Modus Operandi 25
Sarah awoke in a cold sweat. She stared at the ceiling of her father's quarters, trying to suppress the feeling that the trog horde was trying to get in the door. The lumpy couch underneath her was forcing her back to twist into an uncomfortable position. She blinked blearily and sat up, rubbing the back of her neck. Her father had sat down in a chair nearby with a book, reading by the light of a small lamp. He had dozed off with the book lying haphazardly in his lap.
Sarah rose and walked over to a wash basin which was filled with fresh aqua pura daily by an initiate. A clean glass was sitting on the counter. She dipped it into the fresh, clean water and took a long drink. Then she splashed some on the back of her neck and stared into the mirror. Her face was not as she remembered it. It was gaunt, pale, and slightly deadened. All the cuts and bruises sustained during her three-week nightmare were only just beginning to heal, leaving her face discolored and swollen in places. She was not going to come away from it without a few scars. The wound in her shoulder ached madly.
Her father stirred, awakened by the noise. "Sarah? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine." She said abruptly, "I just…" she turned and sat back down on the couch, staring into the lamp, "I never thought I'd encounter a place where the people were worse off than in the capital wasteland."
"They do exist." Lyons replied, folding up his book and setting it down on a side table, "And the Pitt is certainly a prime example."
"Was." Sarah muttered.
"Were you the one who did it?"
"No it was the Lone Wanderer," Sarah replied, "It was his plan. He pushed the button."
"If it was the Lone Wanderer who did it, then I suspect it would have happened whether you were there or not, and whether you had tried to stop him or not." Her father said, trying to comfort her with what they both knew. The attempt was somewhat successful.
"He said it would save the capital wasteland."
"He said that?" her father asked thoughtfully.
Sarah nodded.
"Then I believe him," Owyn told her, "Despite everything, he knows more, has been further, and thought much deeper on all the issues we've tried to deal with. I truly regret the fact he is unwilling to work with us more closely. I've often wondered why that is. I suppose he is arrogant."
"No," Sarah shook her head, "He's practical. We're good, but the stuff he does, and the places he goes…we cannot keep up, and any soldier that tried would get killed doing it. I'm good with a weapon. I can handle myself, and I've been fighting the supermutants for twenty years-"
"You are the best, Sarah." her father said proudly, "that is why you're a Sentinel."
"Dad, in the Pitt I was a liability. I could barely keep myself alive as it was, never mind contributing towards any sort of objective."
"You were ill-equipped," Lyons argued, "You did not have power armour or any heavy weaponry."
"Dad, I would have needed an army! The Lyons' Pride in full gear with all our ammo would have had a hard time! Those trog hordes were fucking relentless! But I bet if you stripped Jason naked and handed him a switchblade he could make it through. We cannot operate the way he operates. We can only move in after he's finished and make sure that the changes he makes are permanent."
Her father was frowning, "Jason?"
Sarah deflated, "It's his name."
Owyn Lyons rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I did not know that."
"Did you ever ask him?"
"No." Lyons admitted. ,"but I'm surprised to find out that you did."
Sarah stared at the floor. She could feel her father's gaze lingering on her. He said, "Is there anything you wish to tell me, Sarah?"
"No," she said.
"And what of the Wanderer's companion, Leo?" her father asked, "Glade gave me a report. What do you make of him?"
"I think he's a lot smarter than either of us." Sarah admitted, "But the thought that a mutie might be smart scares me."
"It shouldn't," her father said, "long before your time, the brotherhood encountered a race of smart supermutants in a place called Mariposa."
"I know about that…" said Sarah, "But at least you could talk to them. Imagine the mutants here with all of their strength, determination, and hostility. If they were smart too, we probably wouldn't survive."
"I think you are right about that, Sarah." Her father said honestly.
Sarah nodded. Silence fell over them. Eventually Sarah looked up at him, "What about Ishmael Ashur?"
"What about him?"
"How long did you know he was still alive?"
"Three years," her father said, "the Wanderer told me of his first trip to the Pitt. It brought back many bad memories. What we did there, Sarah, was wrong."
"Yeah, about that," she said, "You only changed your mind about saving people after the scourge. Not before."
Lyons sighed, "Do you remember the night we corralled those civilians and slaughtered them?"
"I do."
"I would not have bothered me but for one thing: Sentinel Ashur's reaction." Lyons told her, "He asked if it was necessary. Considering the fact that our rewards turned out to be nothing more than a few more soldiers, some supplies, Kodiak, and Three-Dog, I would say it was not."
Sarah stared, "Three-Dog came from the Pitt?"
Her father snorted, "He started somewhere, and that somewhere was the Pitt. Where do you think he learned about 'the good fight'?"
"I just…" Sarah shrugged, "He just always has been."
"I know what you mean." her father agreed, "people like that aren't born, but made."
"So Three-Dog aside the scourge was the wrong move." Sarah prompted.
"In hindsight, events tend to be much clearer than they are when one is in the thick of them." Lyons told her thoughtfully, "I was plagued by guilt after the scourge. Believe me, it did not happen overnight. Ashur's reaction made me curious at first. Then I slowly grew to understand his position, and or mistake. We were in the capital wasteland for several years before I finally decided to…expand the scope our objectives. Long story short, we are here now in this position, outgunned, undermanned, and fighting a losing battle because of what we did to the Pitt. Because of what I did to the Pitt. It is my Penance, Sarah," He sighed, "it was no easy thing to admit to myself that I deserve it."
"But… It's your penance." Sarah pointed out, "not the Brotherhood's. All of your soldiers still fight under your name."
"Not all of them." Lyons pointed out. "Do you remember when the Outcasts first split?"
Sarah nodded. She had been a young teenager then, not fully aware of the deep rift the brotherhood was undergoing. As she ran the memories of the Scourge through her mind, watched the people crawling over eachother as the explosives rained down, Sarah felt a surge of anger towards the Outcasts replace the typical yearning for a whole and untarnished brotherhood. They actually wished to continue to operate with complete detachment from any sort of humanitarian efforts...
"In a way, we are the outcasts." her father said, sighing, "They are the true face of the Brotherhood of Steel and ever since the scourge, I have never been able to bring myself to like it."
The hairs on the back of Jason's neck were standing up on end as he stared at the message written on the wall. He had rapidly discovered that the only thing worse than a vault full of supermutants was a vault completely devoid of them. The tunnels of Murder Pass had been completely empty. Even the bodies from Jason's previous visits had been removed. And the vault itself had been stripped of all supplies. Anything that might have been remotely useful including all the computers and data storage, all the tables and chairs, all the lockers, everything right down to the last spoon, was completely gone. No furniture, no bodies in the FEV testing chambers, and no lights. Even the lightbulbs had been removed. If it weren't for the map on his pipboy, Jason would have been completely lost in the darkness. Then he'd entered the central room; the hub, from which all the different corridors branched away.
And written in blood, just below the window in the overseer's office, in giant, scrawling letters were the words:
Brutus Says Unity!
The hairs on the back of his neck rose even further. Something else was in the vault with him. Jason turned, putting his back to the wall, heart pounding. He peered into the darkness beyond his little pool of light. There…in the empty darkness…a darker shadow…almost invisible. Almost. Jason stared at it, trying to make out its shape. He blinked and peered even harder, assault rifle at the ready, but somehow the empty darkness was a little emptier still.
Alright so setup for the sequel...
and it may have been a stretch to have Three-Dog come from the pitt, but it's not much of one, seeing as how he says in game that his childhood was absolutely miserable and that he saw a lot of "fucked up" stuff. Go and visit him in-game to find the actual quote.