AN: I was super stuck on this chapter... still no sure if I'm happy with it... nah... might rewrite later.. we'll see. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, followed & favourited. I was honestly not expecting anyone to read my shit. Also, remember I am going to be condensing a chapter soon to make them line up.

Chapter 28 – Devastation and Ruin

The lights went out and all hell broke loose.

Coursers… Everywhere.

Max and Maxson stumbled into the central courtyard, guns blazing. The hoods on their stealth suits gave them night vision, so Max looked around quickly gauging the level of threat. The level was pretty fucking high…

They knew from their very detailed files that the Institute had twenty seventy coursers currently active. Two were dead on the floor of the SRB, leaving the dozen insurgents a further twenty five to face… yep, they all seemed to be here.

Maxs 10mm quietly flashed as she rained bullets on the coursers, they were tough. She had to nearly empty a whole clip into one before it went down for good. The laser rifles that were carried by the Brotherhood were, for some reason, near useless against them. The beams of focused light bounced off the coursers with such little effect that Maxson just began using his rifle as a club. Pounding it into the head of a courser until its skull shattered under the barrage.

Max had not anticipated the ineffectiveness of the Brotherhood weapons. But she should have. Their own stealth suits were designed to deflect energy weapons, it was the reason she had pressed them all into using them. The Institute coursers all used energy weapons and she saw it as a huge advantage if it were to come to this.

Why wouldn't the Institute employ the same or at least similar tech for their coursers? She cursed to herself. Projectiles and hand to hand combat were their best and only options. How many people in their group had the weapons and skills to fight these things?

Across the lush central court yard the sound of open combat rang out. She saw two of theirs, had to be Rhys and Preston, spill out of Advance Systems, beset on all sides by Coursers and she started in that direction to help, shouting into her pipboy. "Haylen, Ingram… we need reinforcements. No laser weapons. High Calibre rounds. Everyone… now!"

Maxson was on her heals as she barrelled into the closest courser, spear tackling it to the ground. Maxson smashed it in the face over and over with the butt of his rifle as it struggled with Max on the ground. She released it finally and was on her feet in a second. Her 10mm trained on the courser stalking Preston… she guessed it was Preston? She fired and emptied her clip into it… this wouldn't last if it took a whole magazine to bring one down. She only had two clips left. She had to admit to her shortcomings in hand to hand combat, especially against these things. She couldn't play the long grappling game here.

And then things just got worse.

Dozens of Gen two synths… dozens of them, joined the fight. They were easier to take down, being vulnerable to the energy weapons but there were just so many of them. By now there were ten of their people in the courtyard, they had all been pushed from their objectives. The only ones not there, seemed to be Teagan and Sturges who had taken the reactor. They must be OK, the lights were out, exactly as planned, but Preston and Rhys had been in there too and they were deeply involved with Coursers and Gen twos now. Ingram and Haylen must still be at the relay because there was the elevator descending into the courtyard, carrying her brave Minutemen. She saw Arturo, Nick and Moe in the group but had to turn away before she could identify anymore.

Maxson was on the ground, a courser astride his chest beating him about the face with its fists. Max came up behind it and levered her elbow around its throat and dragged it off him. She latched onto the courser, locking in a rear naked choke that left it flopping about on the floor, trying to be rid of her. Maxson took up guard of her and her flailing prey, his laser flashing brightly, eliminating a whole legion of Gen twos.

When she finally released the limp body of the courser she noted the elevator had opened and spilled the contents onto the quadrant floor. She saw Nick slap a .44 into the hand of a stealth suited man... it was Danse, she knew that vast frame anywhere.

The battle was in full swing now and Max dove into the fray headfirst, dispatching gen twos by the score, but the Coursers were so much harder to bring down and they stalked amongst the Minutemen and the insurgents like deadly vipers. One of the stealth clad team was down and not moving and two of the Minutemen who had just joined the fight were down just as quickly, their eyes wide, unblinking and devoid of life.

The two women, MacNamara and Cait, their body shapes easy to pick out in the stealth suits dropped one of the coursers together. Cait, pounding on the bastard with everything she had learned in the Combat Zone coming into play. Another went down, Max wasn't sure who it was in the stealth suits that dispatched it. She saw Danse tussling with one who was flitting in and out of sight, a stealthboy obviously being used. He seemed to have it well in hand so she picked out one at random and went for it. It was going for Nick so she grabbed it from behind and pressed her pistol against its ear and fired shot after shot into its brain.

Maxson was at her side again loading fresh fusion cells into his rifle. They both looked up together. More Minutemen were descending into the battle on the elevator from the relay room. It looked like Haylen and Ingram had literally called up everyone. Max saw Codsworth was one of this group, before she flew back into the fight. Where had all of these damned Gen twos come from?


Danse must be getting soft, too much time cosying up to the general and not enough time spent working his damned body. He had seen her across the central courtyard, dragging a Courser across the floor by its throat. She did not seem fatigued in the slightest, it seemed like a lovely amble in the park for her.

Danse didn't have time to dwell on it as he was then set upon by a courser of his own, it had come at him under the cover of a stealthboy, striking at Danse with the butt of a laser pistol and then leaping on him. Danse struggled with it, the stealthboy blinking on and off as they rolled on the floor, Danse managed to get control and rolled on top of it, ramming his elbows into its face with as much force as he could muster and it growled up at him as its face began to cave in, into a mushy puddle of blood, bone and gore.

Danse was up and breathing hard when saw that one of the team was down. He bolted towards them. He looked for a pulse before grabbing whoever it was and dragging their prone body across the floor to a sheltered area by some stairs. He pulled off the hood and swore. Hudson, one of his long time brothers in arms had fallen. MacCready had been his partner… Where was MacCready?

Danse had no time for grief. As he saw another of his team beset by a group of Gen twos and a Courser. Danse barrelled straight into the back of the Courser, the forceful shoulder charge sending the two of them both careening into a very solid wall. He wished that he hadn't spent all of his .44 rounds so quickly, the gun Nick Valentine had given him was tucked uselessly inside his suit.

Each precious round had found their mark, but it was too little to matter in this battleground. He struggled with his Courser, who was taken off balance by the tank of a man crashing into it. But Danse dispatched it quickly.

Or at least he thought he had, as soon as he turned his back the battered Courser was on its feet again and leaping onto Danses back and making an animal sound as it drove something sharp into the mans chest. Danse stumbled forward, pitching the courser over his head. He then stomped on it repeatedly until there was no way that it was getting up again, unless it could figure out how to sprout a new head. He hand went to his chest protectively and came away wet with blood. He fumbled with one of his pockets and drew out a stimpak depressing it into the wound. He didn't have time to bleed.

He circled around, looking for his next victim when he caught sight of something that made his blood run cold. He had to protect the Elder.

He ran… He ran with every ounce strength he could summon, hurtling across the circular courtyard like a bullet from a gun. Maxson move! … Move Dammit!

But Maxson didn't see, he was engaged with a courser and a small contingent of gen twos and Max couldn't protect his back as Preston was injured and she was batting back an institute lackey of her own. Everyone else was likewise engaged.

"Get Down Maxson!" He roared… no use, too much noise.

He sprinted hard and collected Maxson in his arms, ramming him hard into the steel doors of the Synth Retention Lab, sheltering the young leader with his body from the blast. The missile exploded as it hit where the elder had just been standing, the force of it propelling Danse hard against the door. He felt his forehead bounce off the hard steel and he saw stars.

Maxson. Was Maxson OK?

Danse looked over the Elder as best as could. The damned stealth suits. You couldn't see blood on the damned things.

"Elder? Are you OK?" Danse shouted.

Maxson shook his head to clear his ears of the ringing. "Fine soldier. My thanks."

Danse grabbed hold of Maxsons shoulder and looked hard at his former leaders covered face. Before turning and returning to the pitched battle behind him. He cast his eyes upward looking for the courser with the missile launcher. There it was, a level up on the balcony. It was looking down with malice, loading another missile onto the chamber. It straightened and took aim at Danse.

Danse was not going to stand around and wait for that to hit him. He was off again running across the courtyard and plunging into one of the stairwells taking the steps two or three at a time as he sought the courser that had almost killed his former leader and friend. He made it to the correct level and barrelled through the archway to the balcony and received a missile launcher to the chin for his trouble.


Max was fighting hard. She had dragged Preston out of the fray as best she could after using the last of her ammo on the courser that had injured him. She looked around quickly spotting a very fast moving Danse sprint across the floor and duck into a stairwell. She picked up a discarded laser rifle and sent a few blasts into a group of Gen twos. Their numbers didn't seem to be waning and there were still… what, ten? Twelve Coursers?

Maxson seemed to be getting targeted by them, he had two more on him now. Max drew a deep breath, held the laser rifle like a baseball bat and ran at them. She came at them low, swinging the laser rifle and striking in the back of the closest ones knees. It tumbled forwards knocking the other off balance. It gave Maxson the advantage and he began to lay into the courser. Max climbed astride the other and bashed at it with the laser rifle. She was taken aback when a hand carrying a loaded .44 popped into her line of sight and sent three rounds into her Coursers temple before the owner of the hand took off again.

She looked after him and climbed off the corpse and caught sight of movement in her peripheral vision. She caught her breath. Danse was hanging from the second level, clinging to the chest of courser who was struggling to shake him off. Danse fists were bunched in the black leather coat of the Institute Synth as he struggled to pull himself back up over the railing. She watched as he flailed about desperately trying to hang on.

She could almost see him make the decision. His body stilling of barest of moments before he braced his booted feet on the balcony wall and pushed himself back off with all of his might.

As if in slow motion, the courser was pulled forwards, teetering on the brink before finally falling over the edge, Danses strong hands pulling it to its demise. Danse fell along with it.

Her body froze as she watched him fall, as if in slow motion to the unforgiving sterile floor. The air seemed to be sucked from the room, from her very lungs. There was an odd pinging sound in her brain, like a wire that had been pulled too tight and had finally snapped under too much force. She heard a dull rushing in her ears as her blood began to surge through her veins and her sight became clarified and tinted red.

She made no sound as she surged forwards… no one would survive this terrifying onslaught tonight… the Wrath of Maxine Everton would be absolute.