When William returned to Sunshine Tidings Co-Op, it was early morning. But already, under Mason's careful and efficient direction, the outpost was taking shape. A radio tower had been erected, built using pre-War schematics and salvaged materials; it sent out pre-recorded messages in every direction to intimidate surrounding settlements. And to warn travelers not to trespass. Water purifiers and generators were being put together, beds were being set up, guard posts and turrets were being strategically placed.
It was industrious, but there were frequent delays when supplies ran short or schematics proved indecipherable. Few of them were literate, so those that could read were quickly singled out and made to translate for everyone else. Mason directed Ward to oversee the partitioning of supplies, who delegated the responsibility to an administratively inclined Operator.
Under that framework, the Nuka-World raiders established their first outpost in the Commonwealth.
William was ordered to relieve the Bossman in charge of setting up defenses, and he went to work immediately.
The day wore on. One by one, the necessities were satisfied. Water, power, beds, defenses. Food would have to be brought in from Nuka-World for some time, until they were able to impress nearby farms into paying tribute.
At noon the next day, the Overboss arrived.
She came alone. Sentries spotted her coming shortly before she arrived, so Mason and his lieutenants were waiting for her at the gate.
William and Ward flanked the Alpha, and they were flanked by a selection of their top men. It was a proper greeting party, possessing an air of formality and dignity that made them all stand a little straighter. If any of them had ever seen one, there might have been a bugle.
The Overboss was carrying a backpack, evidently laden with food and ammunition. Her revolver hung at her hip, and a rifle was slung over her shoulder. A smear of blood and dirt ran from her right eyebrow to her chin; it didn't look like hers.
She took in the greeting party with a blank expression. William thought he saw her finger twitch at her side, but he wasn't sure. Mason took a step forward, chin held high and chest puffed out.
"I didn't know you were coming," he said. Her eyes darted towards him, held his gaze. William found himself once more unnerved by the absolute lack of emotion she displayed. Her eyes, her stance, her face; all empty.
"I didn't tell you," she responded after a moment's pause.
"We'll have to build another bed," he said, his tone gravely serious. One of the sentries snickered.
"Then maybe you should get to work," she said. It was a dismissal, and the raiders got the message. The small procession broke up, heading back to their positions and tasks. After a minute, only the Overboss, Mason, and his lieutenants remained at the gate, motionless.
The Overboss gestured to William and Ward.
"Bring them. We need to talk," she said, breaking the standoff and heading towards the central barn. Mason followed after her, and his lieutenants followed after him.
Inside the barn, they'd established a headquarters of sorts. Mason slept in the loft, but a series of desks, workstations, and crates populated the ground level. There were half a dozen raiders at work there, but they shuffled out after a curt word from Mason.
The Overboss dumped her backpack next to a supply crate, and set her rifle gingerly on a desk. Mason took a seat, and his lieutenants took up spots on either side of him.
She looked at them, briefly but carefully, and leaned against a desk opposite Mason. It was a casual pose; it made her look unassuming and careless. It was deceptive.
"The outpost looks good. You're getting it done faster than we thought you would. Faster than you said you would," she said. Mason nodded his head.
"There have been some problems, but I straightened them out. Once we get the first supply shipment from the Terminal, we can finish," he responded.
"What do you need?" She asked. He took a deep breath. Mason was not an administrator, he was not a bureaucrat. Not by nature. But that was the role he had been forced to assume, at least for the moment. William thought he handled it well, extremely well for someone of his background and inclinations, but it wore the Alpha's patience very thin.
"Steel. Copper wiring. Screws and bolts. Adhesive. 5.56 mm rounds. Some circuitry if we can get any; William wants to upgrade our turret design."
"Send someone to the Terminal. Mags will handle it," the Overboss responded.
"William can go," Mason said. The Overboss shook her head.
"No. Send someone else. I have a use for these two," she said. Mason frowned suspiciously. William and Ward struggled against shifting uncomfortably. Being the object of the Overboss's uses was not something one aspired to.
"What have you done to track down the Disciples?" She asked. Mason flinched visibly.
"We've been very busy," he started to say, but she cut him off.
"Nothing gets done until we find her, Mason," she growled with sudden ferocity. "That's what you told me. Nothing gets done until she's mine."
"As soon as the outpost is on its feet…"
"No," she interrupted. "You're going to send these two into Boston. To look around, to see what there is to see, and report back to me."
"I need them," Mason said.
"Tough. I want them gone by tonight," she responded. With that, she straightened, and gestured to the loft.
"Is that where you sleep?" She asked. Mason nodded.
"That's where I'll sleep, then," she said. Mason twitched, but kept himself under control. The Pack understood deference better than most, and its Alpha was no exception.
She grabbed her rifle and started towards the loft.
"You'd better make sure your people finish your bed in time, Mason," she said over her shoulder.
"Wouldn't want you sleeping on the ground."
William and Ward took ten raiders with them.
The trip into Boston was uneventful. They made sure to mark a number of settlements and farms they saw, though.
Once inside the city proper, they headed towards Goodneighbor and the State House.
Ward took point. They moved in file through the streets, keeping close to the buildings and staying as quiet as possible. There were things that dwelt in the city that they would do best not to attract. And so they progressed silently, but slowly.
William brought up the rear. He'd always hated being in the city. Hated the way the buildings cast long shadows on each other, the way the streets were clogged with rubble. The way the winding paths through the ruin seemed to be guiding you down a maze, guiding you deeper and deeper until you weren't sure you'd ever be able to find your way out again. The tumbling sound of stones slipping underfoot were thunderous in the solemn quiet, echoing down the corridors like gunshots. With the omnipresent threat that something was at the other end of that corridor, listening and waiting behind some collapsed structure. Every pocket beneath the ruin held a manifold of shadows. Every dusty diner, glimpsed behind windows made opaque by the centuries, was a den of monsters, watching.
Victor, third from the front, went down. William didn't realize he'd heard the shot until after he'd hit the ground. The raiders scattered, every one diving for a different outcropping of rubble for cover. Something howled, too far away to be what shot Victor, but too close not to be related. It was a guttural moan, a throaty declaration that blood had been shed, and there was more to be found.
Gunfire peppered the shattered section of wall William crawled behind, the slab of concrete too thick for the bullets to penetrate. The fiery hiss of laser fire accompanied the red beams that suddenly showered over them. Someone screamed, a raider. He kept screaming, pain and fear fueling him as he plummeted towards death, until he suddenly stopped. The hail of gunfire and laser fire continued unabated; each second getting closer and closer.
William clutched his rifle. His mind was racing, trying to trace the sounds back to their sources, trying to figure out a where to shoot and where to run. From what he could tell, their assailants were coming from the direction they were headed. That was bad news. But they could go around. He remembered seeing a side passage, an alley left mostly intact that they could go through. They could go around. But they had to get there first. He was near the alley, but he couldn't see anyone else. He was the farthest away from where their attackers were, based on where he'd been in the line and where they were coming from.
He risked peering behind his cover, rifle ready and finger on the trigger. He could see Ward, slid into a narrow alleyway. He could see Victor, minus head, crumpled nearby. He could see the one who'd screamed and died, with a gaping cavity in his chest revealing his pulverized innards. And he could see their attackers.
The corridor ahead was flooded with Super Mutants. The green beasts were everywhere. On the ground, on the rooftops, hanging out of windows. And he couldn't see their end. He'd never heard of so many in one place; there were too many to fight. They had to make a break for it.
Slowly, the raiders regained their wits, and began to shoot back. The Mutants' front line broke, and those on the rooftops went to ground. The shooting abated, turning from a constant barrage to intermediate bursts traded back and forth.
"Ward!" William shouted. The other heard, and dashed towards him, covered by a sustained suppressive fire from his comrades.
Ward slid behind William's wall, firing a couple shots in the Mutants' direction as he did.
"You see that alley?" William asked, pointing. "We need to make a break for it."
"Fuck that!" Ward responded. He broke to empty a magazine against the Mutants before continuing.
"I'm not running from a band of fucking Mutants," he said ferociously. William grimaced.
"We can't win. There are too many," he said. The other spat on the ground between them, reloading his rifle.
"We are not running from Mutants. No fucking way. I don't care how many there are," Ward growled.
"If we don't get out of here, we're going to die," William responded. A chunk of their cover exploded suddenly, pelting them with debris. Ward took aim, and fired a burst towards a Mutant on a roof. He hit, and the thing went down.
He rolled back into cover, and sat contemplatively. He bit his lip until it bled, his face twisted with rage and disgust. But, he quickly seemed to reach a decision.
"Fine. We run," he said. William let out a shaky breath in relief. If Ward resisted, they'd have been trapped there, and they'd die.
"Alright. That alley is clear. We can all fit through it; we follow it down as far as we can, and take a parallel street up. Simple as that," William said.
"We have to get everyone there first," Ward responded. "If we do it one at a time, the last couple won't make it. We won't be able to cover them well enough."
"Right. Who brought grenades?"
"Oh, fuck," Ward answered. Then, William remembered.
"Okay, we'll need everybody to cover us so we can drag his body back here," he said. Ward nodded his head.
"Victor's not that heavy, but I'm stronger. I'll go," he said.
"Fine. If you can, just grab the grenades," William responded. Ward snorted.
"No shit?"
"If you can get over to whoever's nearest, he and I can cover you well enough to grab Victor," William continued. The other nodded, and started to count down with fingers. When he reached the last, William leaped up and started shooting, and Ward dove out of cover.
He got to the next person before William ran out of rounds in his magazine. William reloaded while he presumably imparted the plan.
William peeked around the wall, and made eye contact with Ward. Again, he counted down with his fingers. And again, when he reached the last, William stood and started shooting. He was joined by the other, a Pack named Ted, and they kept the Mutants down while Ward ran to Victor's corpse, grabbed the bag containing their grenades, and dashed back towards William.
Ward made it with a barrage of gunfire following seconds after.
"Got it. Alright. We toss a couple of these, get everybody into the alley, run," Ward said.
"Right," William responded. "Go."
They made it.
William, Ward, and the other eight stumbled through the street, ears still ringing and blood still pumping, unsure of where they were or where they were going.
The Mutant ambush hadn't lasted long. It was less than hour later, but the sun was already hugging the horizon.
When the first sound came drifting to their ears, they all immediately fell against the buildings lining the street, taking cover. But it wasn't gunfire, it wasn't mutant howling. It was laughter.
Carousing.
William stepped back into the street. Slowly, the others followed his lead. They crept towards the source of the noise, cautious and alert.
There were raiders on lookout, but they didn't see the Nuka-World group until they were nearly on top of them.
"Hey!" One of the lookouts cried. "Come out here where we can see you. That's better. There are only ten of you? Good. You look like raiders, too."
"What is this place," William asked.
"This is the Combat Zone. And if you want to go inside, you need to pay the fee."
"We aren't-"
"How much?" Ward interrupted.
"Twenty-five caps a head. And that's just to get past the door. Anything inside costs more."
William pulled Ward aside.
"We aren't going in," he said.
"Why the fuck not? We're all exhausted."
"It'd be asking for trouble. And we can't afford to spend two-hundred and fifty caps."
"I'm sure if you asked very nicely, your sister would forgive you."
Ward approached the lookout.
"Who do we give the money to?"
"Me."
"Fuck you. Who's in charge?"
"Tommy runs the joint. He's inside. Give the money to him."
"Fine."
Reluctantly, William and the others followed Ward into the Combat Zone.
Smoke, hanging thick in the air, obscured what lay beyond the entry. Arrhythmic noises drifted through the smog, the sounds of drinking and fighting and carousing. Neon lights flickered above the door, and further inside cast long, banded colors in the haze like a kaleidoscope. Pulsing sounds, pulsing lights.
As Ward ventured deeper, William pulled everyone else aside.
"I want everybody ready. If anything happens, anything, I don't to be caught off guard. If one of these thugs starts something, put 'em down. If things get out of control, burn the place to the ground. Understood?"
All eight chimed agreement.
"Fine," he said. "We aren't staying long."
They followed after Ward.
The centerpiece of the Combat Zone was an arena. Chairs, tables, and bars all sprang up around it, oriented so everyone could see what was happening inside.
At the moment, two people were throwing fisticuffs. A man, large and bulky, against a woman, a small redhead. And the woman seemed to be winning.
He threw a jab at her head; she dodged, grabbed his arm and twisted it around his back. He collapsed to his knees, and she used his arm as leverage to slam her foot into the back of his head until something snapped.
William took a seat at an empty bar. A ghoul was tending it, another raider like the patrons.
"How much for a drink?" William asked him. The ghoul snorted, moist and fleshy.
"A thousand caps a shot. Fuck off," he responded. William twitched, but said nothing.
The redhead woman was bashing the man's skull to paste with her heel. She was screaming, a mix of cursing and animal howling. A pair of men, a ghoul dressed in a worn suit and a fierce looking raider, entered the arena, and dragged her kicking and screaming out of it.
The audience surged with glee.
"Who runs this joint?" William asked the ghoul.
"Do I look like a brochure? Go fuck yourself, pretty boy," he answered, using a filthy rag to dry battered glasses.
"If you don't serve drinks, do you just sit around washing cups for kicks?"
The ghoul put down the glass, and leaned over the bar to glare in William's face. One of his eyes had atrophied into mush, leaking slowly out of the socket.
"Did you not get the message the first time, asshole? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to have anything to do with you. And I'm not going to serve you any fucking drinks," he rasped angrily. William's grip tightened around his pistol.
"Get your fuckin' hands off me," a woman shouted with a thick accent. William spun around, eyes darting back and forth to find her.
It was the girl from the arena. She had put a man on the ground with a punch to the gut, and was dragging him to his feet for another.
And that man, of course, was Ward.
William cursed.
The woman swung at him again, but he caught her wrist.
"Cunt!" He barked, and slapped her with enough force to send her sprawling. She leaped up with both fists flying; he kicked her full in the stomach, knocking her to the ground.
The ghoul in the suit was headed that way with surprising agility, but William got there first.
"Ward!" He hissed, grabbing the other man's arm and pulling him back.
"What the fuck are you doing?" William demanded. Ward sneered at him, yanking his arm free of the other's grasp. The woman seized the moment, and slammed into Ward head-first, sending them both sprawling into a pair of tables.
A commotion was forming around them, the local raiders circling around jeering and shouting. William noted with apprehension that his own raiders were silently forming another, larger circle around theirs.
"Ward, get up," he said. The ghoul in the suit pushed his way past the crowd, and grabbed at his fighter. He succeeded in pulling her away from Ward, who staggered to his feet unsteadily. Both were bloody, but he looked much worse than her.
"Who are you people?" The ghoul growled, restraining the woman as she surged towards Ward.
"That bitch attacked me," Ward answered, wiping blood from his lip.
"Fucker!" The woman responded. William took a step forward, holding his hands up nonthreateningly.
"Listen, we aren't looking to cause-" He started to say.
Ward pulled his gun and pointed it at the woman.
The entire room burst into action. Local raiders scrambled to draw their weapons, only to finally notice the ring of Nuka-World raiders that had formed around them, rifles drawn and ready.
They settled into a standoff.
"Everybody put your guns down," the suited ghoul shouted. "This is my establishment, and I said put your guns down!"
"Let's all relax," William said. "Let's all just relax."
"Fuck that," Ward responded. Somebody pulled a trigger.
When the last body fell, all ten Nuka-World raiders were still standing. A ghoul was laying on the ground, the contents of his gut laying on the floor next to him. William put a bullet in his face.
"Talk to me," he yelled. One by one, his people responded. Fine, alright, took a hit but still standing. All except Ward.
"Where's Ward?"
"He took that girl into the other room," someone answered. William clenched his jaw, and marched in the direction they pointed.
Ward was pounding his fist into her jaw, straddling her on the ground. She beat on his sides as best she could, but every strike was weaker than the last, until they stopped coming at all. Her face was a bloody froth, fragments of bone shredding the soft skin into pulp. But she was still breathing.
He ripped at her clothes, growling fiercely as he did.
William burst into the room, and kicked him off her. Ward's pants were already around his knees, his erection bare and twitching.
"What the fuck was that?" William snapped. "How fucking stupid do you have to be?"
He pulled the other to his feet, and threw him against the wall. Ward groaned as he collapsed to the floor.
William kept on, kicking him again and again and again.
Ward vomited blood. William stumbled back, breathing heavily.
"You fucking idiot. Get up," he said. Ward just lay there, blood seeping from his mouth. "Get up."
"Boss, I don't think he's getting up," somebody said at the door. William spun around to face them, flaring.
And the man flinched. William stared at him, grinding his teeth together until he could feel the pain in his temples.
"Who has the stimpaks?"
"I think Mick does," the man responded.
"Get him. Make sure Ward doesn't die," William ordered. The man leaped to obey.
The girl was still there, writhing on the ground pitifully.
William knelt beside her, pistol in his hand.
"What's your name?"
Her mouth was barely able to move, the entire lower jaw pulverized.
But a faint whisper breathed past her lips. "F-fuck…"
William pressed his pistol to her forehead, and pulled the trigger.
They got to the State House, and found it empty. The decaying corpses of Super Mutants littered the building, adding to the already fetid stench of death.
And, on the top floor, in the farthest room, buried in the rotting body of a Mutant, was a Disciple's knife.
When the ten returned to Sunshine Tidings, they found Mason had finished the last touches, and the outpost was complete. A new building had been built, a store house, and the central barn had been converted fully into an executive suite. Turrets adorned the walls, which wrapped entirely around the outpost and were solidly braced.
And, most importantly, there were more people. The last shipment of supplies had been brought by the next wave, the group Mason would lead to found the next outpost. Those that had taken Sunshine Tidings would remain there, and get to work on the neighboring settlements.
William brought the knife straight to Mason and the Overboss.
The Overboss took it, holding it gently as if it were some precious jewel.
"So they were there," Mason said. William nodded.
"All the Mutants were dead. We found no other sign of them, though. They must have cleared it out and moved on," he said.
Mason frowned.
"That doesn't tell us much, then."
"It tells us enough," the Overboss said. "We know they were in the area. That's more than we knew before."
"And it means someone in Goodneighbor might have seen them," William offered.
"Yes," the Overboss said. "You can get back to it, Mason. Take me another outpost."
"Yes, ma'am," the Alpha said happily.
"I'm going back to the Terminal," the Overboss continued. "I'll tell Mags to build that radio tower we discussed. Be ready to receive."
"Of course. William, prepare a bag for the Overboss's trip," Mason said. William inclined his head, and got to work.
The Overboss strolled out, her expression empty, absently toying with the Disciple's knife in her hands.
