OoO( 14 )OoO

When the nightmares finally ended, John opened his eyes slowly. The dim light of the lamp in his room stinging his eyes, despite its low wattage. He felt tired, drained, his body aching as if he was an empty husk of a human that was lost in limbo. As he awoke, the first thing he noticed was that his throat was extremely dry. Coughing gently, he looked around for where he usually kept a spare bottle of water. There were several now sitting on the small table next to him.

He tried to reach up with one of his sore arms and grab one, but couldn't move it. He started to panic, thinking that he was living the nightmare again, however as he looked down at the limb in question, he noticed that it was tied to to bed with a leather strap. After he calmed himself, he also spotted the young blonde girl laying on top of him, snoring gently. Not wanting to wake her yet, he tugged gently on his legs, and found them bound and stinging where the belts contacted his skin.

"What the fuck?" he asked, letting his head fall against the mattress again.

Lucy must have heard the comment, because she immediately woke up with a yawn and sat up, staring at him through sleepy eyes. Lifting herself off of his form, as if reading his mind, she reached out and grabbed one of the bottles of water and cracked it open. He quickly leaned up as much as he could, allowing her to pour some of the sweet, somewhat cool, life-giving liquid into his mouth. He gulped it down quickly, almost choking, before the woman rubbed the back of his head gently, calming him down.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his voice still showing his exhaustion.

She reached down, unbuckling both of his arms from the bed, then began rubbing the feeling back into them. "They said it was med-x. You used too much, too fast, so your body got too used to it. And when you stopped taking it after getting back, your body started to go through withdrawals," she said, her fingers avoiding the track marks on his arm as she continued rubbing the circulation through his limbs again.

John just stared at the ceiling. "I...was addicted?" he asked incredulously as he reached up with one of his freed hands and gently rubbed his still cloudy head. She nodded, and willed his mind to remember each and every time he had been shot, or blown up, or really anything that had caused him pain. And sure enough, each time he had taken a hit, he pulled out another med-x. Then he recalled consistently having head pains after a while, realizing that it was his addiction punishing him for not feeding it. "What the fuck...?" he asked, less of a question and more of a statement of exasperation.

She looked down at him, her own tired eyes now smiling. "You were having nightmares. The doctor said that usually, the first time someone breaks a habit like this, they dream about spiders swarming all over them," she said, looking down to him for clarification. He just nodded, making her chuckle. "I probably would have died from fright right there. Spiders terrify me," she finished.

He chuckled at the girl's comment, then reached up and pulled her down so that she was laying on him again. "Thank you Lucy, for being here..." he said with a sigh.

"The doc said that as soon as you're awake, you should come see him. He said he had something that could help with the withdrawal effects," she said, looking up at him.

He nodded and began to sit up again. "Guess I better go find him then. Thanks again," he said, before leaning down and kissing her forehead, making her giggle.

OoOoO

When John finally stumbled into the doctor's clinic, he saw Doc Church sitting on the desk, with his cane in his hands as usual, and another man sitting on the surgical table. Both of the figures looked over at the gunman as he approached the white haired doctor.

"Ah, there he is. Good to see you moving again," said the old man as he walked over and pointed to a chair. "Sit," he commanded, making John walk immediately take the chair eagerly. As he sat, Doc Church began hooking up an IV to his arm. The gunman quickly realized that he was being eyed by the man sitting on the table.

"Haven't seen you around here. Just come to Megaton?" asked the gunman as he eyed the stranger who was slouching on the surgical table.

The doctor chuckled as he finally finished the IV. "Actually, you two have met before. But the last time you saw him he looked like a tomato."

Recognition finally dawned on John as he looked at the man again. The swelling had mostly vanished from the stranger's face, though he still had a cut here and there. But now that he had a clear view of the man's features, he felt his skin crawl, his hand aching to reach for a gun he didn't have on him.

"Yeah...I was pretty messed up when I came in. If it wasn't for the doctor here and a few volunteers, I'd probably be radscorpion food by now," said the man as he looked at the ground. John fixed the man with a glare, while in his head, rolling over the pros and cons of nabbing the doctor's cane to beat him with.

"So, what's your name?" asked the former vault dweller.

The man thought for a moment before answering. "Michael. My name is Michael," he said, his now shorter hair having been cut since his surgery.

John cocked an eyebrow at him. "You hesitated for a second," he pointed out, strangely sensing on odd peacefulness from the raider.

The man nodded, running his hand through his newly shorn hair. "I...want to be honest with everyone. I used to be a raider, and used to go by the name Dozer." John nodded, and the man continued. "It was given to me by the gang for how easily I could..." he said, then stopped.

John chuckled. "Plow?" he asked, knowing the innuendo for what it was.

The man nodded slightly. "I was very popular among the women. But..." he said and released a heavy sigh. "I'm no longer that person. I have been reborn in the light of the Archangel. As such, I will no longer need such a filthy name."

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but Archangel?" asked John as he felt the cool liquid from the IV finally start to pump into his system.

Michael nodded eagerly, his mood changing and looking as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I was at Super Duper Mart with the gang that made its home there. The...Chainspikes...Spikechains...whatever. As I was there, I heard a loud explosion from inside the store while I was...bulldozing," he said, looking away in shame. "When I went to check on it, the entire store was consumed in fire, and everyone was dead. They were taken apart by a single figure bearing a sword of fire in one hand and a rifle in the other," he said, his voice upping in scale as if he were preaching from a pulpit.

John stared at him in shock. "A sword of fire?" he asked bewildered. He remembered the machete he had stolen, but it wasn't on fire. Then again, with the fire blazing all around them, it wasn't out of the question that the reflective side of the blade may have mirrored the flames, creating the illusion of it being flaming. John glared over at Doc Church as the man began chuckling.

Michael nodded with a smile. "A blade of fire. He had fire in his eyes as well," he said, tapping his temple. John rubbed his forehead, noting that the glass from his goggles might have had the same effect. "Even when my...err...partner came out and tried to kill him, she fired so many rounds! But not a single one hit him, and he smote her with his blade. It was the single most glorious, and terrifying thing I have ever seen. For some reason, the Archangel let me go. He didn't kill me, despite my sinful ways. So, as terrified as I was, I ran. I ran until I ran into the rest of the Spikechains... or Chainspikes...or whatever. They found me and grabbed me. I tried to tell them that they would die if they were to go back, but they went anyway. I told them he'd kill them and they didn't believe me! Why didn't they believe me!?" the man cried out in frustration.

John just looked away awkwardly. He was there, doing the job for Moira, and trying to save his own ass, while making his own job easier. He didn't expect from that one explosion he'd get a reputation as a holy figure. But he turned back to the man and continued his questions. "What happened after you told them?"

"They beat me senseless. Then my former leader put a bullet in my back after calling me a coward," he said sighing, then cleared his throat. "Not to be vain or petty, but I heard from the good doctor here..." at this, John snorted, which got him a middle finger from Doc Church. Michael looked between them both, then continued. "The doctor told me that the gang had indeed been wiped out, down to the last man. So I guess they now have judgement in the Lord's eyes awaiting them."

Doc Church went from chuckling, to full blown laughing, his deep voice echoing across the clinic. Both of the men looked at him as he stood up with his cane and walked over to John. "You know the procedure when you're finished here. You aren't allowed to go anywhere until I see that this shit is out of your system for good," he told the gunman. John looked outraged as the doctor turned to Michael. "You're free to go when you like," he said, then walked to the door, still laughing loudly.

"He's a very strange man," said Michael as his eyes lingered on the door. Then he turned to John, a curious look in his eyes. "So...how about you? What do you do here?"

John looked at him with surprise. "I...don't really know. I...get things done for people I guess," he said, scratching his hair. He had never really thought about what he did, or what title it would hold. He just strove to make the wasteland better.

The man's curiosity piqued at the declaration. "So, if I were to ask you if you could find something for me, you'd do it?"

John shrugged indifferently. "It depends really. If you want a vintage brandy of the 1900's, or a working car, then I'm afraid I don't really have the time or resources to put into a search like that. But, if you need something that you know the location of, or that I can easily find in my travels, then I'll definitely keep an eye out for it and bring it back," he finished, turning to see the bag hanging next to him half empty.

The man set his chin in his hand and nodded, thinking to himself. Then, he looked up at John. "I would like you to find me a Bible."

John cocked an eyebrow, then thought about it for a moment. "I don't think that's too tall of an ask. I'll keep an eye out for one," said John, looking up at the man's now grateful expression.

"Thank you! It would mean much to me," he said bowing his head respectfully.

"So, what do you plan to do now that your raiding days are over?" asked the gunman as he lit the last yacht club in the pack.

"I'm...not sure. I'd like to get by just telling my story. But I'm not sure if that'll go over well here, what with the Children of Atom," he said, scratching his head nervously. "I'd really like to stay here. Just thinking about going into the wastes again haunts me, but I'd prefer to be somewhere where I can spread the word," he said, his tone a bit disappointed.

John nodded sagely. "This is a free city. Though you may have some verbal scuffles with the Children of Atom, you are just as free to preach here as they are. And if they have an issue with it, then they can have a word with me or Sheriff Simms."

The man looked at him, then smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you...I didn't expect such kindness from someone here, especially given my history" he said, the last part coming out quieter than the rest. "Perhaps you can also find me a place where I may conduct my preaching?" he asked, his expression showing he was hopeful, but not expecting a miracle.

John chuckled lightly. "If I were you, I'd take some time to look around town. Confessor Cromwell stands at the bomb because he was called to it. You may have a similar experience," he finished as he looked up and saw the last of the fluids from the IV drain into him. Sitting up, he pressed a cloth to the puncture site and slid the needle out of his skin. Once he was free from the tubing, he stood up and cleaned the site, before wrapping the cloth around it. "So...have you seen this Archangel since the Super Duper Mart?"

Michael looked at him oddly. "I...don't know what you mean," he said, a confused expression masking his face.

"You know that it was likely a real person right?" John asked, trying to do damage control on the new nickname.

The man shook his head defiantly. "No, I saw fire in his eyes, quite literally. And I know when I've seen a shishcabob...or whatever those damn things are called. This was no machine. It was a blade, and it was made of flames," he said firmly as he crossed his arms.

John shrugged and headed for the door. "Just thought I'd ask. In any case, try to get ahold of me when you find a place to stay. That way I know where to bring your book to," he said, getting a nod from the man. When John left the clinic, he just chuckled and shook his head. "Who am I to shatter his dreams?" he asked nobody in particular. He supposed that he didn't have to steal the fire from the man's convictions. All he really needed to do was detach himself from the incident so that he wouldn't be targeted with the idea of being some holy figure. That was the last thing he needed at the moment.

When he made it back to his house, he plopped down on the couch and just leaned back with a sigh. "How'd it go?" asked a female voice from above. John opened his eyes and looked at the girl, who's hair now draped down around her face instead of being tied into a ponytail. His eyes widened slightly, never having seen her hair down before.

"He just gave me some fluids to flush everything out. I'm probably going to be using the bathroom quite a bit over the next week," he said with a chuckle. "Ended up meeting a curious ex-raider too. He claimed that an Archangel from God scared him out of his raiding ways at Super Duper Mart."

Lucy came down the stairs and eyed him curiously. "Isn't that where you went last week?" she asked curiously, making him nod. "So...he thinks you were some kind of angel of death?" John nodded once again. Lucy chuckled sat next to him on the couch with his hunting rifle. "If only he knew you were actually a giant teddy bear," she said, nudging him with her elbow.

He chuckled and nuzzled into her shoulder, looking down at the rifle in her hands. "Going hunting?"

She waved the question off with her hand. "No no, I took it apart while you were gone to see the differences. So far it looks like the only thing that needs replaced is the barrel. Everything else looks like it's in good condition," she remarked as she opened the chamber a few times to test the smoothness of the mechanism. He pulled away and cocked an eyebrow.

"A case of the student surpassing the master huh?" he asked jokingly, earning him a stern glare from the girl.

"Oh please. You could probably do this blindfolded. Not to mention there are still many parts in here that I have no clue as to what they do," she said, leaning the bent rifle against the couch. "So, what's in the day planner?" she asked as she now held his energy weapon, cleaning the dirt and grime from the wasteland off with a rag.

"Hungry...you hungry?" he asked, his head turning towards her as it leaned back on the top of the couch.

"I could eat," she said simply, a small flush starting to creep over her face. He noticed the reaction, and tilted his head curiously as she looked away to hide her embarrassment. "I...I've never had a guy ask me out to dinner before," she responded meekly.

He tried, but he failed. He knew from experience with Amata that laughing when a girl revealed something about herself to a guy she trusted was never a good thing. In fact, in the list of all the bad things you could verbally do to a girl you liked, that was among the worst. It had gotten him distant glares and a cold shoulder for a week back when he was twelve. But this time, he got his toes smashed by the butt of his large energy weapon.

His foot flew up onto the couch, where he clamped his hands around the throbbing appendages, his face squished in a mask of pain. "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow! What was that for!?" he asked incredulously.

She just glared at him. "We both know what that was for," she said, laying the large weapon in her lap and continuing to clean it again. After a long awkward silence, she looked over as he chuckled again.

"My bad. Sometimes I'm a bit thick when it comes to girls," he said, rubbing the soreness out of his toes. "I've been stuck in a vault my entire life, where everybody knows everything about everybody. Secrets are rarely kept quiet for long." She nodded, chuckling herself.

"No worries. So, are you going to take me out, or not?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the barrel of the weapon to keep from seeming too interested.

"Depends on if I can walk," he said, avoiding another glare sent his way. He stood and wiggled the digits, then grabbed his shirt and pulled it on over his head. Reaching down, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Well, let's go then," he said, leading her out the door.

A couple minutes later, and both of them were sitting at a stool in front of the small bar at the Brass Lantern. Jenny Stahl was currently cooking some meat for them on her small improvised grill that she had put together. "So kid, heard you had a rough night last night," said the older woman as she turned to the pair.

John nodded, a bit uncomfortable about everyone in the town knowing about his episode. "Yeah...hopefully that will be the last time."

"I hope so. It's a tough thing to fight," she said, her face revealing that she had some experience in that kind of situation. But her face softened again as she slapped the meat onto a pair of plates. "Either way, I'm glad to see you back on your feet. And I hope that this kind of hurdle doesn't stop the Archangel from doing his good deeds in the wasteland," she said with an amused smirk.

John looked up at her, an expression of shock on his face. He stared at her for a long moment before sighing and burying his face in his hands. "How many?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "How many what?"

"How many other people know about the whole Archangel thing?" he questioned, his voice grumbling, which sent Lucy into a fit of giggling. His glare only made her giggle more.

"Oh, I'd say about...somewhere around...the whole city," responded Jenny as she reached back into her now cooling refrigerator and grabbed a bottle, then spread its contents over the meat in front of them. "Funny thing is, the poor guy genuinely believes he saw an angel. No matter how many people tell him that what he saw was a guy, he refuses to believe it," she said, pushing the plates towards them.

He just sighed and looked at her between his fingers. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Bad, because he's now delusional, or good, because he doesn't think I'm some kind of divine being," he said as he set in to eating his plate of meat.

"So mister Archangel, care to pay for my dinner," asked Lucy, an innocent, dreamy look on her face.

"Keep making fun of me and I'll kick that adorable tush back to the house," he threatened, sending both women into laughter.

When the meal was finished, they both sat at the counter drinking a cold beer and chit chatting with Ms. Stahl and Maggie, who had come by for dinner. But the talking stopped when Sheriff Simms approached them. "Hey John, I've got something on the radio that you need to hear," said the man as he nudged the gunman with his elbow.

John turned and looked at him curiously. "What is it? Did that President Eden guy have a kid or something?" he asked with a smirk. But his jovial nature vanished when he saw that Lucas was far from kidding. "What is it?"

"You should listen to it yourself. It's broadcasting now, so you should be able to pull it up on your pipboy." John nodded, then started to scan through the frequencies on his radio. Almost immediately, he found the signal, and it started playing again.

"I repeat, this is Defender Morrill with the Outcasts, reporting from an outpost in Bailey's Crossroads. We are looking for anyone in the Capital Wasteland who may have a specific piece of Vault-Tec equipment called a Personal Information Processor. If you happen to have one of these devices, meet us at the Bailey's Crossroads. And if you manage to catch one of the live broadcasts, hail us back on this frequency," said a mysterious voice over the recording.

After the broadcast ended, it started at the beginning again. John shut the radio off and looked up at Simms. "Do you know when they broadcast live?" he asked.

"The last broadcast before that one was live. It sounds like they do it about every hour or so. If you keep an ear on it, you can probably listen for them. But..." he said, a look of concern on his face. "Are you going to go to them?"

John looked the sheriff over curiously. "You seem concerned. Is there something I should know about these Outcasts?"

Lucas shrugged. "They've never crossed my path before. But I've heard from a few friends of mine that they're not that great of people. They have a mission, and if their mission leads to saving you, they'll do it. But if it goes through you, they'll have no problem removing you as an obstacle," said the sheriff in a grim tone.

"So, let's say they wanted my pipboy here..." said John, tapping on the computer on his arm.

"They'd more than likely kill you and take it off you," said the sheriff, making Lucy eye the two as they stopped talking and let the thought sink in.

"So don't help them," she chimed in. They both looked at her, John smiling and Lucas chuckling. "What?" she asked huffily.

"I like the attitude," said John he leaned over towards her. She elbowed him in the side playfully.

"They promised a reward on the live broadcast. And a reward from the Outcasts could be something big," said the sheriff, scratching his bearded chin. "They're a bunch of tech hoarders, so it could be something good. But then again, is it worth the risk that they might end up hacking your arm off?"

John thought about it for a moment. "The doc said I'm not to do anything strenuous for a while. So I'll need to discuss with them exactly what it is they want me to do. We'll see what I can work around then," he said getting a nod from Lucas.

"Alright, just be sure that whatever you do, take precautions. We almost lost you once already, it'd be a damn shame if you walked into a trap right after your recovery," said Lucas as he tipped his hat, then turned and was off once again, his sheriff duster swirling as the wind picked up.

"How are you going to get there if you can't do anything strenuous?" asked Lucy in a concerned undertone that John didn't miss.

"I'll have to hire someone to take me. Or have them come here and get me," he said, thinking about it as he puffed on a cigarette known as a Square that Jenny had given him. "I guess I'll have to talk to them and find out," he said, then turned to her with a smile. "Come on, let's go home."

An hour later, John sat with his pipboy radio set to the radio frequency of the Outcasts and waited. He had already heard the looped message a few times, the monotonous message making him twitch every time he heard it. But after about ten minutes of the unending looped message, a human voice finally came from the pipboy.

"This is Defender Morrill. If you're hearing this, I ask you to respond to the message you've heard. The Outcasts are looking for someone with a Vault-Tec created Personal Information Processor, and are willing to reward anyone who comes forward with any knowledge of where to find one, or if they have one themselves. If anyone hears this, please respond," said the voice.

"Defender Morrill, this is John Ronas, talking to you over said Vault-Tec pipboy version 3000. I wish to discuss with you the terms of my journey to the Bailey's Crossroads Metro," responded the gunman over the comm.

The voice was silent for a long moment. "Alright Mr. Ronas. From where are you radioing?" asked the Outcast.

"Defender, if I told you that, there's a possibility that you could find me and take my pipboy without negotiations. So instead, why don't you tell me what you need me to do, so I can decide if I am capable," he ordered, unsure of how the mechanical sounding voice would take the suspicion.

Again, the radio was silent for a long moment. Then the voice popped up again. "Alright Mr. Ronas, here's what we need..."