recently."

Chancer? I'd heard that name before. Well, read it. Chancer was a leader for one of the raider gangs that littered the Commonwealth. Her name had been listed on a terminal back at the Ironworks. All of the head honchos kept tabs on the others, kind of like a network of diabolical scumbags.

But this did confirm something for me: I was dealing with raiders.

I lifted my bag onto my shoulders as I stood on unstable legs, my gun rested awkwardly in my arms, the shooting bit aimed in the general direction of the door. The knob rattled again, one of the two men cursed loudly.

"Think we could just bash it in?"

"Looks pretty sturdy. Not sure we can do that."

"We could always just, I dunno, try. You got any better ideas hot shot?" Irritation, annoyance. Someone's patience was wearing thing. "I'm not a fan of just sitting around and waiting for results. We gotta bring something back with us. No fucking way am I being put on cook duty again. Fuck that shit."

The door shuddered in its hinges, the wood moaning in protest as one of the raiders slammed his shoulder against the precious barrier separating me from them. With another heave, it cried louder but still refused to budge. I recoiled, sinking further into the room, spine pressing against one of the exterior walls. My blue eyes flashed around the enclosed space. There had to be another way out… Most buildings pre-war had alternative routes in case of a fire…

There.

Far above my head was a window, just large enough for me to fit through. Getting to it, though, was another matter entirely.

Again the raiders ran at the door, again it quaked in reply, this time with the added sound of oak splintering. I was going to run out of time if I didn't act quickly.

Holstering the rifle, I grasped one of the desks along the far wall. Crouching down, I forced all of my weight against it, encouraging the desk to grind across the tiled floor. The counter screeched as metal grated on ceramic causing me to wince as my ear drums cringed.

"What's that?"

"It's coming from inside the room!"

"Someone's in there."

"Get this door open!" Their efforts began again, this time with renewed vigor. Amazing what a difference a chance at bloodshed could make for these guys.

"Come on, come on," I grunted, a sweat breaking out along the top of my forehead, auburn hair sticking to my face. Close enough, it would have to work. I scrambled up onto the structure, fingers outstretched for the latch on the window. Knowing I had precious little seconds left, I nimbly flipped the lock mechanism and edged the glass open. I jumped to bridge the gap, having to hold my one hundred pounds plus gear on nothing but my fingertips, I hissed in a pained breath as the frame cut into the soft skin of my hands, not quite drawing blood but enough to make me acutely aware of the metal's presence.

The door buckled, hinges on the verge of giving up as I hoisted myself through the opening. Half way through I twisted my body around so my back was facing the ground, grasping the top of the window frame for support as I yanked my legs through. My thigh screamed, white hot agony rocketing through my senses, reminding me that I still wasn't fully healed. But right now, right now it didn't matter. Right now, I had to breathe through the pain and get out.

I landed heavily on the other side, my balance almost lost as I tumbled a few paces until I regained my composure. A crash from the inside indicated that the raiders were finally through, their angered voices echoing out through the window.

"Where'd they go?"

"Up there! Though the window!"

"Holy fucking hell, leave me alone," I muttered, grasping a grenade from my belt. Guns… guns you had to aim and you had a narrow margin of accuracy if you sucked at using them, like I did. However, grenades? Grenades were wonderful devices. As long as you got it in the close vicinity of where you wanted it, the damage was massive. Perfect for shit soldiers like myself.

Pulling the pin free, I lobbed the grenade back through the opening… and took off running in the opposite direction. Their surprised shouts were audible just before the pint sized nuke detonated, the explosion blasting outwards. The force was enough to send me sprawling into the dirt, the wind forced from my lungs. My face bashed harshly against the earth. I coughed, sucked in air to allow oxygen to my brain, blinked a few times to clear the dust from my vision. As I moved to a crouching position, I ran a hand across my face… flinching when my head ached where it had contacted with the ground. That was going to leave a bruise.

But I at least was in the clear for a moment. Still… It wasn't safe here… not anymore. Staying here meant others would likely follow. Sanctuary would be fine with all of their turrets and fire power but I was on my own. It was time to move.

Reassuring that my pack was securely in place, I stood fully, stretching out my sore muscles. Then sun was just beginning to peek out over the horizon, cascading an orange glow across the Commonwealth. The Red Rocket Station's shadow reached out towards the sinking night sky and, with it, the crisp November air.

"Not how I wanted to start my morning," I whispered to myself, peering down at my PipBoy, tapping the screen a few times to wake it up. "And too damn early." The clock read 0630. I had only been asleep for a little over an hour.

With a heavy sigh I turned myself south towards Concord. My goal was to make it to Cambridge before I took a break. Even with my head pounding and leg nagging, I could manage a decent walking pace.

I had to.

-oOo-

Two hours later I was making my way into the northern edge of Cambridge. The post-nuka-hell air pressed down around me like a thick blanket, making my shirt plaster to my back. It was suffocating; the heat pounding and enduring, sinking into everything it touched. The humidity made it nearly impossible to get a good breath in, running was out of the question. The buildings provided little shade, and what was present wasn't enough to drown out the sun's wraith.

I paused then, leaning against the side of what used to be a post office. The lobby was empty, counters void of workers, files overturned and tossed haphazardly around the stained carpeted floor. A shadow of its former glory, like the rest of the city. Sometimes it felt like I was dreaming, like none of this was real – just figments of my memories contorted into a grotesque reality I didn't want to believe in.

But, this wasn't a dream, and I was already awake.

With a heavy sigh I pushed away from the building and started my trek once more.

I vaguely wondered if Preston had noticed my absence as of yet. Or if he found out that Struges had known of it all along.

Sorry, man, hope you came up with a half-assed decent excuse as to why I wasn't turning up for guard duty. If I wasn't back by the end of the day, I was certain Garvey would send a search party after me. I doubted he would just shrug it off and move on. I wouldn't be lucky enough for that shit.

The scoped rifle kept up a steady thump as it bounced against my leather armored back, the 10 mm pistol cozy at my thigh in its holster, and my grenades secured to my belt, resting against my hip. I felt safer with the gear even though I was less than adequate at using it. I thought of it was insurance – it was there if I needed it, even though it was complete and utter crap.

I crossed the uneven terrain with ease, muscles relaxing the more I walked. I did my best to ignore the throbbing pain in my left leg with each step. Sorry, honey, the apocalypse wasn't a world for sissies, best to just walk it off. But even I had to admit Preston was right about one thing: I should have brought more backup. The second I heard that I would be going up against the fire-loving Forged raiders, I should have turned tail and gone for help. Instead, me and my thick head went charging into the Ironworks like I owned the damn place.

FYI, Molotovs and cotton didn't mesh well together, not unless your intention is to go up in flames… like my leg. It was on the mend now, sure, but, if I wasn't careful, it could easily get infected…

And I was pretty fucking certain that there wasn't going to be a ready supply of antibiotics if that were to happen.

According to my mental GPS, I was nearing Main Street, and if my memory served me right (which it very well might not considering that the world can do a mighty lot of changing in a 200 year span of time), the subway tunnels and police station weren't too far off. I hadn't traveled this far away from Sanctuary as of yet. This was bad because I was waltzing my gorgeous ass into unfamiliar territory but good because I may get a new lead as to what happened to my baby boy.

Unfortunately, I knew nothing of his kidnappers. Didn't think to glance at their clothing for any sort of insignia or sign that would give me a lead. At the time, I had only one thought on my mind: give me back my baby. Foolish on my part, idiotic.

I shook my head, sighing as I begrudgingly trudged past the towering buildings. I remembered Lexington being a crown jewel before the bombs destroyed it all. The once glistening buildings were a crumbled heap of cobblestone and brick, caved in roofs, and bent and broken sign posts. Shattered glass littered the ground, large cracks adorned most of the streets. If I listened carefully, I could hear the sound of molerats just below the surface. Best to tread lightly.

Faded gunshots in the distance, towards what I assumed to be the police station, brought me to a halt. I crouched behind an overturned car, peering out around the hood to get a glimpse of what I was walking into.

The open expanse ahead of me was shrouded in concrete. The subway station was off to the right with a few alley ways winding back into the larger structures that dwarfed the streetway. Sun glittered off of the window panes that remained, the air calm.

Too calm.

A low moan just ahead of me caught my attention as a feral ghoul oozed out from behind a downed mailbox. It wavered to its feet, steps uncoordinated and sloppy, arms limply swaying with each movement, jaws slack. Its head swiveled from side to side, golden eyes squinting, teeth chatting.

I could recall the first time I saw a ghoul – the way my heart raced and ached in unison. Both terrified but remorseful for what happened to these people. Unlucky enough to be without a vault for shelter, pounded with radiation when the bombs dropped… Their bodies mutated into little more than zombies, brains roasted beyond repair. They lived tragic lives… Their only desires were to kill and eat and sleep. It used to break my heart, knowing I would have to shoot them, these innocent people.

Now? Now they were little more than a fucking obstacle between and my son and I had no qualms with blowing their brains out through the back of their skulls.

It sounded brutal but it was a dog eat dog world, kill or be killed. I learned that the hard way once and I wasn't going to sit around on my ass and be fooled twice. No. I had a son to rescue, and nothing was going to get in my way.

I habitually bit my bottom lip as I gingerly edged around the corner of the parked car, keeping my right shoulder to the vehicle as I turned, raising my rifle and taking aim. On inhale, I ensured that my aim was perfect, on exhale I fired. The bullet pierced through the air, whistling as it zeroed in on the ghoul's skull… and soared right past it. The beastie pivoted on its feet, gawking at me with a dumbfound expression plastering on its decaying face. It lurched towards me, arms outstretched and it ambled my way. I scampered out of cover, dancing to the right. The rifle felt uncomfortable in my hands, too big for me to hold properly.

But now wasn't the time to quibble and come up with dumbass excuses.

Launching forward, I raced towards the ghoul. Using the momentum to swing the butt of my gun around, I pummeled the face of my opponent right as its fingers moved to grab ahold of my chest. "Sorry buddy, I don't sway for your type." If the weapon was useless to me as a gun, I was going to have to use it for melee. It wasn't perfect but it would suffice.

Another feral sauntered into the street, exiting from an alleyway and what I assumed to be the source of the commotion that had originally forced me to slow down.

If I could get to the shooting, I could get help.

The ghoul made eye contact with me, saliva pooling out of the corner of his agape mouth, nose punched inwards, and skin peeling. My stomach twisted, bile rose in my throat. I had to get past him to get to the station.

I started forwards, zigzagging across the expanse rather than opting for a direct route towards my target, the gunshots in the distance grew louder the closer I got. Shrapnel and dirt plinked off the sides of buildings and cars, the echo of someone shouting orders to comrades. Not raiders but actual people. Just had to get there…

I was almost upon the ghoul, he stood a few mere feet from me. My muscles tensed as I began to raise my rifle, brandishing it above my head like a club, and-

Ping! Ping!

With a gasp I leapt backwards for cover, the ground lurching in response to the detonation as a frag mine exploded in a mass of smoke. My shoulder smashed into a concrete median, tender skin slicing on contact as ghoul guts splattered across the road.

I scurried to my feet, eyes wide at the pulverized feral corpse, taking the briefest of moments to thank whoever was listening that the mine had been there. My grip tightened on my rifle as I darted down the alleyway.

They alley was more or less deserted but the combat ahead was still heated. The ghouls must have been coming in from another opening. I leapt over a garbage can, squeezed through a chain-link fence, rounded the corner, entered a pair of gates… and instantly came face to face with a laser rifle barrel. I inhaled sharply, raising both my hands (my left still holding my own gun) in the air. "Don't shoot!" I bit out, knowing my face had gone a few shades paler. The owner of the rifle gave me a hard glare, his face the only thing visible amidst all of the power armor he wore.

"You nearly got yourself killed, civilian!" he barked in response, his grimace indication enough that I had grievously annoyed him. "We are dealing with a horde of ghouls, now is not the best time to be throwing around heroics."

Not the greeting I had expected.

"Excuse me?" I snipped back, arching a brow at the man. "I can take care of myself." Which was a huge fucking lie on my part but this ass didn't need to know that. Tiny details, unimportant.

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" he replied, grip tightening on his gun though he did lower it away from my face.

"Danse!" a woman from the crumbling steps called, "More are coming! Watch your six!"

"On it, Haylen! Rhys, watch the southeast gate!"

"Yes sir!" a man I could only assume was Rhys agreed… after he gave me a disgusted look as if I was little more than the gore he picked off his shoes at the end of a long day. Up yours too, buddy. Good to know that my 'saviors' were a bunch of biggots.

Power armor guy…. Danse… Gave me a once over, the corner of his lips turning down into a frown, likely not thrilled with my ragtag-barely-holding-together armor. "You don't seem well equipped, but as long as you are so sure of yourself, you can offer some assistance."

"You wanna make sure I know which way to point my gun before sending me out?" I heatedly commented.

I was rewarded with an eye roll.

Feral ghouls raced into the fenced clearing, crazed and manic. The sound of gunshots behind me gave evidence that Rhys and Haylen had begun their own assault on the southeast gate, leaving Danse and I to man the southwest. Though his movements were sluggish gratis to all the power armor he wore, Danse was a capable fighter. His tactics were precise, quick, and without hesitation – proof that he had likely years of training to get in his current position. On the other hand, mine were slow, lacking any sort of strategy. I was aiming to be more of a distraction than anything else.

And to be of any worth, I knew I had to move up. Shooting and I? Not on speaking terms. But I was very intimidate with melee. I wasn't strong but my agility could at least work to my benefit. I lunged headstrong into a feral, swinging my rifle in a wide arc, the stock hurtling into the ghoul's flank and sending him careening into the fence post.

"Civilian, you're too far ahead!"

"What-"

I slammed against the side of the wooden outpost with an agonized cry, twisted splinters dug into my exposed forearms and neck. Grimy fingers, coated in slime and pus clawed at my armor, arms flailing wildly as I desperately tried to push the ghoul off of me. My rifle dropped uselessly at my feet as I scrambled to get ahold on the feral before his teeth could sink into my shoulder or face. Fumbling for the pistol on my hip granted me with an explosion of pain to the side of my head as my opponent managed to crudely bash me with his free arm.

I struggled, kicking and pushing as his jaws neared my throat, grasping out blindly.

Metal hands appeared around the sides of the ghoul, yanking him from me before peppering his body full of holes. Danse gritted his teeth, staring down at me. "Stand down, your recklessness will get you killed." He hastily handed me my rifle and rejoined combat effortlessly.

I did as ordered and maneuvered back behind him, using his power armor as a means of cover, darting around him to make a few shots before retreating once more. It was safer but I felt powerless.

It was only a matter of minutes before the horde deceased, leaving the four of us winded and gasping for air… Okay, that was a lie. Three of us were winded and gasping for air, Danse was peachy keen, sunshine and rainbows.

"Good shooting, sir," Rhys complimented, looking little more than a child searching for praise from his adoring parents as he beamed up at Danse. Then his gaze fell to me, turning dark and bitter. "No thanks to you, what kind of tactics were those?" An ugly gash laced around his jawline, deepening as it traveled towards his collar bone. Though he held a chunk of gauze to it, blood continued to seep out around the edges.

"Uh…?" I offered, brows furrowing. "At least I did something. I could have just waltzed on by and ignored this place altogether."

"We would have been just fine without you here. You nearly got Danse injured because of your foolishness!" He had a few valid points though based on the injuries both he and Haylen carried, I knew for certain that they had been on the brink of failure before I showed up. I may not have landed a single shot but I was enough to turn the tides in their favor, even if it was just because I was a distraction for the ghouls to fling themselves at.

"Oh, should I have skipped merrily on my way? You guys needed my help," I snarled back, sliding my rifle into its leather harness. My head swam from the blow and I was certain I had a good sized laceration running over my cheek bone, nothing a few stimpacks and bandages couldn't fix. Hopefully

.

"You should have fucked off!" Rhys continued.

"Rhys," Haylen stepped in, gently shaking her head. "We should be thankful she showed up. We may have been able to handle it on our own but we should never look down on help."

Rhys waved a gloved hand dismissively and headed into the police station. Haylen let a slow sigh pass her lips, solemnly watching him retreat. "Sorry about him, he gets really… into… his work. The Brotherhood means everything to him."

I blinked up at her, confusing coloring my features. "Sorry, the what now?"

"The Brotherhood. Of Steel. Patrolling the wasteland and hunting down ghouls, super mutants, and synths in order to make sure that the good people are safe," Haylen was eyeing me as if I had just spoken another language. "Did you get hit a little too hard?"

Had I? Brotherhood of Steel? Were they part of the military? Their uniforms indicated that may be the case but I couldn't be certain. Minutemen, Brotherhood of Steel… what was next?

"Haylen," Danse ordered, standing up from the ghouls he had been searching through. "Let's get this civilian into the station, get her wounds taken care of. Then we can talk more."

Yes, yes please. I was okay with this. Turns out they would help me. It was a start. And at least I was out of combat for the time being.

"Yes sir," Haylen briskly replied, motioning for me to follow so she could lead me inside. "You're going to like it here."

Funny, I wasn't so sure about that…