25.

Tom was on his way down to the café for lunch when he was pulled aside by an older man with a grizzly white beard and wearing a vest.

"They're saying you killed that group of ghouls from the Warrington Tunnels," he said, "Is that true?"

Tom hesitated a moment before answering, "I performed a service for Mr. Tenpenny and Mr. Burke; why?"

The man shook his head, "Did you even try to find a peaceful solution?"

Tom frowned, "Why does it matter to you so much, sir?"
"Young man, I'm Herbert 'Daring' Dashwood… haven't you realised that?"

Tom shook his head, "I've never heard of you, I'm afraid."

The man was thoroughly perplexed by this, "Well that's just… well anyway, the point is I knew a ghoul named Argyle, once, and he was a very dear friend of mine. Take it from somebody who knows: a ghoul is only as bad as the way he is treated. It may not be a popular notion, but I happen to believe it."

Tom looked around a moment before taking Dashwood by the arm and pulling him even further aside and whispering to him, "Get out of here now."

"Are you threatening me boy?"

Tom held up his finger and shushed him, "No. The ghouls are alive and I'm helping them get in tonight. If you're still here they'll kill you."

Dashwood was shocked, "What have you done?"
"I made a deal. Now get out of here."

Dashwood opened his mouth to say more, then decided otherwise and headed off. There was much gossip around the hotel that afternoon about the abrupt departure of the resident celebrity, Herbert 'Daring' Dashwood. Many a chuckle was exchanged over the notion that had left in order to have one last adventure.

Tom could say little on the subject, but hoped the old man survived the wasteland.

It was getting close to five in the morning when Tom walked out of the hotel, his backpack slung over his shoulder and striding over to where Gustavo sat slumped in his chair. His coffee mug lay on the ground, the last of its contents spilt on the ground.

Tom had 'accidentally' bumped into Gustavo at the start of his shift, knocking his coffee over. As an apology Tom fetched him a second cup; what Gustavo didn't know was that Tom had laced the drink with an experimental chem he had bought from Moira. She had originally tried to design something that would simply relax the subject, but it ended up far more potent than she intended.

This had been perfect for Tom's needs.

Now Gustavo was fast asleep, his mouth hanging open, and wouldn't wake for another few hours.

Tom silently searched the guard's pockets before finally coming across a key ring. He pulled it free and then made his way around to the back of the building, past a small target range with crudely made dummies fort targets.

The door to the generator room was at the bottom of a set of stairs that led down into the ground. Tom fiddled with the keys a moment before finally finding the right one and opening the door.

The stairwell automatically lit up when Tom opened the door and he descended, passing through several rooms and corridors before finally finding the room he was looking for. Mounted on the metal wall was a computer terminal, its monitor glowing green. On the right was a heavy looking door and on the left was a small opening through which Tom could see the room beyond through the crisscrossed bars that covered it. Standing in the room was Roy and his gang, including Bessie and Michael.

Roy spotted Tom, "Hey kid. That computer there will disengage the locks to that door there and the door to the basement of the hotel. When you unlock them you, Michael, Bessie and I are going to take the guards out in front of the hotel and then we're going to let the ferals loose inside."
Tom nodded along and then looked over at the computer terminal. He pressed a few keys before realising the machine required a password.

"The computer's locked," Tom said through the bars.

Michael walked over, "I'll guide you through hacking it; do exactly as I say."

It took five minutes for Michael to guide Tom through hacking the terminal, but they eventually achieved it and the locks on the doors sprang back.
Roy, Michael and Bessie immediately stepped through and the four of them made their way back outside.

"Got a knife?" Roy asked as they walked.

Tom shook his head.

Roy pulled a kitchen knife from his belt and handed it to Tom. "We need to do this quick and quiet," he muttered as he pulled his own long hunting knife from his belt as well, "Don't want to get caught in a fire fight before anything even happens. It'll be dawn soon; the ferals go nuts at dawn, the transition from night to day freaks them out."

There was one guard for each of them. They all snuck into position, with Tom standing behind Gustavo.

Roy raised his arm and made a fist, bringing it down, the signal to strike.

Tom closed his eyes and pressed the blade to Gustavo's throat, drawing it across the skin as hard as he could. The skin and muscle gave easier than he feared and Gustavo immediately began to shudder and choke.

Tom stepped back fast, not wanting the blood to get on him and he watched the guard topple over, his blood mixing with the coffee on the ground.

Tom looked over to see the ghouls already walking back. Roy looked Gustavo over, "That's a pretty clean cut, smoothskin. Not bad," he looked over to Michael and Bessie, "Let the ferals into the hotel."

They left and Roy and Tom moved over to the front doors of the hotel.

"Here," Roy said, pulling something from his pocket and tossing it to Tom, "Michael's idea."
Tom used the light from his Pip-Boy to inspect what looked like pieces of skin roughly sewn together to make a macabre mask.

"It's a ghoul mask," Roy said, "So the ferals won't attack you. Good thing too: wouldn't have occurred to me."

Tom raised his eyebrows, "That's comforting."
Roy smiled, "Don't take it personally. You're not bad for a smoothskin." He checked his rifle as Tom pulled his shotgun, "Remember," he said, "If it looks horrifying and dead don't shoot it."

Tom nodded.

Suddenly a scream erupted from within the hotel, followed by the sound of a gunshot. Tom figured the receptionist, whom never seemed to sleep, had found the first ghouls and gotten her hands on a gun.

"That's our cue," Roy said and he moved forward and kicked the doors in.

They ran forward and Tom immediately began to witness the carnage.

The feral ghouls were chasing down residents, leaping from the balcony above to land on victims in the foyer below, biting down, tasting their blood and feeding, all the while hissing and roaring with delight.

The non-ferals were kicking doors in and spraying rooms with bullets. One had already fallen to a resident fighting back. He was now in a firefight with another, but Roy quickly fired on him, ripping him to pieces.

Tom could see the receptionist wasn't down yet, though blood was flowing freely from a wound at her side. She was firing a small handgun, knocking ferals down with head shots and occasionally getting close enough to a non-feral to break a neck or twist an arm.

Tom felt a moment of doubt as he raised his shot gun and pulled the trigger, taking her down. She fell, several new wounds in her chest, dropping her gun. She was immediately set upon by several ferals.

After about five minutes the Tower's remaining guards had banded together, holding the stairs that led to the other floors. Ferals were falling in piles as they held a fierce fight with Roy's gang.

Tom tried to aid them, but the guards were holding their own fairly well.

"They won't last long," Roy assured him, "The ferals get a bloodlust that can't be halted. They've got not survival instinct: they'll just keep charging until they break through. Either that or I'll do it. It'll take more than a handful of bullets to lay me out."

"I'm going to take the elevator up to the penthouse," Tom said.

Roy shook his head, "The elevator doors will be covered, you'll be walking into a trap."
"No choice," Tom said, "I can't give them any time to think of a plan. It's now or never."

Roy grimaced, "It was good knowing you kid. Hope you survive."
They shook hands and Tom walked over to the elevator, stepped in and waited patiently as the elevator took him up to the top floor.

Roy was right about them waiting for him. Tom stepped to the side of the elevator pressing himself against the wall, waiting for the doors to open. It wasn't a great plan, but it was all he had.

Luck was on his side though.

When the doors opened the guard waiting immediately opened fire, spraying the back wall with bullets, completely obliterating the nice finish.

After he'd emptied a clip he reloaded and stepped forward to inspect what he now suspected might have been an empty, decoy elevator. He peered down at the floor, noticing something that looked like some kind of mask, poorly sewn together, lying there.

Tom timed it as well as he could, stepping forward and smashing the butt of the shotgun into the guard's face. He was thrown off his feet and fell hard on his back. Tom quickly turned the gun around and fired, closing his eyes as he blew away the guard's face, splattering the floor with blood, bone and grey matter.

Tom cleared the other penthouses, finding them all empty. He decided that they must be on the balcony.

When Tom stepped out the sun was breaching the horizon and Tenpenny was sitting at his table, the sniper propped up against the rail next to him.

Tom pointed the gun at his head, not thinking to check, only fearing the deadly aim from his sniper, "Where's Burke, Allistair?"
Tenpenny smiled as Tom felt the cold muzzle settle on the back of his head, "Why, I'm right behind you, Mr. Williams."

Tom froze as the sound of Burke's voice chilled his blood.

"You played the game rather well," Tenpenny said, "Right up until the end. You spent so much time making sure you could get out after you killed us that you didn't stop to think if you could kill us. Not three months ago you were just a little vault dweller, and now you think you can just kill two of the most powerful men in the capitol wasteland?"

Tom glared back silently.

"Gun on the ground, please."
Tom slowly crouched down, laying the shotgun gently on the ground and then standing up, raising his arms in the air.

"That won't be necessary," Burke said.

"Actually it is," he suddenly made a fist with his left hand, the hand next to the open wasteland, and jerked his head to the side.

His trust in his accomplice's timing paid off: before Burke could put the gun back to Tom's head a hole was blown through his left arm just above the elbow. The white arm of his suit exploded with a flash of red and Burke cried out and dropped his gun.
Tom spun around and threw his fist into the side of Burke's face, following with a punch to the stomach and then a knee, before throwing an upper cut into his face, throwing him against the wall. His glasses and hat fell away, revealing his incredibly pale blue eyes that seemed to burn with malice and evil.

Tom turned away to deal with Tenpenny before he could reach his sniper, but Burke was far tougher than he thought. With the speed of a striking snake Burke launched forward and swung his uninjured arm around, a small shining blade in his hand. Tom was just fast enough to get his hands up in time to stop the blade from opening up his throat.

Tenpenny had now grabbed his sniper and was fiddling with loading a bullet in.

Burke's strength was intense as he and Tom grunted, the battle now one of brute strength. Tom could feel the blade inching closer and closer to his throat as he tried to force it back, pushing his head back. In a last ditch effort he leaned forward, pushing hard against the blade and letting his head hang over, and then threw his head back hard, the back of his head breaking Burke's nose. Burke stumbled back and his strength failed. Tom twisted from his grip and pushed him back as his sharp shooting accomplice fired again. A wound in Burke's neck exploded outward, spraying blood, from the shot and he stumbled backwards, choking and groaning.

Tom turned back to Tenpenny, but he had the sniper loaded and pointed straight at Tom's head. He was still sitting in his chair and he was at an angle where the railing blocked him from view of Tom's accomplice.

"Everybody treats me like I'm made of glass. I'm not as frail as everybody thinks. You've been nothing but a pain in the arse since you climbed out of that vault, just like your father all those years ago."

Tom's eyes widened.

Tenpenny smiled, "Yes, James Williams got himself quite a reputation, before you were born, that is. But I can see you have no idea what I'm talking about," his smile widened, "And now you never will."

He pulled the trigger.

Tom flinched.

A small click followed by silence.

Tom opened his eyes and realised the gun had jammed.

Tenpenny's eyes widened as he moved to unjam the weapon, but Tom was too fast. He leapt forward, kicking the table up in front of him. Chess pieces and the board flew through the air as Tenpenny cowered. Tom grabbed the barrel of the sniper, pulled it forward and then drove the butt into Tenpenny's face, knocking him and the chair toppling backwards.

Tom threw the gun aside, grabbed Tenpenny and pulled him to his feet, throwing him around, holding him by the back of the shirt. He let go and Tenpenny crashed into and then over the railing.

Tom rushed forward as Tenpenny's frail hands only just managed to grip onto the edge of the railing. He shrieked and begged as his legs dangled in the air, the ground below seeming to gape like an infinite and hungry mouth.

"Please," Tenpenny shrieked, "Don't let me fall I'll do anything!"

Tom grabbed Tenpenny's wrist, "Tell me what you know about my father!"

"He was a scientist!" he shouted, "twenty years ago I had Burke approach him about a project and he impolitely turned him down. He was a do-gooder, a pain the arse for the few entrepreneurs out here."
"That's impossible," Tom shouted, "He was born in the vault, just like the rest of us. Nobody enters and nobody leaves, that's how it works. He only escaped a few weeks ago."

"No James Williams was a scientist in DC, a genius! Wasted genius! He disappeared shortly after his wife died."

"His wife was my mother and she died giving birth to me…" Tom's voice broke as he realised what that meant.

"You weren't born in the vault!" Tenpenny yelled, "Now that's everything I know, please help me up!"

Tom looked down at the man, the man who had just destroyed all of his preconceptions about the vault, his father… even himself.

He despised him, "Offer me money!"
"Yes!"
"Power too, promise me that!"

"All that I have and more: please!"

"Offer me anything I ask for!"

"Anything you want!"

Tom leaned right over the railing, "Tell me where exactly my father worked!"
Tenpenny shrieked hysterically, "I don't know! What do you want from me!"

"I want my father back, you son of a bitch!" Tom screamed back.

Suddenly there was a shot and Tom felt white hot pain burn across his back. He cried out and turned to see Burke, pale with blood-loss and stained in red, rushing forward, one arm dangling limply and the other gripping his hand gun, his hand slick with blood. His paling skin only emphasised the cold blue of his eyes.

Tom rushed forward to meet him, picking his shot gun up and swinging it, knocking the gun from Burke's hand. He brought the barrel up and pointed the gun at Burke's head and Burke froze, hatred burning in his eyes, "Tell me one thing," he panted, "Before you pull the trigger. Who's your friend out there?"

"Turn and look down at the Robco building," Tom said.

Burke, exhausted, turned and looked down.

"Say hello to Sheriff Lucas Simms."

Simms, whom was lying flat on his stomach on top of the rock pile behind the billboard by the Robco facility that Tom had told him about, watched as Burke turned and immediately knew that Tom was giving him what he wanted. He squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew forward.

Burke's head seemed to blow black like a splash of water, exploding in a wave of red. His body was thrown back and fell to the ground, and the great, deadly and mysterious Mr. Burke was destroyed.

Tom turned back to Tenpenny, still hanging on by the tips of his fingers, "Tell me everything you know!" he shouted over the wind.

"I can't hold on anymore!" Tenpenny cried out, "I'm slipping."
"Tell me!" Tom roared stepping forward: he wasn't going to let Tenpenny escape through death so easily. He reached forward to grasp Tenpenny's wrist… but too late.

Tenpenny let out a final shriek as his hands slipped and fell through Tom's grasp. He screamed for the duration of his short, but drawn out, fall, until his midriff met the stone wall. The force of his fall combined with the strength of the wall tore him in half and his upper torso rolled out into the wasteland, blood trickling from the corner of his still gaping mouth, his face still frozen in an expression of deep fear from the last moment of his life.

Tom looked down at this grizzly sight, filled not with regret, but anger: answers he needed had just been snatched from his hands.

As he turned away and started towards the door he saw Burke's blood flecked glasses on the ground in front of him. Without pausing he stepped forward and crushed the glasses under his foot, and they cracked and twisted out of shape, the ruins ground into the stone floor.