Thanks for reading this. I really appreciate it. And now for a few words to the reviewers. Geraldford, some of those ideas do sound interesting, but I'm not doing a training montage. Sorry. Feel free to send me any other ideas, preferably by pm. MrSquidly, thanks. I like how it's going, and I think it'll go on for a while.
I actually ended up writing this chapter two times. The first time was cut from chapter two and then thrown away since it was too parody-like. I kept a few lines. And hey, keep reviewing. Tell me how it sounds to you guys.
War and death never seemed quite as appealing as it did in that moment. For in that moment, all hell was breaking loose.
"Casdin, if you insult me one more time, I swear, I will string you up and hang you on the goddamn walls naked for all to see. Then I'll rip off your balls and feed them to the ferals. Hell, I might just piss on you, for all the crap you're saying here."
"For the love of God, Lyons, your father was a sentimental fool, and if you don't even consider my offer, you are as well. Just think about it rationally."
Screams. Shouting. A tall figure in black and red Outcast armor against Lyons in her typical power armor. It was hell's bells in there, rifles raised, heads in sight, and not a soul was exempt in this insanity.
"Rationally? I will not abandon Megaton just so you can use it for your damn excavations. There are people there, Casdin! How can you just ignore that? How is that rational? What are you even looking for?" Lyons said, unfazed by the guns pointed at her. She had fought, teeth and nails, through an entire platoon of Enclave before, and she sure as hell would not let these Outcasts scare her. She would be strong. "Is it worth all those lives? Is it?"
"That's Outcast business." Casdin crossed his arms, and in response, his troops behind him aimed all of their guns on Lyons alone, uncaring their lives were now forfeit in a firefight. The argument had gone on for several hours now, and neither side had gained any ground. If anything, things were worse. One twitch, and a firefight would break out in the middle of the Citadel.
"Outcast business? You want us to damn an entire town, and you won't tell us why? What the hell, Casdin? We are not discussing this," Lyons said, pounding the table to accentuate her point. This was supposed to be a meeting about the possibility of reunification, and here they were, repeating the same discussion that led to the rift. "We are not going to agree."
Casdin laughed. "A town? They're Wastelanders, Lyons. They're not worth a damn. If we just ignore them for one moment, we can make so many new discoveries. We could unlock the secrets behind technology man hasn't utilized in-"
"Just shut up and leave," Lyons said. Her eyes locked on his, and her mouth was set in a hard line. Even after all these years as Elder, she was having a very hard time keeping her cool. But if she reacted too violently, they could cause another war, one the Wasteland was not ready for. "Your bullshit is not welcome here. We are not the Enclave. We are not emotionless bastards with no regard for human life."
"Human life? You call that trash human?" Casin said. His hand spread wide as his mouth opened again. "That is not humanity, it's a tragedy. An accident. And you've welcomed them here. Non-humans. Ghouls. That damn super mutant. Even that freak Wanderer..."
"You've used him before, and you had no problem with it. He is an asset-"
"He is a goddamn accident waiting to happen. He's mutated more times than we can count, and he's killed fifty of my men!"
"Your men were attacking a water caravan just because he had scavenged a robot under your noses."
"That technology could have had unknown secrets. He was jeopardizing science!" he said, throwing his arms up in frustration. "He was jeopardizing mankind's progress!"
"And you were jeopardizing a goddamn settlement. Arefu needed that water! Because of you, a dozen children died from the plague from the delay. How does that make you feel, Casdin? How does it feel to be a baby-killer? Is it worth your science? Is it?"
Casdin shook his head. "It was a tragedy, but an acceptable loss," he maintained. "The ends outweigh the means."
"Acceptable losses?" Lyons ripped off her gauntlet and flung it at him. "You're a monster, you know that? When will you figure it out? There is no such thing as acceptable losses. Just excuses for sadistic bastards like you."
He caught the gauntlet with ease, though his eyes flared dangerously for a moment. "You shut up, Lyons. You shut up now. You do not understand what I've done, what sacrifices I've made, what kind of burden I've had to carry. I'm asking you, as a former comrade-in-arms, to reconsider. There is something in Megaton. Something big. And if we just sweep it away, we could use it. We could rebuild."
"Rebuild. Sweep away. You're speaking of genocide. Of cold-blooded murder. You really going to do that, Casdin? We won't. And if you so much as spit in Megaton, I will kill you and your goddamn Outcasts. This is not going to happen. End of story."
"You little bitch, we had-"
The door swung open. "I'm here."
All eyes turned to him. Smith stopped in his tracks and looked around. "Am I- interrupting something?" he said, suddenly feeling like a deer trapped in a deathclaw's eyes. He fidgeted, his leg screaming at him to sit, but his better sense told him to run the hell away. "I should leave, shouldn't I?"
Lyons shook her head slowly. "No. We're done here." She raised her arm level and pointed at the door. "It was good seeing you, Casdin," she spat. "Don't let the door smack you on your way out."
"This isn't over. We will find whatever is hiding there." Casdin and his troops turned and began to leave until he had a look at Smith. He paused. He took a step closer to him. He looked at him closely. "I know you."
"Do you, now?" Smith said with a nervous smile. "Maybe I was in your dreams or something. I get that a lot. Should I look for your bastard son then?"
"No. I've seen you somewhere before." He scrutinized his appearance for a moment, looking at his eyes, his suit, and his legs. "But where?" Then he saw the scars on his hands. "You-"
Slam! Casdin shoved him against the wall. Smith's bones groaned as his power armor-induced strength strained his body. He growled, "What the hell?" He turned to Lyons. "Is this the trash you associate with, Lyons? This-" He smacked Smith's jaw with a resounding crack. "Freak. This monster."
Blood began to drip from Smith's mouth, tracing a line down his chin. He struggled out of his grip but couldn't move. The power armor gave him more strength than Smith could ever hope to muster. His body was slowly going numb, and his face turned blue. "No-" he managed to say in a strangled voice. "Don't-"
"Put him down, Casdin!" Lyons shouted. She made a move towards them, but the Outcasts raised their rifles in warning. "He's one of our allies!"
"Ally?" Casdin said. "This bastard is yours?" He let his finger on his chin drift slowly down. "He killed my men. Tore them into little itty-bitty pieces." His head turned to Lyons as his mouth spread in a mocking smile. "And now-" He pulled his fist back and let it hit his face one last time. "I'm going to kill him."
"Drop him."
Casdin turned. "Who said that?"
"I did."
The Wanderer entered the room, still in his shining white power armor, and placed one hand on Casdin's shoulder. "Now, let him go," he said, letting his anger leak into his voice. "Now."
All eyes were on them. Few had seen the Wanderer in person before, and he struck an imposing figure. The Outcasts looked amongst each other, unsure of what to do.
But Casdin was not afraid. He had faced better foes in his lifetime; nothing would stop him, not even that freak.
"I'm going to teach him a lesson. I'm going to rip his little beating heart out and eat it like the animal he is. Or maybe I'll just have drawn and quartered. Or hell, why don't I take a page out of his book and tear him into little pieces." Casdin squeezed, causing a crunch to fill the room. Smith cried out, his arm hanging now uselessly. "So many options. I'll just experiment then." With that, he twisted the broken arm again, the bone tearing through the skin.
The Wanderer tightened his grip on his shoulder. "I won't ask again. Let him go before I hurt you," he said.
Casdin smirked. His own power armor protected him from any pain the Wanderer attempted to inflict. He was in control. Not this pretentious bastard. Licking his lips, he spoke his next words with loving hatred.
"Go to hell."
Then it all fell apart. The Wanderer pushed him down suddenly to the floor, his armor letting loose a high-pitched scream from the effort. Casdin fell to his knees. His armor bent with ease, resembling a torn tin can. Smith fell as well into a pile, unable to summon any strength.
101 slammed his knee into Casdin's face. Casdin was knocked backwards, blood spurting out his nose and mouth. When his troops stepped forward to help, 101 turned his attention to them. He grabbed the closest and threw him over his shoulder in one graceful motion. Another aimed his rifle, but much too slow. He tore it out of his hands effortlessly and elbowed his jaw, knocking him out cold. He swung the rifle in a clean sweep, taking down yet another fool who stood too close to the massacre.
Charging forward, the remaining two pulled out Rippers, chainblades of death and pain and brutality. But the Wanderer didn't even flinch. He let them come closer, waiting until one swung, then side stepped him, grabbing his arm as he spun, then pulling straight down. As one fell, the last let his blade fall in a deadly arc. The Wanderer rolled away and behind him and then kicked him right between the legs. With one final groan, he fell, clutching his crotch.
Five knocked unconscious. Completely unarmed. The room blinked with disbelief in their eyes, looking back and forth from the bodies to the man standing above them.
He pulled off his helmet and spat upon their bodies. "You do not mess with my student," said the Wanderer.
Smith tried to laugh but instead gurgled blood. "I'm not your student." He moaned as he rolled to his side, putting his bad arm on the top but letting his bad leg support him. "Ouch."
"Like hell." The Wanderer grabbed him and pulled him up, supporting him on his shoulder. "I'm taking you to the infirmary."
"No!" Smith said, then winced as the pain hit. "No," he said, softer this time. "Just give me some Med-X."
"You're hurt, idiot. You need medical attention," the Wanderer said. His frustration was evident in his voice. "You're hurt, goddamn it."
"You're probably right. I'll get some help later. But right now," he said, struggling towards a chair, "I got a debriefing to sit through." He turned toward the unconscious Outcasts. "Well, after they're gone at least." Smith smiled, letting his bloodstained teeth show.
A few knights stood up and began dragging the bodies away. The Wanderer stared at Smith but finally nodded reluctantly. He pulled out some Med-X as well as a stimpack from his armor. "You're taking this too, unless you want to puking blood all over to the table," he said, attending to his wounds.
"A good idea. Wouldn't want to ruin the table. All lovely it is, teak and such," he said, smile still pressed on his face. "Ouch!" He turned to the Wanderer. "Here's an idea. Shoot me up with morphine before you start poking needles through me."
"Shut up."
Smith laughed, wiping the blood away from his face. "Ah, shit." He looked at his dirty sleeve for a second. "Now there's more blood on this thing." He scratched his head with his good arm. "Anyone know a good tailor?"
They all looked at him with shock and confusion. Understandable. A man laughing on his death bed was a harrowing sight to even the most hardened of soldiers. They looked at his bloody face, his greasy and dusty hair. They saw his hands and the pale white scars that stood out against the tanned skin. They remembered the rumors of the mercenary called Smith and how he used only pistols because rifles would give him too unfair of an advantage. They watched his maniacal laughter. None spoke for a long time. And when one did speak, those words did imprint themselves on every persons' mind.
"You are one annoying shithead, you know?."
Smith looked surprised, as did everyone else in the room. "What?"
"You heard me. Shit. Head."
Some of the older ones were horrified at these words. The younger ones remained silent, though inside they were impressed. Smith was confused. And offended. Or he would be, if he wasn't riding the morphine high.
"Yeah..." he said, drawing out each syllable, "a shithead. You have some serious balls, mungo, coming here after all this time and then causing a mess like that. Think I ought to shove my boot right up your-"
"Oh-kay, you can just shut up now," a female voice said. "Like now. Seriously. Shut up, Robert. You're making us look bad right now. He's bleeding, for God's sakes."
"No, I gotta put this dirty little shit bag in his place. I got five words. Suck- on-my-"
"Robert?" Smith said, comprehension dawning on him and breaking the high in seconds. "No way? MacCready?"
"In the flesh, mungo. Little bastard. I'm gonna beat the crap out of you when you stop bleeding all over the place. Actually waltzing in here and causing a goddamn fight like that, I swear-"
"MacCready," Smith repeated. "My God. That's just- wrong. That's just wrong. What the hell is MacCready doing here? And why does he have power armor?"
The Wanderer glanced up, finishing up with his arm. "That would be because he's part of the Brotherhood."
He froze. "You're joking." He looked back and forth between the members of the table, stoic and serious. "You've got to be joking. MacCready, Brotherhood? That is a mean joke to play on a dying man."
"First of all, you're not dying anymore. Second-" the Wanderer grinned, eyes glinting like a deadly knife finishing its swing, "that's not even the good part."
"The good part? What the hell is the good part?" Smith said, trying to stand up taller. "Someone tell me the good part."
MacCready saluted, a big fat grin plastered on his face. Licking his lips, he said, "Robert J. MacCready, Knight, reporting for duty, mungo bastard."
His mouth opened disbelievingly. "He's not my-"
Lyons spoke up, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Yes, he is." She gestured at MacCready. "Meet your second in command, Smith."
Smith rocked back and forth. Then his eyes rolled over, and he passed out. The Wanderer looked at him for a moment and then slapped him a few times, making sure he was unconscious.
"That went well," Lyons commented. She was worried he would start vomiting all over the place.
"Better than I thought it would," the Wanderer said. He stood up and threw him over his shoulder. "I'm taking him to the infirmary. He's lost too much blood already, the fool."
The room nodded in unison. Smith needed medical attention as soon as possible.
He walked away, carrying the body with him.
After they were sure the two were out of earshot, the room exploded with chatter.
"What the hell are we going to do about the Outcasts?" one shouted. He had experience with them before and found it a harrowing experience.
"Should we send a small guard to Megaton?" a younger initiate asked. She was only allowed in the room due to her lineage, which stretched longer than any could remember.
Cross suggested, "What if we attack the outposts? That could delay them indefinitely."
"No! We should cut our losses and just let it go. We have more important tasks in front of us," one of the older paladins said. He was one of the original dispatch and came very close to leaving when the schism occurred. "We're just looking for technology, not this moral bullshit."
"Are you out of your mind? Then we'd be no better than the Outcasts. We will not become the very enemy we've been fighting against for the last few decades!" Dusk shouted. She was completely loyal to Lyons. And with good reason. After all these years serving together, she was confident in her leader's ability to make decisions.
"But just think about it. What if we move the citizens from the town? Then we could let the Outcasts in and no one gets hurt!" a pragmatist said. He was a scribe and was interested in whatever technology the Outcasts had discovered.
"That's not a bad compromise. No war, no fighting."
"We can't force them to abandon their homes. And do you realize how many people live in Megaton? We do not have enough troops for a mission that large," one of the more practical members said. She had dealt with forming these squads for this sort of mission and knew better than anyone how difficult it would be. "Unless you're proposing we divert all of our soldiers there, we have to find another way."
A knight said, "Where would we even put them? There's nowhere to support a population that big." He was an active dispatch, often guiding water caravans to settlements. "Hell, I don't even know how Megaton fits them all."
"What about the Citadel?"
"What? No! We're already stretched thin as it is. I don't even think Rivet City has room for that many."
"Then what the hell do we do?"
"We should-"
"But then-"
"Maybe we could-"
"SHUT UP!"
The room fell silent as Lyons stood tall, her presence commanding the attention of all. She locked eyes with each member in the room one by one. "Whatever we do, it will not be done through mindless arguing." Grudgingly, each lowered their eyes. "We have to figure this out together. Is that understood?" They nodded. "Good. Meeting adjourned."
They left slowly, their bodies blocking the doorway. Mumbling of dissent would occasionally come into hearing, but Lyons didn't care. She had feelings of dissent as well.
She sat down and slumped in her chair. She muttered to herself, "Dad would've been better at this."
Only one heard her. Cross, and she wouldn't dare speak of it in a room filled with this much tension. Her insecurity would be a topic for later days and later lectures.
Hell's bells, and the day wasn't done yet. She still had to propose the new expedition south. They knew a squad was being formed, but most thought it might be a combat mission against the Outcasts, not a trek across more than 700 miles. They wouldn't respond well to that.
She tried to clear her head by rubbing her temples but failed.
She just wasn't cut out for this anymore. She was better suited for battle and showdowns, in the heart of hellfire and bullets. Not leading. Not decision making. She hated every moment of this crap. How would she continue this?
But not for much longer, she thought, a bitter smile spreading across her face. Because I've only got one more year, don't I? And I'm leaving one hell of a mess as a legacy.
She threw her head back and screamed. And it felt good.
Wilson woke up, the sting of alcohol attacking her nose. She winced as she stood up. God, she had one hell of a headache. That bastard had hit her. And it hurt like a goddamn deathclaw had drilled right into her brain.
A nurse passed her by. Wilson grabbed her by the collar and brought her close. "Where is he?"
The nurse fidgeted nervously, which to Wilson, appeared guilty of conspiracy. "I don't know who you're talking about, miss."
"Don't give me that crap. Where's that bastard who put me here? Come on, tell me!" she said, lips drawn back in a snarl. "I'm going to-"
"Do nothing."
"What?" she said, turning to the source of the voice. The figure was obscured by a white curtain. "Who said that?"
"Dear God, why is it that no one can see me? Am I a ghost?" The Wanderer stepped from behind the curtain and shook his head with annoyance. "I swear, if one more person says that..."
"Sir!" Wilson shouted, drawing her hand back in a salute, smacking her head hard enough to make the headache worse. "Initiate May Wilson, reporting for duty-"
"Shut up and skip the damn protocol." 101 sat down on the side of the bed near the curtain and pulled a bottle from behind the bed. Noticing her expression, he chuckled. "I know where the nurses keep their best booze." He opened it and offered it to her. "Want some?"
She shook her head. "I-don't drink, sir." The last she had alcohol, she woke up bare-naked outside the Citadel's walls, right next to a brahmin getting too intimate with her. Ever since then, alcohol and her had an estranged relationship.
"Neither did Smith. Well, until he had his first sip." He pulled out a small glass and poured some into it.
"Where the hell is he? Uh, sir." Wilson wrung her hands nervously, unsure of how to act around the legendary soldier. She had heard of his blatant disregard of protocol and tradition, but seeing it in person was a jarring experience. She thought he would be a chivalrous knight, not this. "I need to find him."
"If I tell, are you going to kill him?" 101 asked, raising an eyebrow. He took a sip and turned the glass over on the table nearby. Amber drops fell slowly onto it.
"Well, yeah, sir. He assaulted me in the courtyard and knocked me unconscious. It's within my rights to kill him, sir," Wilson said. She watched the amber drops cling to the glass and wondered who was going to clean that up.
"Is it now?" He turned his glass back up and poured some more into it. "It's generally a bad idea to insult a student in front of his teacher, Miss Wilson."
"Student?" she said, a look of surprise appearing on her face. That annoying bastard was the Lone Wanderer's student? "I- well I- that's-"
The Wanderer laughed and finished his glass. "He's in the bed right next to yours." He picked up the bottle and the glass. He stood up and walked a few steps before turning. "Try not to hurt him too badly, 'kay?" He left.
Wilson didn't move for a few moments. She wasn't sure what just happened, but she just got permission to beat up Smith, which was good enough for her. She stood up, moving her hands forward as the blood rushed away from her head. Wilson threw back the curtain and prepared to attack, mouth opening as she began to scream a rebel yell-
Then she stopped. "Holy crap."
Smith's face was a bloody mess of bruises, a scar running from his right eye down to the opposite jawline, a large purple splotch setting itself on his right cheek. His left arm was in a cast, some of the blood and fluids leaking through and falling on the bed. His leg was suspended a few inches above the bed, crippled and now useless. She did that, she thought guiltily. He's a goddamn mess.
Smith opened his eyes. "Well now, if you wanted to wake me up, all you have to do is kiss me," he said, bringing his face uncomfortably close.
With a quick yelp, she stumbled back. "I thought-"
"I was dead?" he said, winking at her. "Do I really look that bad?" He put his hand on his face, trying to feel his injuries. "I feel better than I look. Well, I think I do." He looked at her. "You have a mirror? Nah, I think I'll just look at my reflection in your eyes," he said. "And what beautiful eyes there are."
She shook her head, shaking off the bad attempts at humor. "What happened to you?"
"I fell."
"You fell," she repeated. "Your arm's broken, and you have a million scars on your face. And you're telling me you fell."
He grinned. "I fell really, really hard. Right after Casdin broke my arm, anyway. And my face." He tried sitting up but failed. "It doesn't look like I'll be leading a squad anytime soon."
She touched his face and felt his wounds. "That's going to leave a scar," she said softly.
"Maybe it will make me look more scary," he said. "Then people won't call me useless idiots."
She felt guilty. "I didn't-"
"Yeah, you did. You even shot me after I saved your life."
They were silent. No one knew what to say. Finally, she spoke up.
"That thing you did, with the super mutant. Was that from him? The Wanderer, I mean."
"The rolling?" She nodded. "Yeah. He used to tell me staying still was the stupidest thing you could do in a fight. He would shoot me with his little BB gun. If I didn't move fast enough, I'd get nailed right in the head." He shook his head. "That bastard."
"So why don't you join the Brotherhood? You've learned from the best. You could be a Knight Captain by now. You could-"
He raised his finger. "Let's not go there, alright? We should sit here in silence and look in each other's eyes, speaking of our love in silence."
She laughed but then tried to stifle it with her hand. He smiled and laid back in his bed. He continued, "Hey, can you reach behind the bed? There should be some alcohol there."
Surprised by his request, she complied, pulling out a bottle and handing it to him. "The Wanderer did the same thing."
"Did he? Well, he always did know where the best booze was." He turned to her again. "Reach into my backpack, will you? There's a glass there, right next to the caps."
She pulled out the glass, unwrapping the cloth surrounding it, noting the many compartments inside. She noticed a .44 Magnum inside and wondered why he never used it against the super mutant. "Here," she said, handing it over.
"Fantastic," he said, prying the bottle open with his mouth and pouring it with his one good hand. He sipped it slowly. "Ah, a scotch. Just need a molerat sandwich, and it would all be perfect."
"Should you really be drinking right now?" she said. "I mean, you're in the infirmary and bleeding everywhere-"
"Am I? Huh. I thought I just peed myself again." He finished the glass and turned it over on his bed. "That's a relief. The nurses won't laugh at me next time they change the sheets."
"No, that's not- the alcohol. Won't it-"
He raised his finger. "Calm down. It's one glass, and it's just a little one too. It won't kill me." He handed her back the bottle. "Just let me have that little vice, okay?"
She sighed and put it back behind the headboard. "Why aren't you with him anymore?"
"That would be because I don't swing that way."
"Lay off the jokes."
"I can't help it. I'm just that charming of a gentleman."
She made a face that suggested how charming she found him, which is to say, not at all. He drank copious amounts of alcohol and made lascivious jokes. She had met better raiders.
"Fine, fine. I'll say it." Smith scratched his nose absent-mindedly. "He-uh- he killed my parents." He turned and smiled. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Wilson's mouth fell open. "What?"
"You heard me. He killed my parents. And he's probably going to kill more of my family." He knocked over the glass while shifting his weight. "Ah, damn. The nurses are going to kill me."
"That's horrible," she said. She unconsciously leaned forward. "He really did that?"
Smith looked at her and smirked. "Now now, Wilson. Come any closer, and I'll think you actually care."
She retreated back, but not before Smith caught her blush. He chuckled. Even bedridden, he still had it.
"I'm over it. Really, I am. They deserved it. They deserved to die," he repeated. "They did some terrible things in the name of survival. They-" he paused here, "killed some people."
She nodded. "I know what you mean."
"Do you now?"
"Yeah," she said, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I've seen a lot of people kill just to survive. It's not as bad as you think. Sometimes you do what you need to do to survive."
Smith smiled. Oh, she had no idea what she was saying, did she? But that was to be expected. She was Brotherhood, born and bred, through and through. "He still killed them."
"Then why-"
"Why? Why do I hate the man who killed my parents? What kind of question is that?" he said, harsher than he intended.
"No- why did the man who killed your parents take you in as his student?"
Smith stared at the blank wall. Why? That was a variation of a question he had asked himself for a long. Why did he keep him alive? Answering both questions, he said, "I don't know."
They were quiet again. Wilson watched him scratch his cast. She didn't stop him.
"Why did he kill them?" she finally asked.
He glanced at her briefly then returned to scratching his arm. "That, my dear," he said with a grin, "is my little secret."
Wilson kept an eye on him for a few minutes. Then she heard the snoring. Wilson left. She had business to take care of.
Smith opened his eyes again. She was gone. He watched the wall again. He could hear the shouting outside his door. He tried to fall asleep but couldn't.
Hell's bells, all the world's a-ringing, and there wasn't a soul to shut it up.
So how'd I do? Yet another action scene, and this time Smith ate shit. And Wilson made another appearance. I intended to not use ever again in the story, but she made an alright OC. And MacCready. Good ol' MacCready. In the game, he has some of the best lines, and I want to do the same thing here. He makes such an awesome jerk.
Again, please review, or subscribe, or just send me a message. Feel free to criticize me, but make it specific. Who has the best lines so far?
