The Initiate: Chapter Eighteen

- Catherine Prescott-Rothchild -

"Good Afternoon," a skeletal man said as he entered her holding cell. He wore an outfit that vaguely resembled a vault suit, but it was darker and much more decorated. It hugged his thin frame snuggly and the stark contrast between the dark material and the man's pale complexion made him seem even more ethereal as he lowered his spindly body into a seat across from the scientist.

Catherine stared boldly into the bald man's strange grey eyes hoping to gauge his intentions and convince him that she was undaunted by her present situation. Considering the knot in her stomach, it was a difficult bluff.

"Nyhils Listner, Vice President of the United States of America," the eerie man said by way of introduction as he settled into his seat. He didn't bother to offer her his hand; they both knew she wouldn't have accepted it if he had.

"Katy Rothchild," Catherine replied flatly, "Prisoner of the Enclave."

"Now Miss… Rothchild was it?" the Vice President replied condescendingly. His raised eyebrows causing the wrinkled skin above to bunch up like an accordion on his forehead. "There is no need for hostility; you are a welcomed guest of the U.S. Government."

Catherine didn't respond to that nonsense. She merely continued to glare into those cold, grey eyes.

"In fact," Nyhils continued, "It would seem we have some common goals, you and I, and the government would like to enlist your services… for a generous fee I might add…"

"I assure you, Mr. Listner, that you and I have nothing in common." Catherine replied, refusing to dignify the man with the title of 'Vice President',

"Now Catherine," the wraith-like man shook his pale, bald head in mock disappointment, "May I call you Catherine..?"

Catherine remained silent. She held the man's gaze and struggled to keep her expression neutral as the knot in her stomach began to tighten.

"Now Catherine," he continued unperturbed by her reticence, "let me assure you that we have more in common than you think."

"You don't know a thing about me," the woman replied, hoping her assertion was correct but fearing that it wasn't.

"No?" The man had that smug, sardonic look on his face once again. He was obviously enjoying this cat and mouse game, but it looked as if he were ready to pounce. "I know more about you and your life, Mrs. Prescott, than even you do."

Catherine wasn't sure exactly what the disturbing man meant by that remark, but somehow she believed that it was true. Despite her rising fear, she was anxious to hear what this strange Enclave official thought he knew about her.

"For example," he began with a wicked grin, "I know you are not Katy Rothchild from Megaton, but are, in fact, Catherine Prescott from Vault 101. I know you specialize in computer science and once created a virus that assumed control of your vault systems. I know you and your first husband, James, sabotaged your labs and hid your research. I know you left the vault and worked at Rivet City for several years before you went back into hiding with the Brotherhood of Steel."

"That is all ancient history," Catherine replied defiantly. She wasn't all that shocked that the government had this information. She knew that Alphonse Almodovar had been supplying them with intel for decades and she knew she hadn't done a good job of covering her tracks in those early years after leaving the vault. But she was worried that this dangerous man was just getting started.

"So it is," Nyhils continued calmly, "so let me bring you up to date on current events. We know that your son also escaped the vault and has also been hiding with you and the Brotherhood at their headquarters in the Pentagon. We know that you embedded your research on your son's Pip-Boy and used that information to convince the scientists at Rivet City to revitalize the project at the Jefferson Memorial. And we know that you believe a Garden of Eden Creation Kit is required to bring the project to fruition."

Catherine felt a ripple of shock register on her face, but she quickly fought it back. This information didn't come from Alphonse Almodovar, but Catherine suspected she knew the Enclave's source. "What have you done to Anna?" Catherine replied coldly.

"Very astute," the gaunt official said, his face cracking into his wicked smile once more. He seemed to appreciate the woman's power of deduction. "Ms. Holt is perfectly fine I assure you. In fact, she has been getting along quite well with her new position as Director of our Bioengineering Lab. It seems she was underappreciated at her former laboratory. As I've told you, Catherine, we have common goals."

The vault scientist finally broke eye contact with the official, choosing instead to look down at the desk as she processed all that he had told her. She had to admit that he did seem sincere, but this was the same Enclave she had read about on Alphonse's secret partition. They were the same people that had gunned down Janice in cold blood. How could they be on the same team..?

The man seemed to read her skepticism and he continued his pitch, "To prove that your government wants to work with you, Catherine, I will share with you some facts that you probably do not know. For example, do you know that Alphonse Almodovar is dead?"

Catherine looked up from the table and met those haze-grey eyes again. This time her shock was mixed with another emotion. She hated to admit it, but that emotion was relief. "Then who is overseeing the vault?" she managed to ask.

"Ah," the man's wicked smile broadened. "His daughter has assumed that role. She has been very instrumental in helping me track down your son."

"Amata!" Catherine blurted aloud. She knew, of course, that Alphonse Almodovar was not to be trusted, but could his daughter be as evil? Joules said the two of them were practically engaged. Could the Enclave be coercing the young woman to cooperate somehow?

"Indeed," Nyhils confirmed. "Amata Almodovar is a very ambitious and capable young woman."

"How did Alphonse die?" Catherine inquired. She would worry about Amata later. For now she needed to gather as many facts as the Enclave official was willing to share.

"Now that, Mrs. Rothchild, is a very interesting story. It would seem that the death of your first husband was greatly exaggerated by Mr. Almodovar."

"That's not possible," Catherine said with a confident shake of her head. "My son informed me that James died due to extreme radiation exposure when he destroyed the lab."

"Your son, like the rest of the vault population, was misled by Mr. Almodovar," Nyhils patiently explained. "The radiation didn't kill your husband, Catherine, it mutated him."

"Mutated..?" Catherine was having trouble trying to wrap her brain around the information she was receiving.

"Yes," Nyhils said solemnly. "I'm sure you are familiar with the Super Mutants that populate the Capital Wasteland.

Catherine nodded mechanically.

"Well, their development is due, in large part, to the research that was done on your husband in a secret laboratory built in the bowels of Vault 101. A laboratory that he was imprisoned in until he broke free several months ago and sought his revenge on Mr. Almodovar."

"I don't believe that…" Catherine protested, though her voice didn't match her words. She struggled to understand the officer's motive behind telling her all of this.

"I gain nothing by telling you lies, Catherine," the Vice President countered, again seeming to read her thoughts.

"Then where is he now?" She was reluctant even to ask the question. Reluctant to let herself even begin to believe the outrageous story this man was telling her. "Locked in the bowels of the vault again..?"

"No," the Vice President shook his head with a hint of frustration. "Overseer Almodovar informed me that the mutant has escaped the vault and is at large in the Wasteland."

"And why are you telling me all of this," she finally had to ask, unable to keep the suspicion out of her eyes.

"I've told you. We are on the same side. You have spent your life trying to discover ways to restore some order to this war ravaged world. I have done the same. I want to offer the people a strong government that will organize and protect this nation as it tries to rise from the ashes."

"And the mutants," Catherine snapped. "Are they the government's way of protecting the people?"

"You've seen the world outside your vault, Catherine," Nyhils explained. "The Wasteland is a harsh, hostile landscape full of small communities of people who are primarily fending for themselves. It's a kill or be killed mentality. Survival of the fittest."

"Not everyone is like that," she protested.

"A solid majority," Nyhils stated firmly. "Raiders, mercenaries, slavers, scavengers… It's a world full of opportunists, and the minute that one group gets something to improve their situation, another group wants to take it away. That is why we need a strong government to establish order and protect the population from threats both internal and external. We thought we could do that by creating a bigger, better soldier. I admit to you, Catherine, that the mutant program has seen much more failure than it has success. It was a noble idea, but it was a mistake."

Catherine was shocked by the Vice President's candor. He truly seemed to detest the mutant program. But she still had her reservations about the man. Maybe he did believe what he was telling her, or maybe he was a really good actor. Either way, there was still something about him that she didn't trust.

"And how do I fit in to any of this?" Catherine finally asked. "I'm a scientist not a politician. I know nothing about creating a strong and stable nation."

"I disagree," the man replied earnestly. "It is exactly the scientists who will stabilize our nation. Project Purity alone could usher in a whole new era for this country."

"So you want me to continue my work on the project for the Enclave."

"No," Nyhils shook his head. "Ms. Holt can handle that. But if she is successful, imagine the ramifications. As I said, it's an unstable, kill or be killed world out there right now. What will other fledgling nations do when they discover that America has pure water once again?"

"Couldn't we work with other nations to help them establish their own purification systems?" Catherine knew the answer before she even finished asking the question. It was a noble idea, but the infrastructure for international cooperation didn't exist in the war torn world, and probably wouldn't for another century.

"Perhaps you are more of a politician than you think," Nyhils replied with a genuine smile, "but diplomacy is not currently an option. At the moment we don't know if the GECK will even work, or how many such devices are available to the nation even if it does. But we know for a fact that other nations will want pure water and they will come and take it by force if necessary."

Catherine nodded. The Vice President made a compelling argument, but she still didn't understand how she factored into defending the nation.

"Protection," Nyhils responded to her unasked question, "will become as important as pure water. We must safeguard America's interests. Are your familiar with ODeN?"

"The pre-War Orbital Defense Network?" Catherine clarified. She hadn't heard that acronym since she had come across it during her early research in some government sites tied to the vault computers. The project was top secret, but of course, she had ways around that sort of thing.

"Precisely," Nyhils nodded. He didn't seem surprised that she was privy to the classified information. "That is the kind of protection that could guarantee the safety of our nation's resources and people."

Catherine nodded as well. She couldn't argue with the man's reasoning, but she still doubted his motives. She couldn't explain it, but she got the sense that there was more to his interests than just national security. Yet, she could see an opportunity to put her skills to use, and it wouldn't hurt to look into the notion while she looked into the Vice President's objectives and gained access to the Enclave's archives.

"And you think I can do what a team of pre-War scientists couldn't?" Catherine asked, testing the man's resolve.

"I know you can, Mrs. Prescott." The Vice President assured her.

"It's Prescott-Rothchild," she corrected. "And I'll need a computer."


- Father Clifford -

The Church of Saint Monica was dimly lit at this hour. Rivet City Security Force had already established the Darken Ship condition for the evening which left Father Clifford cleaning up by the soft glow of the back-lit stained glass windows and the votive candles that his patrons had lit for loved ones lost or those who needed some extra attention from the Lord almighty.

The old priest always found this time of day the most peaceful. With his evening service finished, Father Clifford enjoyed the opportunity to quietly reflect on the day, the humble chapel he had constructed in the heart of the Capital Wasteland, and the life he had enjoyed for more than sixty years.

There was generally no one to disrupt the priest's precious period of introspection this late in the evening, so it was curious for him to hear the church door creak open and see two men approach through the flickering shadows of the vestibule.

Father Clifford didn't recognize either man, but he knew who they were by the way they strode down the center aisle between the pews. The older of the two strutted toward the priest with an arrogance of aristocracy. The man exuded an air of condescension that made it seem as if he were above the squalor of his surroundings. It was the kind of attitude, especially in a humble house of God, which set the old priest on edge.

The man's companion, however, was the one that really gave away their identity. The younger man strode with confidence as well, but there was no arrogance in his motion. Instead, each measured step was made with a precision and synchronized cadence that was common among androids. Every step was exactly the same distance as the one before. Every footfall occurred at exactly the same rate. The mechanized movements were subtle and nearly impossible for the average observer to detect, but Father Clifford had experience in these matters.

"Good evening, Father," the older gentlemen said as he approached the priest. He wore a vintage, pre-War suit and an annoying expression of superiority.

"Good evening," Father Clifford offered a pleasant smile that he hoped masked the sudden nervousness he felt from the intruders. "I'm afraid you gentlemen have missed our evening mass."

"Indeed we have," the man replied with a sinister smile of his own. "Luckily we came here to speak with you, Father, not the Lord."

"I see," the priest replied with a growing unease. "Would you like me to take your confessions?" he added, indicating the confessional in the corner of the church with a wave of his hand. The old priest knew that wasn't the reason for their visit, but he was willing to continue the charade as long as they were.

"Actually, Father, we are here to take your confession," the man replied ominously.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Sir," the priest replied even though he was sure he knew exactly what the men were after.

"Let's not insult one another," the old man in the suit said. He removed the thick spectacles he was wearing and began to polish the lenses with a handkerchief. "I think you guessed who I was the minute I walked through the door. And if not, you certainly recognized what my companion here is. I saw it in your eyes, Father."

"Some of my parishioners have mentioned a man from the Commonwealth asking questions about an escaped android. He is said to be traveling with a quiet companion. I assume you are Dr. Zimmer from the Institute."

"You assume correctly," Dr. Zimmer smiled mirthlessly as he replaced his glasses upon his large, beak-like nose. "And my quiet companion here is A4-05, our latest and greatest military model."

"It's nice to meet you, Armitage," Father Clifford said, addressing the android directly and pointedly refusing to refer to the entity by its model number."

The android nodded, but remained silent.

Father Clifford marveled at the mechanical man standing before him. The priest was immediately overwhelmed by those old familiar feelings he always felt when faced with an un-actualized android. Father Clifford took great pleasure in helping the people of his parish find their way to God and invite salvation into their souls, but saving a soul paled in comparison to witnessing the miracle of the birth of one. There were few people who possessed the priest's ability to help an android instantiate its soul, and there was nothing more satisfying for the old pontiff. He knew he had a gift, and he knew it had to be Saint Monica herself who had bestowed upon him the ability to perform the miracle of bringing God's synthetic children into the fold. He also knew it was this gift that had brought the Railroad to his doorstep, and unfortunately, the Institute as well…

Dr. Zimmer seemed to notice the way Father Clifford was gazing at Armitage and the doctor was able to guess what the priest was thinking. The implication of stealing another one of his robots appeared to irritate the Commonwealth scientist and he scowled as he said, "This is a nice church you have managed to cobble together."

"Thank you," the priest replied wondering where Zimmer was going with this. "Saint Monica protects her flock."

"Ah yes, the Patron Saint of Lost Children," Dr. Zimmer stated as he sauntered over to a large tapestry of the Saint that hung above the votive candle rack along one of the wood paneled walls of Father Clifford's church.

"All God's children are welcome here," the pontiff said pointedly.

"Some of my children too, as I understand," Dr. Zimmer stated darkly, glancing at the priest over the rim of his glasses with open accusation.

"A soul is a soul, doctor. God doesn't care how it comes into being." Father Clifford retorted. He knew that Zimmer was intentionally provoking him, but controlling his passion had always been difficult when it came to matters of salvation. Besides, Zimmer seemed to know that the church was affiliated with the Railroad, so there was no use feigning ignorance any longer.

"Maybe God doesn't care, but the Institute does!" Zimmer barked as his thin veil of civility began to slip away. "Now tell me what you've done with my android!"

"I have done what I was put on this earth to do!" Father Clifford barked back. "I help them understand themselves. I usher them into the light. I deliver their newborn souls unto the Lord."

"Tell me where to find A3-21 or I will have Armitage deliver your soul to the Lord!" Dr. Zimmer shouted.

Father Clifford stood frozen, seething with anger at the callousness of the Commonwealth man. The pontiff remained stubbornly silent, glowering at the arrogant scientist from the north.

"You suffer from delusions of grandeur, Father Clifford. You think you are saving these machines when all you are doing is exploiting a glitch in their programming. You haven't discovered their souls, Father, all you've discovered is a bug in their software…"

"You're wrong, Doctor, I've seen them come to life with my own eyes," the priest replied earnestly.

"You say there is humanity inside an android. I say there is a computer processor that follows the instructions given to it by its programmer. Let's see who's right, shall we?" Zimmer growled menacingly. "Armitage, extract the location of A3-21 from this subject. Excessive force is authorized!"

"I am an agent of the Synth Retention Bureau," the android stated formally as it approached the priest. "You will provide me with the information requested."

Father Clifford maintained a stoic silence. He knew, given several sessions with this android, he could help Armitage enlighten himself and find his way to the Lord; but here, at this moment, there was no use appealing to the android's uncultivated humanity. The process took time, and unfortunately, that was the one commodity that the priest seemed to be lacking. His fate was in the hands of Saint Monica now, and if she thought it was time for him to meet his maker then the old pontiff was prepared.

The SRB agent delivered a punch to father Clifford's midsection and sent the old man crumbling to the floor. The priest was convinced the inhuman strength of the android's blow had undoubtedly cracked several ribs. He was also convinced that these men intended to kill him.

"Where is my android?!" Zimmer bellowed again.

"I don't know," the priest replied weekly.

"Armitage, help Father Clifford to his feet."

The android reached down with just one arm and roughly yanked the old man off the ground by the hand. Father Clifford couldn't stifle his yelp as both his damaged midsection and his crushed fingers exploded with agony.

"We think you do know, Father," Zimmer informed him.

"I merely assist with the self-actualization process," Father Clifford confessed. "That is my function for the Railroad. I only interact with the androids prior to their decision to undergo the procedure. I never know who they become afterwards. I met A3-21 when he was still an agent for the Bureau. He came to question me about the Railroad and we began to discuss more philosophical issues. A3-21 could be any member of my congregation now…"

"And who performs these procedures," Zimmer hissed as he stuck his beaky nose mere inches from the father's frightened face.

When the priest didn't answer, the Commonwealth scientist nodded at Armitage and the robot intensified its grip on the pontiff's hand.

Father Clifford howled again as one of his fingers snapped with a sickening pop. He felt faint and would have collapsed to the ground a second time had the android not had ahold of him. The priest knew he was being obstinate for no reason. Horace Pinkerton was long gone. It would do no harm to reveal his identity…

While the priest wrestled with what information he should and shouldn't divulge, the android had wrapped his other hand around the priest's throat and began choking the life out of him.

"Well, Father, what's it going to be?" Zimmer asked wickedly, his face still inches from the priest's. "You'd better make a decision soon; I can see a slight petechial hemorrhaging beginning in those wide eyes of yours…"

"Pinkerton," Father Clifford croaked from beneath the iron grip of the android. The grip loosened slightly and the priest filled his empty lungs with oxygen and then gasped, "Dr. Horace Pinkerton did the procedures."

"Very good, Father," Zimmer clucked approvingly. "And where do we locate this Dr. Pinkerton?"

"You don't," the priest wheezed. "Pinkerton disappeared from Rivet City nearly a decade ago."

"You're lying!" Zimmer growled dangerously.

With what strength he had left, Father Clifford shook his head in vehement denial as he felt the android's grip tightening once more. He tried to deny Zimmer's accusation verbally but the words were choked off.

Dr. Zimmer let Armitage strangle the priest a few moments longer before instructing the android to let Father Clifford speak. The doctor seemed to be enjoying watching the pontiff suffer for what Zimmer clearly considered to be sins against the Institute.

"It's… true…" Father Clifford stammered as he gulped in air once again. "Things were coming unraveled in the city back then. Dr. Pinkerton and Dr. Li were constantly arguing over which direction to take the lab, your Bureau was sniffing around Rivet City, and even the Railroad suspended their operations out of our Church. The city's social mindset was changing and Horace Pinkerton seemed disillusioned and unable to change with it. He abandoned his lab and his seat on the council and just… vanished…"

"Sounds like Dr. Pinkerton became just another lost child…" the Commonwealth scientist remarked sardonically with an air of mock sadness as he turned from the priest and selected a votive candle from the rack. "And now it would seem that Saint Monica is about to lose another one of her children…" he added evilly as he held the candle up to the magnificent tapestry depicting the saint leading a flock of children into a beautiful sunlit field filled with flowers.

"Lord have mercy!" the pontiff prayed aloud. Father Clifford could only stare helplessly in horror as thick red flames began to consume the precious mural.

"Let's hope your faith in the Lord serves you better than your faith in the humanity of machines," Zimmer shouted above the crackling of the fire that was quickly climbing up the wooden paneling. "But I doubt even Saint Monica can save you now," the doctor added as he gave another nod to his android.

Armitage immediately rammed his bald head into the bridge of the pontiff's nose, shattering the cartilage and splattering blood all over the elderly man's face. Although he somehow maintained consciousness amidst the blinding pain, Father Clifford crumpled to the floor again as the android released its grip on him.

The priest looked up through blurry, tear-filled eyes that distorted the image of the android looming over him shrouded in a wall of flames. Through the pain and the tears, the entire scene seemed surreal to the old priest and swirling around in his head was the ironic realization that he had devoted so many years to bringing life to synthesized humans and now one was going to take away his own.

One of the android's boots slammed into the old man's ribcage undoubtedly cracking whatever ribs hadn't already been broken. The blow felt like he'd been hit with a super sledge and the explosion in his midsection was excruciating. Much to his dismay, the priest was surprised to discover that he was not yet past the point of feeling pain, but he knew it wouldn't be much longer before he joined Saint Monica in that beautiful field of flowers.

As he waited for the android to kick him into the afterlife, the priest heard the ship's fire alarm begin to blare. Although the firemain system and piping had deteriorated long ago, the alarm system still alerted the Rivet City firefighters to danger.

Instead of another kick, Father Clifford heard Dr. Zimmer command his android to exit. "Come along Armitage," the Doctor ordered, "Father Clifford is in God's hands now…"


Author's note: I wanted to take a moment to address some questions that I got from an anonymous review several chapters ago regarding the Butch and Janice situation:

1. Why didn't I mention Janice being killed? Janice is shot in the stomach and killed by Jack Smith in Chapter 13. It's only a quick couple paragraphs, so read carefully or you might miss it...

2. Doesn't Butch want to know who did it? Butch knows she was killed by the Enclave when they seized the memorial. Butch blames them of course, but he also blames Rivet City for sending Janice there and himself for letting her go. He basically blames the entire Universe for dumping on him.

3. Doesn't Butch want revenge? Butch wants revenge, but not against a single person. He wants revenge against the Universe and his bad luck. He has given up on reformation and has reverted back to his Butch Against the World strategy.

I hope that answers the mail, and keep the questions coming. As always, I truly appreciate the feedback!