Chapter Ten: The Minutemen
A/N: In response to a reviewer of this story, Cookie is Gob from Fallout 3. Good eye!
Twoey, Cookie and Boomer walked the cracked pavement towards their target, a small farm located under a section of a severely damage overpass. The trio caught sight of the farm, a small wooden shack with a field of Mutfruit trees off to the right. The two heads of a Brahmin were munching lazily on food put in an old bathtub. The approaching mercs caused the right head to moo in recognition. Two farmers, an older woman and a young man about the age of 20, rose from their kneeled position in the dirt and watched the group approach.
Boomer smiled and nodded a hello, walking towards them to start a conversations before another farmer, this time an older man in a green heavy coat, yellow rubber hat, and a big bushy beard rushed towards them, shotgun in hand. "Hey! Stop right theya!" He said in a heavy Bostonian accent. The mercs stopped and Twoey instinctively reached for his rifle before the man got close enough. Upon looking over the approaching men, he sighed in relief. "Oh. Sorry. I thought you were some of those Forged lunatics." The old farmer said, relaxing his gun. "You lot don't have the burns. What are ya doin' heya?"
Twoey released the butt of his rifle, leaving it in its holder on his back. "We heard you were asking for some help with a group of raiders."
The old man looked surprised. "Oh. That. You with the Minutemen? Because one of your boys is already headin' down to deal with 'em."
Cookie looked surprised. "The Minutemen? Huh. Well, we aren't with them. We heard from a trader that you needed a hand, so we thought we would check it out."
"Real kind of ya an' all." The farmer smiled and reached his hand out to shake Twoey's, which the big mercenary accepted. "Abraham Finch. Nice to meet ya." He sighed heavily. "Listen, I told that Minuteman guy about the raiders down at the old Ironworks factory, just down the road. But those guys ah no joke, and I would feel terrible if he died on behalfa' me askin'. So I'll tell ya all the same deal. My son, Jake, took my grandad's sword and ran off to join their little gang. That sword is the closest thing I got to an heirloom, so I want it back. If you can get it, I'll pay ya a reward. And if that Minuteman is still alive, bring him back too, alright?"
The trio listened to the proposal. Boomer looked at his friends with a smile. "I think that's fair. We can do that." He then turned his head back to Abraham. "But what about your son? Don't you want us to bring him back too?"
At the mention of his son, Abraham's kind face turned into a scowl. "That boy is dead to me. I didn't raise my boys to be raidas. You bring back that sword, I don't care what happens to him."
Twoey looked a bit upset, thinking that a father should try and help his son regardless if he is a raider, but he nodded in agreement to help Mr. Finch. "Alright. We will be back with the sword." With that, the big merc lead the others down the road, the eyes of Abraham's wife and son, the other two farmers in the fields, following them as they left.
Approaching the Ironworks, the three friends heard gunshots and the sound of a flame thrower tossing plumes of fire at anyone unlucky enough to have it pointed at them. Figuring it must be the Minuteman that Mr. Finch told them about, the group raced to assist.
From the other side of a rusted and half destroyed fence, they saw a man in a tan duster behind a transport truck parked outside of a concrete and steel factory, taking cover as three raiders in leather armor and long jackets made their way towards him, flamethrower and pistols in hand. Twoey shot at the raider with the flamethrower from their spot on the other side of the fence. Cookie and Boomer ran through a hole in the chain-link to help the pinned man.
Cookie charged straight at the nearest raider, who wielded a 10mm pistol. The target was distracted by the bullet that put down his friend holding the flamethrower. As the enemy reached for the oversized weapon, the ghoul shot a round from his shotgun into him, causing him to drop like a sack of potatoes.
Meanwhile, Boomer ran next to the man in the duster and grinned. "Here to help." He said quickly to the other, who was stunned by their arrival. Peering around the side of the truck they used for cover, Boomer raised his pistol and shot three bullets at the last remaining raider, two hitting her shoulder, and one ripping through her neck. She fell to her knees, holding the wound before hitting the pavement face first.
With the action now calmed down, Boomer turned back to speak to their rescuee. "Hi there. Come here often?" He joked with a chuckle.
The Minuteman looked shocked at the casual merc with the rocket launcher on his back. "What… I mean… who the hell are you guys?" He asked, confused. Now that they were closer, the trio noticed that the man was tall with dark skin. He wore a dark brown hat on his head and his duster covered a dark blue vest and brown pants. Twoey and Cookie joined their friend behind the truck as Boomer held out his hand to the newcomer. "Names Boomer. That's Twoey and Cookie." He said, pointing to each in turn.
"Preston Garvey. Commonwealth Minutemen. And I am glad as hell to meet you three." Preston said with a big smile.
"What were you thinkin', charging into here like that? One guy against all of these raiders? Bad idea." Cookie almost scolded Garvey, shaking his head.
"Not like I had much of a choice. I'm the only Minuteman left, so when somebody asks for our help, it's not like I can wait for someone else to come along." He said with sadness in his voice.
Boomer sighed. "Well, then I guess we get to honorary Minutemen for today, huh? Finch told us about the sword. I say we get it back a split the reward four ways, alright?"
Preston smiled. "If you guys help me get this straightened out, you three can keep the reward. I'm just happy to have some back up on this one."
"Then it's settled. Let's take care of these assholes." Cookie added and the three walked around the truck and approached the factory. The outside was a dull gray color and had burns around the roof, leading from the large smoke stacks jutting from the top. The dull glow of a forge was clearly burning from inside the building, indicating that the gang had put the factory back into production for unknown reasons.
Once through the main doors at the front of the factory, the four men were hit with the smell of melting metal and burning flesh, making them gag and pause. "Jesus! What the hell do they do down here?!" Boomer asked in a hushed voice.
"Do you really want to know?" Twoey replied and readied his rifle. Something told him that he was going to hate this Forged group more than he usually did with raiders.
"Good point." The explosives expert said and followed their leader further through the entrance way, which opened up to the rest of the factory. On the factory floor, the group saw equipment for smelting metal and ore, which included large stone kettles with molten hot material in them. They were lifted and moved using large fork lifts, which were scatter about the floor. A few raiders patrolled among the machinery, and along the steel walkways that hung round the parameter of the room. Ramps connected the walkways to more above, leading up almost to the ceiling.
Cookie pointed to a grouping of raiders off to the left, three in total. Boomer smiled. "Allow me to start things off right." He said and brought out his rocket launcher. Taking aim, Cookie grabbed Preston's arm and moved him away from the back end of the launcher. With a press of the trigger, the rocket hit its target and blasted the raiders to bits. The others in the room took notice and the mercs and Minuteman sprang into action.
Preston and Cookie charged onto the factory floor, clearing out the raiders among the machinery and equipment. Twoey lead the way up to the first level of the walkways, Boomer close behind, putting his rocket launcher away and bringing out his pistol. He looked up just in time to see a Molotov Cocktail flying towards his rifle toting friend and shot the bottle out of the air, making it explode, almost harmlessly, above their heads. He and Twoey took cover behind some steel crates as Boomer threw a frag grenade, blasting a few more raiders who were charging towards them. Twoey cleaned up any raiders that were left groaning on the ground with a bullet.
Once at the end of the walkway, the group of four met up, Cookie and Preston taking one of the ramps up to meet them. "Everyone alright?" Preston asked.
"So far so good." Boomer replied and the four made their way up the next ramp to the upper level.
Mopping up a few more raiders and turrets along the way, the group pressed on to an adjoining room, eventually making it to a set of blue, steel doors. Voices could be heard beyond the doors and a strong smell of burning bodies was coming from the spaces surrounding them.
"Shall we?" Twoey asked the group with a slight smile. The rest nodded and Twoey opened the door quickly. The four rushed into the room, their guns raised. Upon entering, they were confronted with a large forge full of melted metal and, god knows what else, directly in front of them. A raider in power armor stood on a platform 20 feet above the cauldron, with raiders lining the metal ramps on either side. A man in farmers clothes was kneeling before the steel plated raider, his hands bound behind his back. On the same level that the mercenaries stood on was another prisoner in similar garb. He was kneeling in front of a young man, around eighteen years old, who was also in basic clothing, setting him apart from the leather and steel clad raiders in the room.
Twoey raised his rifle to the obvious leader on the platform, but didn't fire, worried for the two hostages that were placed dangerously close to the forge. The others pointed their guns at the raiders on the ramps, the situation extremely tense.
"Hold assholes! No one fire a god damn shot. If our new friends here move, kill 'em." The leader said. With that, he swung a sword with blue flames emanating from the blade at the man kneeling in front of him, sending him flying, mortally wounded, into the cauldron below.
"Son of a bitch!" Cookie shouted and was about to charge, when Boomer stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
"You four must be strong to make it all the way in here." The big boss said with a smirk.
"If that was supposed to be a challenge, I'm guessing you are going to be a piece of cake to get rid of." Boomer shot back with a hot glare.
The Power Armor clad raider laughed. "I like you. Names' Slag, by the way. Ya see, Jake? Now here are some men that might be worth my time."
The young man in front of the mercs shook his head, looking up at the boss. "You said we would be raiding outside the Commonwealth. These people aren't even a threat to us. I passed the trials, I gave you my family's sword."
Slag shook his head. "You think because you stole something from your pop that it makes you one of us? Though, I gotta admit, this lovely sword does make me more inclined to give you another shot. So here's the deal. You kill that prisoner and drop him into the forge. Prove to me that you can kill! It's him or you."
At the mention of being killed, the farmer kneeling in front of Jake looked at the young man, pleadingly. "Please… I just want to go home. Let me go." He said, terrified at what this punk kid was going to do.
Jake started to shake and mumble to himself. "What do I do….?"
Boomer was shocked. "What do you do?! You stop thinking about killing an innocent person!" He said loudly through gritted teeth.
Preston stepped forward. "Just walk away, Jake. Go home. Go back to your family."
"I can't go back. My father would throw me out for what I have done." Jake said, looking over his shoulder at the group. "I don't wanna die…" He brought out his gun and pointed it at the hostage. He didn't fire, his hands shaking.
"Don't do it, boy." Twoey said, his gun trained on Slag still. "Your father told us about you. Why do you think we're here? We came to bring you home." His face was set in stone and his tone was so even, it was impossible to see that he was telling a lie.
"What? He…. He sent you to find me?" Jake asked.
"Of course he did! Now, put the gun down." Cookie shouted.
"Alright… I… I'm not going to do this, Slag. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just wanna go home." Jake looked at the raider boss.
"I don't think that's going to happen. Waste 'em!" Slag pointed his sword at the group and the raiders on the ramps pushed their attack.
"Cookie! Get the hostage!" Twoey ordered and rushed to the left ramp, firing at the raider with the flame thrower. Preston rushed to the right, firing his laser musket at the woman who was running down towards Jake with a switchblade in her hand.
The ghoul ran and pushed Jake to the side as the farmer tried to get to his feet amongst the bullets and flames. He lost his balance and started to topple backwards into the forge. Before he felt the searing heat, a ghoulish hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back onto the steel platform. Shielding him with his body, Cookie protected the farmer and sat him in a safe corner. "Wait here." He said in his gruff voice before he ran back into the fray.
Meanwhile, Boomer pulled out his rocket launcher and blasted Slag's Power Armor, bringing the raider boss to his knees. He loaded another round and fired again, sending the raider sprawling to his back, bleeding as metal shards from his armor embedded themselves into his exposed face and neck. Boomer's normal smile was replaced with a look of pure hate as he loaded a third round.
Cookie saw another rocket being loaded and stopped him. "Easy! Twoey and Preston are almost up there. You could catch them in the blast."
Boomer growled and brought out his pistol, rushing to the upper level, past the know dead raider on the right ramp. Coming up on Slag, he pointed his gun at the man's head and unloaded the clip into it, spraying blood and brain matter on the steel around him.
Twoey and Preston met on the upper platform as well, the merc leader approaching Boomer first. "Nicely done… You can put the pistol away now, alright?" He said calmly.
Boomer grunted in anger and put it away. "Where's the stupid brat we came here for?" He asked as Twoey retrieved the weapon from Slag's body.
Cookie grabbed Jake's arm and pulled him roughly to his feet.
"Look, I'm sorry, I panicked!" Jake said, looking at the four men still standing about the room.
"Yeah, well that guy died while you stood by! And you almost killed the other one!" Boomer said. It was very rare that he showed this level of hostility in a situation like this. Seeing a person act so foolishly that it cost an innocent person his life, however, didn't sit well with him.
"I know… I screwed up." Jake sighed, looking at the ground. "I just want to go home, now that I know my dad will let me stay back at the farm. I never thought he would send people to come find me."
"He didn't." Twoey said coldly. "We came for the sword. I lied so that you wouldn't kill that farmer. He didn't deserve to die so you could prove yourself to be a man." The giant merc walked down to the corner where the farmer was still sitting and untied his hands.
"Thank you… I thought I was a goner for sure." The rescued man said, rubbing his wrists. He glared at Jake but didn't say anything.
"You mean… He doesn't want me back at home?" Jake asked, sadly.
"I'm sure he does, kid. Just go talk to him. Either way, we get paid so you're on your own when you deal with your dad." Cookie added. "You want to prove that you're tough? Go face your problems head on. And don't cower away from them by running off and joining a group of raiders."
Jake thought for a minute. "You're right. Well… thanks. I guess I'll see you four at the farm. I'm sure you want your reward for getting the sword." The young man turned to leave, followed by the mercenaries and Minuteman.
"So, we get back to Finch Farm just in time to hear Mrs. Finch putting Abraham and her son Jake in their places. It was clear who wore the pants in that family." Boomer said, laughing. The mercs, Hancock, Kent, Avery and Preston Garvey were sitting at a table in the Maiden Inn as Boomer and Twoey told them the story of how they took out the Forge, with commentary by Preston and Cookie.
"Abraham thanked us for bringing his boy home, even though it wasn't part of the job, and paid us a reward for the sword. We tried to split it with Preston here, but he wouldn't have it." Cookie added.
"I know I wouldn't have made it through that fight by myself, so you deserved the reward." Garvey added with a smile.
"Once we were all done, we asked Preston if he wanted to come rest at the Inn for a while before he headed back to his settlement. Where were you from again?" Boomer asked the Minuteman.
"Sanctuary" Preston replied to the group, then turned his attention to Cap. "Your men told me all about you on the way here. You seem like a good person to have in a fight."
Cap, who had long since taken off the Silver Shroud coat and hat, smiled back at him. "Yeah, well, we work well as a team. Without these guys, I wouldn't have survived out there, let alone make a difference." He motioned to her team, who grinned proudly.
"It's more than that, though." Garvey continued. "They told me how you saved each of them, and how you go out of your way to protect others. There is nothing in it for you, you have your own problems to deal with, and yet you help people anyway. I mean, look at this Inn. People can stay here, free of charge and even get a free meal. I think you can help out the Commonwealth in a much bigger way."
Cap lifted her eyebrows, questioningly. "Oh? How so?"
Preston sighed heavily. "As Boomer said at the beginning of the story, I'm the only Minuteman left. We used to be a force of good. We worked together to protect the settlements outside of Diamond City and Goodneighbor. For generations, we fought and died for that goal. But after General Becker died, the whole thing started to fall apart slowly.
It finally ended in Quincy. I was there, protecting the settlers from Gunners. When they pushed into the settlement, the other Minutemen turned their backs on us and left us to die. I escaped with a few others. We lead the settlers from one disaster to the next until we ended up in a shootout with raiders in Concord. I figured it was the end of the line when a guy in a Vault suit shows up and helps us clear them out."
"Ryan?!" Boomer shouted, excitedly.
"Uh, yeah. You guys know him?" Preston asked.
"Sure do! He's a friend of ours." Boomer added.
"Well, more like we captured him spying on us and decided he was worth keeping alive." Cookie said with a chuckle.
Preston nodded and continued. "Ryan jumped into a suit of Power Armor and took out the raiders, as well as a Deathclaw. He helped us get to Sanctuary and the settlers from Quincy started to set up homes and farms to begin a new life. But we lost all the remaining Minutemen trying to get there."
"I'm sure the Minutemen can be rebuilt." Cap said, reassuringly.
"I think so too. But I can't do it. Not alone. I can lead my men in a battle, but in order to rebuild the Minutemen like it used to be, someone else needs to be the General. Someone who can inspire others and unite the Commonwealth under one flag." Preston, Twoey, Boomer, Cookie, and even Hancock looked at Cap.
Evelyn looked around at the table and sighed. "Look, Preston. I'm flattered and all, but I don't know about all of that. I mean, my men like what we have going for us here and they don't even know who the Minutemen are-"
"Sure we do! Preston told us all about how they help people 'at a minutes notice.' Come on, cap... Think of all the good we can do!" Boomer cut her off with a smile. "The Inn is small time. We can really make a difference out there."
"And what about the Inn? Who's going to keep it running while we're roaming around, saving the Commonwealth?" She asked, looking around the dining room that they all sat in.
"I could watch the place, Shroud." Kent said, smiling. "I've run it for a while a-and I don't think I wanna to stay at the Memory Den anymore. I can live here and run it for you."
"What, by yourself?" Evelyn asked, defensively. She knew that Kent could run the Inn, maybe even better than she could, but she also knew he couldn't hold a gun to protect it. "What happens if someone tries to rob the place? No offense, Kent, but you're not the best fighter."
"I can help run security here." Avery said, leaning back in her chair. "I don't have anything better to do, now that my boss is out of business. Might as well pay you back for not killing me."
"And I'm sure I can have the Neghborhood Watch keep an eye on the place. After all, their new job is looking out for the citizens of our fair town." Hancock chimed in with a charming smile.
Evelyn shot him a look. "Et tu, Hancock?" She said and sighed. She racked her brain for another reason why she couldn't accept the position, but none came to her. She sighed again. "Fine… Let's get started."
Preston smiled, excitedly. "Great! Ready when you are, General."