Morgan awoke a few hours after fainting, she started with a gasp and groaned, feeling incredibly pained.
Heather was sat across the room, looking out of the gaping hole in the hotel's wall, across the city. Well, she was, until Morgan woke up...
The former slave placed her shotgun on the ground and got up, timidly approaching the scientist as she saw her stir...
"Fucking hell..." Morgan groaned. "Who removed the bullets? My arms bloody screwed..."
"Th-That was Garry..." Heather replied, sheepishly as she sat on the coffee table, resting her shotgun on her lap.
"He said that he needed them out of your body, so that he could use the stimpaks on you."
"Stimpaks...Christ..." Morgan muttered. "Is the wound stitched at least?"
"Best I could... Yeah..." Heather uttered, not too confident in her abilities with a needle and thread.
"Garry gave you pills as well, so you don't get sick... Anti somethings?"
"Antibiotics." Morgan whispered, trying to sit up and groaning in frustration when the pain overwhelmed her.
"Gonna have to put it in a sling. Fantastic..."
"We have some bed sheets that we can use for the material, I-I've gotten pretty good at sewing." The Former slave insisted, looking over the wound to see for herself.
"Does it hurt?"
"Have you ever had a bullet in you?" Morgan muttered. "Yes. It hurts."
"Erm... No actually, I got cut with a knife once and that really hurt, Garry said that I got lucky to..." She uttered, gently rubbing her neck as she thought on it.
"Garry... Got shot once, I thought he was going to die, when it happened."
"Yeah I'm sure it was all very traumatic or whatever." Morgan said rudely as she finally heaved herself up into a sitting position with a loud grunt.
God, where do I go from here?
"My gun and my last grenade and mine, since I assume you took them away." Morgan said simply. "I need that sling, and then I'll be out of here."
"I can't give you those, not until Garry wakes up... Sorry but you could get hurt or get me into trouble if I let you go, without his okay." The former slave bumbled as she tried to give an explanation. She didn't expect their patient to be so... hostile...
"So... go wake him up?" Morgan sighed. She hated dealing with people. Teenagers are the worst.
"But... He doesn't get much sleep as it is, he'll get mad at me again..." Heather sighed, tightening her grip on her gun.
"Can't you just... rest a while? You can't even sit up..."
"I guess I have to..." Morgan relented. "Still want that sling tho."
"I'll work on it, it'll give me somethin' to do at least..." Heather sighed, holstering her shotgun and getting up, wandering across the blasted-out room to find some materials.
Morgan had passed out again shortly after Heather had gone to the other side of the room to scrounge up something coherent enough to make a sling.
It's a good thing she elected to stay…
Why'd they even bother saving me anyway? Her voice echoed in her mind.
Heather worked on the sling, stripping the bits of material, by ripping it with her hands as she stitched a sling together, constantly looking up to check on Morgan.
Rook had retrieved his pistol and shotgun and exited the ARC. He followed his tracks exactly, eventually coming back to where he had shot the raider. The man had had the good sense to move and the better sense to hide when Rook walked past.
The android didn't even spare him a glance. He had to press on. He had to find his friend.
After a pause, Maxwell released the second catch and the briefcase jumped open.
No explosion, that was good.
The DJ carefully opened it up.
It was like the synthetic said... A whole load of documents. And the flaked off pieces of a face, as if some ghoul had desperately tried to keep it.
"bleh..." Maxwell grimaced.
He passed it on to Curtis while he started sifting through the documents.
Curtis let out a sigh when they failed to explode and took the face pieces without question, though after glancing at them, tossed them into a nearby wastebasket.
"So, how's that look?" he asked Maxwell.
"Hey careful with that!" Maxwell chastised Curtis.
Curtis simply looked at Maxwell for several seconds. "You want spare face chunks?" He glanced to the wastebasket and then to the door before returning his gaze to the DJ. "because judging from the look of that...guy, that the owner probably won't be looking for it."
"Why would he give it in the first place?"
"It might be disgusting but it might be useful." Maxwell reasoned.
"These documents though... Don't appear to be any good news."
"Well...shit." Curtis shook his head as he took another vial of Jet out and inhaled. "What about that holotape he mentioned?"
Maxwell picked up the holotape and walked over to the record player. He made sure he didn't broadcast, not just yet.
"Dreadful... Absolutely dreadful." an old voice sounded.
Ania Ray could be heard sighing.
"Not your style?"
"No... Just look at how big this place is... a hundred people could fit in here."
"If they can afford it, they probably could yes" Ania snarled back.
"This is were our ideologies clash, miss Ray..." The older voice pointed out.
"Just get it over with. I don't like being threatened."
"Alright. This is one last request; after which I guarantee you will have no more problems with my Thongzi..."
"Good. I'm listening." Ania sounded relieved.
"I want you to have one of your masquerade balls. Something that appeals a lot of people to your club."
"My club already attracts a lot of people." Ania protested
"... A club packed with rich fatcats. Only your fancy parties attract the creme de la creme..."
"And install the technology Dr. Governor was so kind to provide us."
"What? In my own club?! You must be mad!"
There was a silence.
"Sigh... Fine. But I'm not turning into one of your zombies..."
"Of course not."
Some muffling.
"Here... Wear these headphones. They cancel out the psychotronic waves."
"Chao-Xing you are a right bitch... you hear." Ania protested. Feeling somewhat scared of the old woman commanding her.
"We need to test if psychotronics work on a mass scale. Miss Ray. That is all."
Maxwell fell back into his chair. This was quite heavy.
"Well... Seems there's been some intrigue going on." The DJ said with a sense of deliberate understatement as he looked at the documents again.
"But what can we do?"
"Ania's not of concern anymore, if anything releasing this information would just spark mob justice and revolution in Time Square... No, I don't need the death of more innocents on my hands."
Curtis shivered, remembering his meeting with 'mother' Xing.
"You have to do something. If that bitch needs rich slaves, then she's planning something big." Curtis glanced down at his pistol, which he now realized had been unloaded the entire time, before replacing it and smiling back at the DJ. "You could play it as a bit of payback for her sending me to..." He trailed off still ashamed at his almost-actions. "The violence in Time Square would be a problem though." he agreed,.
"Who's Dr. Governor?" Curtis suddenly asked the DJ.
"Governor?" Maxwell looked up while he rubbed his glasses clean on his lapel.
"He owns some weird clinic on the island he named himself after."
"I heard he kidnaps folks from Brooklyn to do experiments on."
"Well... folks and raiders." The DJ clarified.
"Damn." Curtis said, not expecting that answer.
"Shouldn't the people know that there some shadow alliance of assholes trying to murder-brainwash them?"
"I guess... That's the least we can do." Maxwell admitted.
"Man, this is so heavy." He then added, feeling a bit sick. He thought he had seen the boundaries of wickedness years ago, he was wrong.
"Yeah, but it needs to be done." Curtis said encouragingly. "Hey I need to grab something from my room, can you wait for me to get back before you go back on the air?" The Ghoul asked as he moved towards the door.
"erm.. Sure." Maxy shrugged. It made little difference to him. Not now... Perhaps in a few moments.
Curtis found what he was looking for after some searching; the spare magazine for his pistol. He slammed it home and chambered a round before going back to Maxwell's room. Seeing the light was still off he re-entered the room.
"You got back fast." Maxwell acknowledged. Slightly busy with looking over the documents again.
His mind was made up though, He'd broadcast the message soon enough.
"Just had to grab something." he replied, not wanting to distract the DJ.
"What time is it?" The DJ then asked a bit confused.
"uhhhhhh" Curtis croaked before looking at his PIp-boy. "about 7:42." He looked up at the Dj with a curious look that turned to concern when he remembered what he was reading.
"Right then. I'll wait another hour. Just so we get more listeners. In the meantime I'll put regular music on." Maxwell replied. Seeing how that was the most logical thing to do.
"Hmm... Swell. You can pick the song from the playlist down here" Maxy leaned back, revealing the records currently available.
Curtis waited a second, making sure He was serious. When Maxwell said nothing, Curtis leaned in examining the titles. After looking through them, he told Maxwell "I've always been fond of Kay Kyser's Slow Boat to China."
"Slow boat it is" The DJ nodded.
A.R.C.
"Dear listeners, it's time for some lovely music. "Hand picked", by a friend; Here is On A Slow Boat To China by Kay Kyser.
Morgan rolled onto her arm and cried out, jolting herself awake with a low groan and a mutter of pain.
Morgan's yelp made Heather jump, causing her to jam the needle in her finger and wince herself, she quickly looked up and threw it all to the side, rushing over to help her patient.
"W-Woah... Just take it easy..." She uttered, trying to get Morgan to roll on her back again.
Morgan whimpered and nodded as she rolled onto her back. She hated feeling like this, but she was a doctor at heart.
It would be best not to move so much.
"I've almost finished the sling, just relax okay?" Heather insisted, softly as she returned to stitching the sling together.
"Sorry about the blood on it... I'm a terrible sewer..."
"S'ok..." Morgan groaned. "So long as it ain't fresh, it'll be f-fine."
"Nah, it's dry... There's only a little to but still." The former slave just shrugged, looking back over her shoulder at the huge hole in the wall as she saw the destroyed city landscape. She turned back to Morgan, curiosity burning at the back of her throat.
"Why are you... out here?"
"Someone blew up my home..." Morgan mumbled, rolling her head to look at Heather. "I moved to Broadway but...it ain't for me."
"We tried getting in there but we didn't have enough to pay the toll..." Heather sighed, though in truth, she didn't care too much.
"Where'd you live before?"
Rook, by this time, had returned to the ruin where he had left Morgan. He squated next to the dead raider, and then let his eyes trail along the floor, to a sepereate blood pool. That must belong to Morgan. He rose to his feet and followed the blood trail out, either droplets or red rimmed footsprints, until coming where that trail almost intercepted with the tire tracks. There was much more blood here. Most likely the result of a shoot out. Rook hesitated, considering following the tred, but noticed that blood trail continued, towards ruins not far away. He elected to search those first before following the tire tracks.
Rook followed the thickening blood trail in the direction of Garry and Heather's building.
"In the wasteland s-south of Fort Morris..." Morgan wheezed. "Was nice. I was on my own..."
"Garry said that there was a man with you..." Heather pointed out, though it didn't sound accusatory.
"I sent him away to deliver our package..." Morgan replied somewhat truthfully.
"When people were shooting at you?" Heather asked, seeming confused at this, Garry wouldn't abandon her in such a situation...
"Yes." Morgan nodded. "It is vital that package got to ARC."
"ARC? Like... The radio station?" Heather asked as shuffling could be heard in the other room, it appeared to be the case that Garry had awoken.
"Ya..." Morgan said dozily. "Mr Maxwell is gonna love what I sent..."
"That whiny voiced prick on the radio?" A familiar male voice called out as a shirtless Garry wandered into the room, scratching the back of his his head as he rolled it around, sleeping in a bathtub does that to people...
"What'd you send 'im?"
"Just..." Heather paused, realising that she didn't want to break confidentiality between herself and her new friend, she let Morgan explain it.
"Documents..." Morgan began, pausing to stretch and groan. "A woman's face..." She added, quite casually.
"Nothing too big."
Garry assumed that she meant a photograph or something, he didn't believe that she was being literal...
"He say that he'd come back for you?" The Wastelander asked as he placed his hands on the back of the couch.
"The guy you were with..."
"He probably will, yeah." Morgan said happily. "Just...don't act like hostiles, and you'll be okay."
"What's his name?" Garry asked, picking up his rifle and wandering over to the hole in the wall as he examined the streets below.
"Why'd you need to know?" Morgan shrugged. "If you run into him, he'll probably ask for me first."
"Yeah? And if we know both of your names, he'll know that we actually talked to you..." Garry pointed out, turning around and slinging the rifle over his shoulder.
"Rook." Morgan said after a little hesitation. "He is...odd however."
"What kind of odd? Cloud coocoo land odd or serial killer odd?" The Wastelander wandered over to Heather's side, placing his hand on her shoulder and prompting her to get up and tend to something else, while he took a seat.
"Serial killer." Morgan admitted, knowing how horrid that sounded. "But he listens to me s-so you're both safe."
"Fine, we've dealt with all kinds..." Garry grumbled, scratching his face as he glanced around the room.
"Did you piss those raiders off before?"
"The Chinese?" Morgan guessed. "Nah...not yet. Hopefully i can get out before I do."
Lord knows the entire Comminist party will be after me.
"From what I've heard? Most people who meet those guys end up as paste on the sidewalk... " He uttered, making sure that his rifle was pointing down to the ground.
"I ain't even seen 'em before either... Not around here at least, must be branchin' out."
"Wouldn't surprise me." Morgan agreed, looking up to the ceiling with a scowl as that awkward silence she knew all to well began to grow.
Garry to fell silent, not really being a fan of small talk, he glanced up to the front door before pulling himself to his feet.
"I'll keep an eye out for Rook... He'll probably go straight back to where he left you."
"Knowing Rook as well as I do?" Morgan stated, keeping a dark chuckle back. "He's already found this place."
"I'll be ready for 'im... Just hope that he's smart enough to not shoot at us..." Garry grumbled, slowly standing up and taking his rifle as he returned to his perch.
"He has orders not to." Morgan reminded Garry. "Like I said. Don't threaten me an we'll be fine."
Rook was now visible from Garry's seat. His eyes were on the road, and he was fast advancing on the building.
"Heather?" Garry asked, looking back over his shoulder as she threw her caravan shotgun over to him, he snatched it in the air and dropped his rifle on the ground before running to the stairway.
That'll be him now then... Morgan thought, looking a little panicked. I hope he won't get mad...
Rook stopped at the door, where the blood trail ending. He flattened his hand against it and pushed.
Garry quickly moved down the stairs, getting his shotgun at the read, just in case Rook had been wrongly identified.
He held it at the ready but refrained from pointing it at him as he waited for the Android to enter...
Rook pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside. He let his hands hang at his sides, both his guns firmly in their holsters.
He scanned the room letting his eyes land on Garry.
"Have you seen a young woman? Approximately 26 years old, curly auburn hair, high cheekbones, tan, brown eyes?"
"You Rook?" Garry asked, though he knew that he most definitely was.
"Morgan said you'd come back..."
Rook's eyes drifted over to the shotgun in Garry's hands.
"We found her outside, Raiders tried to kill her, so we took her in, patched her up best we can. She's fine, in a hotel room upstairs." Garry explained, though he was suspicious at the fact that Rook hadn't said anything.
"May I see her?" But it wasn't a question.
"Y-Yeah... I came down here to take you to her, that okay?" He asked, making sure that he didn't startle Rook by making any sudden movements.
"That is acceptable." Rook agreed, taking steps towards Garry, and then slowly moving up the stairs. "I am following your lead."
Garry nodded and took several steps back making sure that he didn't turn his back on Rook too soon as the Android was acting somewhat suspiciously.
"We managed to get the bullets out 'er arm... Gave her a few stimpaks to help her heal faster."
Rook locked his eyes on Garry's face and canted his head at him.
"She is healthy, though? She's not in any danger?"
Rook wondered why Garry wasn't walking faster, and wished he'd hurry up.
"She's fine, woke up some time ago... She can't sit up yet but she's through the worst of it." The Wastelander explained as he ascended the second flight of stairs.
Rook nodded taking larger strides with his long legs to speed past Garry. He walked into the room, and his instantly locked on Morgan.
As Rook just burst in, without warning, Heather quickly raised her rifle and pointed it at the door as the strange man burst in.
Rook took a glance at Heather.
"I am Rook." He said, deciding he shouldn't blow her brains out on reflex.
He did his best to show he was angry by dramatically furrowing his brow.
Morgan winced and looked sheepishly up at the ceiling.
"Rook." She mumbled, knowing she was gonna be in trouble.
Heather stepped away, falling silent as Garry entered behind the android, she shook her head to signal him to stand down.
"And I kept our package safe." Morgan retaliated, looking through her fingers at Rook. "It was the only thing I could do. D-didn't want to slow us down."
Rook shook his head, stepping closer.
"You know how dearly I hold my freedom. For a moment, you took that away from me. That was not fair."
"It was the only thing I could think of..." Morgan said quietly.
Rook sat at the edge of the bed, near Morgan's feet. He stared at her silently for a long time with a blank expression, before finally speaking.
"It is good to see you are okay."
Morgan scoffed and poked Rook with her shoe playfully. "C'mon now. Don't get all sappy on me." She murmured.
"Repairs'll have to wait a bit I'm afraid. My arms...a little useless right now."
"My flesh will require weeks to heal." Rook noted. "But I have been in worse condition."
He glanced over at Garry and Heather. His inhuman gaze was so emotionless as of that moment it was chilling.
"These two are friendlies?"
"Confirmed..." Morgan groaned. "They took me in, healed me somewhat, and saved me from the assholes with the Mini Gun." She exhaled softly and lowered her hand.
"They're good kids."
"One of us is..." Garry replied, uncharactistically chuckling as he nudged Heather, who just fell silent and rubbed her arm.
"That was not a minigun. A minigun is handheld, and uses smaller rounds. That was a heavy machine gun. 12.7 mm rounds."
"Figured she was better coming with us than going back with... Them..."
"That would be correct." Rook agreed with Garry.
"What do you two identify as?"
"Correction noted..." Morgan sighed, wondering where her sling was.
"I... 'Identify' as Garry." The Wastelander replied, awkwardly before gesturing to Heather.
"She's Heather." He added as the former slave in question waved meekly.
Rook canted his head at Heather.
"This one does not speak?"
Heather looked to Garry before nervously stepping forward.
"N-Not out of turn, Sir..."
"Out of turn?" Rook repeated, confused by the phrase. He glanced at Morgan, then Garry, as if for assistance.
Both of the traveller's fell silent as their gaze fell to the floor...
"Heather used to be a slave..." Garry replied, awkwardly.
"She's still gettin' used to not havin' a collar around her neck."
"I was a slave once." Rook said, his tone soft.
Morgan looked incredibly guilty and she hung her head.
I shouldnt have...
"Is Morgan your master?" Heather asked, getting a quick nudge and a shake of the head from her companion.
Rook shook his head, unfazed. "No, she is my friend. I choose of my own will." He gave Morgan a pointed look, really wanting to hammer it in. "No one controls me."
"Oh... So you're like me and Garry then." Heather replied, cheerily as the Wastelander shook his head and sighed, wandering over to the hole in the wall, to check the streets below.
Morgan chose to remain silent. She shut her eyes, pretending to go to sleep.
Rook, perhaps surprisingly, set a hand on Morgan's leg when he thought she'd gone to sleep.
"I suppose." He glanced around the room. "Do you have any biogel? I need to fix my flesh."
Morgan tried not to react, however, a smile appeared on her face as she 'snoozed'.
"Yeah, we keep a fuckin' ceg of it in the room..." Garry replied, his voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"I don't evenk now what 'biogel' even is."
Rook furrowed his brow. "Then how do you know you have a container of it?"
Garry sighed and returned back to his spotting, even Heather could have seen through that one...
"Erm... He doesn't really, that was... sarcasm." The former slave explained, though she seemed to struggle to recall the word.
"Oh." Rook made his face blank. Once again, his inability to read people had... embarrassed him.
"I will have to await regeneration then." Said Rook sitting up further on the bed, closer to Morgan.
"Erm... Is there anything else that we can give you? I we have bandages and..." Heather than paused, quickly rushing over to the table and snatching the sling, which she quickly brought over to Morgan.
"Make sure she puts that on, it'll make her arm heal faster."
"Finally..." Morgan tittered from her position. "I'll be able to sit up and move again."
When Morgan suddenly revealed she was awake, Rook did his best to stealthily withdraw his hand.
Rook took the sling and held it up for Morgan to put her arm and head through.
"You're gonna have to help me sit up." Morgan sighed in regret. "It...well...be gentle, yea?"
"We have a few medical supplies, if you need them..." Heather uttered, much to Garry's disapproval, they didn't have that much and they might need them later, still he kept his thoughts to himself.
Rook agreed wordlessly, sliding closer to Morgan. He wrapped his fingers around one of her sides and slowly pulled her up into a sitting position.
Morgan groaned quietly, and a little happily as she was moved. The pain was still rather intense, but the woman was just happy to be sitting up properly.
Rook wrapped an arm around the small of her back to support her, and held the sling up for her to duck her head and arm through.
Morgan breathed heavily from the...strain she was in and eventually managed to work herself into the sling.
"Thanks R-rook..."
He smiled at her, not withdrawing his arm just yet.
"I am glad you are still in operation." He whispered, lowering his baritone voice so that rumbled down in his chest.
Morgan blinked and nodded, looking a little embarrassed.
"I... I am glad you came back for me. B-but Hammy'll be pissed off. We're s'posed to wait for him at ARC..."
"We will head there later. He will understand that there was a complication."
"There was three of you?" Heather asked, seeming confused as they only saw two.
Morgan nodded, keeping her smile. "It ain't him I'm worried about. I just want my M40 back."
Rook nodded, "A man named Hamilton. Late twenties, dark hair, medium build."
Morgan nodded, keeping her smile. "It ain't him I'm worried about. I just want my M40 back."
Rook nodded, not having anything to say. He wasn't, as always, much in the way of conversation.
"Erm r-right..." Morgan said awkwardly. "D-d'you need any repairs, Rook?"
"Yes." He said, releasing her, almost reluctantly.
"My flesh is torn on my shoulder, back, and hands. I have also sustained minor endoskeletal damage."
He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the shoulder where the machine gun had blow a chunk of muscle and skin off, revealing the metal underneath. He then pulled the remains of his undershirt over his head. His muscular torso was spotted with wounds. The one in his side had pretty much healed, but his back was a mess of damaged muscle and flesh, a color collage of reds.
"H-Hamilton?" Heather asked, looking back up to Garry for conformation as he lowered his rifle. He'd heard it to...
"H-He's... H-He's found us."
Garry quickly looked over his shoulder, rather angrily, though it was obvious that his anger wasn't directed at anyone in particular and wasn't really anger, more mismanaged fear.
"Heather, we don't know that... It might not even be the same gu-"
"H-He's come for us, h-hasn't he?"
"No, he ain't! He wouldn't come for us, not this far out, it don't make no sense!" Garry snapped, turning back and approaching his guests.
"Garry, we need to..."
"Shut up!" He snapped, glancing back to Morgan.
"Where'd you see 'im? What's he doin' here!?"
"H-hey whoa!" Morgan snapped, rather abruptly. "What do you mean he's come for you? I ain't telling you shit, until you explain!"
Rook just looked confused.
"Does he have a pip boy? Beard? Wear a hat?" The Wastelander continued to bark at her, as if he was playing a high stakes game of 'guess who.'
"Where the fuck is 'e now!?"
"Christ...calm down." Morgan snapped back at Garry as she ran her hand softly over Rooks back.
"I can get you fixed up, don't worry..." She sighed, glancing back to Garry.
"I dunno where he is now."
Rook elected to remain silent.
"You said 'e was at the radio station? That... ARC thing, right?" Garry asked, looking back up to Heather, who stood there fear struck.
"Pack your shit, we're movin' on."
"Why must you avoid Hamilton?"
"Who says I'm avoidin' him?" Garry asked, pulling the bolt back on his rifle to check that there was a round in it.
"I'm gonna shoot the bastard before he gets the chance to shoot me."
"As I said, you need to calm down and explain." Morgan sighed. "And fetch me some forceps or tweezers or something."
Heather instinctively ran off to find them, Garry fell silent before lowering his rifle and glancing up to Morgan.
"Hamilton possesses superior combat prowess, skills, and training to you. He is more heavily armed, armoured, and experienced. To attack him would be strategically inadvisable. It would be self-termination." Rook explained calmly.
"Tell Morgan what she wants to know."
"Has he told you anythin' about who he is? What he is?"
"What are you?!" Asked Maxwell.
"He is a human."
"I didn't say that I was goin' to attack him up front either... I was gonna shoot the fool from two blocks away." Garry hissed before awaiting Morgan's response.
"Nope. He's a bit of a prick, but he hasn't exactly been bad to us, y'know?" Morgan said in response, giving Rook a worried glance.
"Reveal the information to us." Said Rook, not returning Morgan's look. His eyes were firmly locked on Garry. "It sounds like need-to-know."
"Yeah... He's like that, difficult to read and whatnot?" Garry sighed, scratching his head as he tried to think on how to phrase this, lowering his voice.
"Heather... When she said earlier, about bein' a slave? She was... Hamilton's slave, kept in a pen with the others, Hamilton is... or was a slaver, like me."
Rook stiffened, and Morgan could feel ever muscle of his coil, and the servos underneath tighten, like he was about to be in a fight.
"He's a sociopath." Said Rook his voice emotion free, recalling what he had called Morgan when they had first met.
"And I'm supposed to care?" Morgan muttered, shrugging at Garry. "I don't know you, just like I don't really know him. You could be lying for all I know."
Rook's eyes focused on Garry. His eyes were sharp enough to stare holes through the Wastelander. "Are you lying, Garry?"
"You asked, didn'cha? Besides, you believe Hamilton over anyone else?" Garry asked, not seeming remotely bothered by her response.
"Fuck it, I don't care what you believe, I just need to get to Arc..."
Rook's eyes focused on Garry. His eyes were sharp enough to stare holes through the Wastelander. "Are you lying, Garry?"
"Why would I lie about this? I didn't know that you knew that prick, if I did I wouldn't h've let Heather talk me into riskin' my neck you."
So he was gonna leave me to die?
"May as well all go together then." Morgan mumbled. "Least we can get an explanation or something."
"Maybe you can, soon as I catch wind of 'im, I'm hidin' in the nearest building and taking my shot." Garry shrugged, not giving a rat's ass about 'honour' or whatever.
Rook shook his head.
"I will confront him. I require the truth. If you are lying, I will walk away, and let you shoot him. If he is a slaver, I will terminate him myself."
"That's...your choice to make, Rook." Morgan agreed, still feeling bad for earlier.
"Fine by me, I only care about the asshole bein' dead." Garry shrugged, locking the bolt back in place.
Rook picked up his jacket, abandoning the undershirt. He was silent as he pulled it on, but it was clear that the fabric brushing over his wounds pained him.
"Will you need assistance moving, Morgan?" Asked Rook, rising to his feet.
"I'll be okay, now that my arm is resting." Morgan smiled, giving Rook a thankful nod when he pulled her up to her feet.
Rook nodded his approval, before glancing over at Garry and Heather.
"I am ready to move out."
Heather re-emerged from the kitchen, holding the medical tools that Morgan mentioned, she seemed to be wearing a small green rucksack, that was teeming with supplies and carrying an almost identical but purple rucksack in her hand, which she quickly tossed to Garry for him to put it on.
"Yeah, we carry eachother's packs..." Garry winced as he tried to roll his arm into the strap.
"Wasn't gonna say anything." Morgan shrugged. "Hope we don't run into trouble..."
With that, Rook lead the group down the stairs, and out the building, then in the direction of ARC.
"We're usually a good team... We made it all the way from Dee Sea together." Heather replied, happily as she wrapped both hands around her Caravan Shotgun.
"You might wanna hang back though, stay close to one of us, until your arm heals..." Garry added as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.
"I will, no issues there." Morgan snickered, lacing her good hand in her pocket. "I can still toss the whole one grenade I have left..."
"Hmm... Y'know, you could throw it without pullin' the pin, Raiders usually flip their shit and don't notice." Garry smirked as Heather just followed Rook, seeming distracted.
Rook was silent, his hands resting on the butts of his holstered guns. He scanned the road as they walked, ever wary.
"Bah there is no fun in that." Morgan chuckled. "I like to watch the explosions."
Garry couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head as they left the hotel room, for the last time.
"Heh, I used to love mines as a kid... Watchin' 'em from far away, waiting for a radscorpion to set one off..."
"Pff, I still love em now." Morgan reminisced.
"In fact, my old home, was surrounded by mines I'd made myself. Kept me well protected..."
"Heh, I'll bet... I thought about doin' it myself but I'd hate to come home drunk and have to walk my way through it." Garry shrugged, with a sigh as they wandered out of the room. The Wastelander left the door open, seeing no reason to close it.
"Oh, well, I never needed to worry about that. I... don't get drunk..." Morgan trailed off, falling quiet.
"Heh... Neither does Heather..." The Wastelander smiled as his eyes fell on her again.
"I gave her whiskey once, never seen 'er freak out that much over anythin'."
When ARC slid into view, Rook held up his hand to halt the group.
"Garry, I want you up in that building. You're overwatch. I want you in that store front, Heather. You're the street sweeper with the shotgun. Morgan, you go with Garry. I will head to the front of ARC to confront Hamilton. Remain in cover, do not tip him off." Rook issued orders with the calmness and fluency of a five-star general. On the battlefield he was in his element.
"Mph, if it goes wrong, just be careful, alright?" Morgan said in worry. "I don't want you coming back needing even more repairs..."
"Morgan should take my shotgun and cover Heather, it'd take a load off my mind if those two were together." Garry insisted, glancing up to the aforementioned tower.
"Morgan will have difficulty reloading a shotgun." He pulled his pistol from it's holster and handed it to Morgan
"Use this. Go with Heather, Morgan."
"You...er...thanks..." Morgan smiled, giving the android a small nod.
"It is a 12.7 mm. It has a powerful recoil." He warned, before moving to his position at the front of ARC.
Hamilton decloaked as he reached Mike's Auto, he wasn't able to move very quickly whilst cloaking and he didn't see the need to stay that way, considering that he was away from the dangers of Broadway...
He glanced over to the auto repair shop as he realised that he had come full circle, a fact that he would resent if it weren't for the fact that he was somewhat better off for it. Well, maybe he could have been better off if he didn't pay the entrance fee and kept moving. Still, it was done now and he got a pretty impressive M40 rifle out of the deal.
The only problem was that he was now weighed down with his assault rifle, sniper rifle and multiple pistols and that he wouldn't be able to move as fast as before. Realising this, Hamitlon realised that travelling the streets wouldn't exactly be safe, if he was attacked by another one of those ninjas, he'd have to abandon one of his weapons to get away.
He was probably much better off in the sewer...
The Wastelander drew his crowbar, from his hip and began to pry open one of the manhole covers, it took a great deal of effort on his part but eventually, he was able to pry it off. It made a terrible noise in the process, one that would have likely drawn some attention towards him but it didn't concern him as he could vanish before anyone could reach him, assuming that nobody was watching him already.
Hamilton began his descent, into the sewer, carefully making his way down the ladder to avoid falling. Breaking a bone would be the worst thing he could do, down here as there would be no way back up then...
He eventually turned around and activated the glow of his pip boy, to illuminate the path ahead. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect down here, maybe a few ferals or mirelurks, if either of those things dwelled in New York...
Who knows, there maybe something new down here...
Hamilton drew his Berretta and slowly began his descent, into the dank, dark sewer tunnels, he could hear the dripping of radioactive water up ahead and his Geiger counter began to tick as he began to detect mild levels of radiation in the surrounding waters.
He kept his crowbar at the ready, in his other hand as he descended deeper inside...
"I see trees of green...
Red roses to...
I see them bloom...
For me and you...
And I think to myself... What a wonderful world..."
The singing, which was only just louder than the record that backed it, echoed softly throughout the tunnels. It sounded somewhat weak and croaky, though there was no real indication that the female voice was remotely sick. It sounded more like someone's deranged grandmother...
Hamilton kept moving onwards, keeping his gun at the ready, whoever this person was had been down here long enough to get power hooked up to some kind of music player and that meant that they had been living down here for a while. Their brains were probably soup...
The Wastelander remained silent as the moved deeper in, coming up to a door, that lead to a drainage clearing of some sort. He gently pushed it open, with his pip boy hand and slowly stepped inside, wanting to get the drop on this person if they were hostile... or not...
"The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky...
Are also on the faces of people going by...
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do...
But they're really saying I love you..."
Hamilton finally stepped out, from behind cover, re-activating his cloaking device again as he peered around and got a look at the owner of this... shit hole.
Before him stood a dimly lit room, which was surprisingly well furnished, it had a cheap, plastic dining table at the center of the room, along with several knick knacks that had rotted away, sculptures of horses giddyup buttercups, a whole fleet of them in a row. There also stood a lamp and several variously coloured and patterned plastic chairs.
The woman herself was stood over a wash basin, seemingly washing plates, though if the plate in her hand was anything like the broken pot shards that filled the 'dry' bowl next to her, then it was obvious that she was deliriously 'washing' the plates in a wash basin filled with nothing, with a dirty rag.
She wore an incredibly dirty, green, pre war dress and her skin had long since rotted away, along with her hair, for the most part. It was quite clear, from a first glance, that she was trapped in some delusional nostalgic fantasy of some sort. Maybe it was her way of coping with the nuclear holocaust...
Hamilton lingered in the shadows, quickly realising that someone this delusional is either psychotically aggressive or mostly harmless, he hoped for the latter, though in truth, he'd be up for another fight...
"I hear baby's crying and I watched them grow...
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know...
And I think to myself what a wonderful world..." She continued to scrub some more as the track went into an instrumental phase as she stared up, wistfully at the ceiling for a brief moment, though it was impossible to tell what she was thinking.
"Yes, I think to myself what a wonderful world..."
The second that the last note played, she dropped the plate into the 'water,' causing it to shatter. The Ghoul winced as she heard the porcelain explosion as the half a plate landed at the center of the basin.
"Oh... Oh dear..." She uttered, bringing a finger up to her non-existent lips.
"What... What was... What was I doing?" She asked, pondering it some more as she slowly rose to her feet, rattling her brains to try and remember her purpose in the world.
"Oh... Oh yes... It's Friday, m-my favourite show is about to start!" The ghoul concluded, quickly rushing over to the other side of the room as she approached a radio, a radio that looked like it had served as a substitute for a baseball at some point.
The Ghoul quickly pulled up the broken antenna on the radio, turning the dial on the front to find the right 'channel.' The device wasn't even plugged in of course, so it made no difference.
"I hope that I can find the right frequency before it starts..." She uttered, turning the dial back and to, whilst Hamilton moved closer in. In a rare turn of events, the Wastelander stopped watching where he was going and accidentally kicked one of the cans on the ground or maybe it was a cookie to that senile old bitch, either way it got her attention.
"Wh-What?" She asked, turning around as if someone had addressed her, staring cluelessly into the darkness. She listened out for a moment or two before heading towards the front door.
"Must be someone at the door..." She uttered, wandering over to it and walking right past the cloaked intruder. Hamilton just kept his eyes on her as she went over to the door, opening it swiftly and sticking her head out...
Silence...
She looked around the immediate area before shrugging it and closing the door and sighing heavily as she re-entered her 'house.'
"Maybe it was Bob, trying to return my toaster... He's had it for so long now, I think that he's fallen in love with it." She sighed, returning to her dining table and taking a seat, glancing up to the radio.
Hamilton just continued to observe her, she didn't seem to be aggressive, though her demented state did amuse him somewhat. It was so strange, it's like she didn't see anything or that she was ignoring it all...
The Ghoul sat at the center of the room, picking up a spoon at the center of the table and putting it in her mouth, gently running it along her tongue.
He wondered if her tongue was the only thing left that could truly feel anything, it wouldn't surprise him...
As 'fun' as this was for Hamilton, he needed to keep moving, he decided to creep through the room, to the next set of tunnels, seeing that he needed to get there in order to get back to ARC. As he began to make his next move, he heard a loud 'zap' sound, emit from his suit as his cloaking device failed.
Fuck!
The Ghoul shuddered a little, the sound clearly startled her, though her perception was somewhat off and she immediately wandered over to the radio.
"Darn... I was afraid that this would happen..." She sighed, adjusting the dial some more.
"I told John to get that other model..." She added, uttering in an annoyed tone as she turned the dial back and forth, sighing heavily as she grew more and more frustrated.
Hamilton realised that this was his only opportunity to get the jump on her, if he could restrain her, she wouldn't be a threat to him anymore, hostile or not.
He slowly began to creep up on her, moving as slowly as possible, to avoid detection. He wasn't the best at sneaking but he was able to move rather quietly at a medium pace. He just hoped that it was enough to be able to grab her before she turned around...
"Hmm... Maybe it needs a new battery..." She thought aloud, even though it clearly had a wire... well, half a wire, sticking out the back of it.
Without any indication that she would do so, she quickly turned around and found herself face to visor with Hamilton, quickly freezing on the spot as she found herself to be too confused to be afraid or even to speak...
Hamilton just froze on the spot, not having a clue what to do at this point, if anything, this put her to the test and considering how awkward this position was, he hoped that she would 'pass' it.
Rook wasn't aware that he and his people were being observed from above, his two pursuers observed him intently, through their visors before making their move.
The first one jumped down, off of the Arc Building, drawing a Chinese sword, that they aimed to run right through Rook's chest on impact. They plummeted down, at lightning speed, just over Rook's head...
Rook's targeting sight picked up movement out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up to see the assassin. Rook didn't even need to pull out his gun. At the last moment, he stepped out of the way, letting the ninja go splat.
To his surprise, the ninja landed in a crouching position before doing a sweeping kick, knocking the android's legs from underneath him.
Rook remained upright, but stumbled backwards, losing his balance. He regained his footing, and then advanced on the ninja. His walk was menacing, but he kept his face blank.
The ninja did a quick horizontal slash at an incredibly fast speed, slicing across Rook's stomach.
The sword cut into Rook's stomach, cleaving through the flesh, but caught in the titanium underneath. With that, Rooks seized the ninja's wrist with his hand, and crushed the bones in it.
Rook could hear the ninja cry out in pain, through his visor as he constantly pulled at his arm. As he did so, Rook felt another slash, this time going across his back as another Jian cloaked behind him.
Rook stumbled forward from the force of blow, into his original attacker. He seized the first ninja around the throat, lifting him off the ground, then swung him around like a rag doll, trying to catch the cloaked Jian.
The cloaked Jian didn't seem to be in the path of his comrade's rag dolled body as he had seemingly dodged the attack. As soon as his comrade was clear, he slashed at Rook's left leg, slicing through his calf muscle.
Rook threw the first Jian to the ground, buckling at the knee when the sword sliced through his leg. He pulled his shotgun free in fluid movement and fired at where the attack had come from.
The Jian quickly rolled to the side, to avoid the shotgun blast before slicing upwards, at Rook's body, the attack was somewhat clumsy, due to the fact that he had just recovered from the roll.
Rook stepped back, to avoid the blow, then threw his weight forward in a punch, powerful enough to knock his enemy's brains out.
The Jian accounted for this as well, quickly shifting his head to the side before slashing at Rook's now exposed arm and rolling back, slowly backing away and reactivating his stealth mechanics.
The sword sliced into Rook's arm, cleanly, but again bounced off the metal underneath. Rook retreated, levelling his shotgun in front of him. He began to fire rapidly in an arc and pump the lever, spraying the air with dangerous metal.
The Jian quickly hopped away, scattering as the bullets sprayed all around the immediate area before vanishing once more, it was unknown if they had retreated or if they were just calculating their next move...
Rook calmly reloaded shells in his shotgun, whilst using his targeting sight to latch onto the Jian's location, trying to determine where he was.
The cloaking device appeared to be playing hell with Rook's targeting system, sometimes he could get a beat on the target but he'd instant lose it and find himself unable to trace it.
Hamilton quickly felt the Ghoul's flesh rotten hands wrap around his helmet, as she examined the faceplate. It confused her at first but she was eventually able to see that it was indeed a helmet, which she quickly pried off of the Wastelander's head, staring intently at his face.
There was a long pause as the already confused Ghoul just continued to stare at the equally as confused wastelander before tilting her head to the side, with a degree of uncertainty.
"J-John?" She asked, gently stroking Hamilton's cheek with her flaky fingers, the sensation made him shiver a little as it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Normally he'd pull her hand away and break her wrist but, in this instance,, he found himself to be completely dumbstruck by her reaction.
Just as his brain comprehended him being called 'John' he found that his left cheek had been grabbed and his head had been pulled forward, so that his lips met with her incredibly chapped, lipless mouth as she kissed him deeply. The housewife's black, yet still slimy tongue rubbed against his, giving Hamilton a mouthful of slimy rotting flesh. He'd tasted worse in his life but he really couldn't remember when...
After a few moments she pulled away, placing her hands on his shoulders and wrapping her bony fingers around them, giving him a warm smile as she relaxed.
"My John... You came back in one piece..." She smiled, tilting her head to the side as she admired her... presumed husband. Hamilton wasn't sure if he resembled 'John' or not, maybe the only similarities was the fact that they were both male?
"You must be exhausted, after your trip from Anchorage... T-Take a seat, I'll make you something to drink..."
Hamilton remained silent and took a seat in his chair, finding himself to be staring at her as she wandered from one part of her 'kitchen' to the other. She appeared to be carrying a watering can, which Hamilton assumed was her kettle and half a cup. She brought them both over to Hamilton's place at the table and began to pour dirty water into the cup, which quickly began to overflow, due to the fact that it had a huge chunk missing out of it.
Hamilton just stared at the cup as the watering can was placed on the table and the woman took a seat, opposite him.
"I'm afraid that that coffee might be a bit strong... I'm out of milk." She informed him, though Hamilton had no intensions of drinking it or... licking it off of the table, like a damn cat.
She began to lean forward, propping her head up with her hands as her two forearms made a triangle and she leant on her elbows, watching her returned husband through a dreamy haze.
"This is better than biscuits on a sunday morning..." She said, happily, unaware of the fact that Hamilton was seemingly at a loss for words. Surely she can't have survived down here for two hundred or so years, could she? Maybe the raiders would have been creeped out and would have fled the second that she made them tea or maybe she killed them and wore their skin as a dress or to patch up her own.
"Clive said that he'd call in today, he'll get such a shock, when he sees you here..."
The Wastelander glanced down to his coffee before sighing heavily, wondering if Clive was a real person or just another figment of her imagination.
Either way, he didn't want to stick around to find out...
"I can't wait around, I'm going back to Anchorage soon..." He uttered, feeling too uncomfortable to speak properly, so it came out as a loud mumble.
In truth, he kind of liked this Ghoul, she was delusional sure but out of her, Ray and Mother Delusional, she was probably his favourite. At least she was amusing...
However, his words seemingly went over her head, she just blinked, wondering if she heard him right. He didn't speak last time or the time before that... It sounded so tinny and hollow his voice, so... wrong...
Hamilton just remained silent, until she got over the shock of hearing another human's voice, for the first time in possibly two hundred years.
"Well, you can't go, without seeing Clive..." She decided, giving him another smile as she took his 'coffee' and began to drink it, forgetting that it was his, she slowly got up and wandered over to her record player, putting on another song to drown out the silence or the voices in her head... [()]
Hamilton remained silent once more, slowly slipping his hand under the table before hitting the base of it, twice with the knuckle of his middle finger.
To her, it sounded like knocking...
"Oh... That must be Clive!" She gasped, slowly pulling herself to her feet and rushing over, giving Hamilton the chance to reactivate his cloaking device, slipping his helmet back on and slipping back into the shadows of the housewife's back room.
"H-Hello?"
Hamilton ignored her and turned around, looking at the mattress, that she slept on and the quilt she had, that was incredibly dirty and scuffed. However, he did notice something, on her bedside table, it looked like half of a pair of sheers. It looked like a machete from where he was stood, though it was clearly inferior.
He picked it up and holstered it, letting it hang on his waist, next to his crowbar. He missed his machete and Marcia... Maybe they were still on the bridge, back towards Sandford?
As he examined the woman's stuff, he heard her screams echo throughout her 'house.' He quickly drew his newly acquired blade and quickly rushed out to investigate. As he appeared out of her room, he immediately saw the problem, she was apparently being advanced on by an eight foot tall mirelurk, that did not look happy to see her.
She quickly backed away from it and grabbed her rolling pin, an odd weapon of choice for the wasteland but it could be effective in skilled or psychotic hands.
Hamilton stepped forward and drew his crowbar as well, he'd need a blunt instrument and a sharp instrument in order to take on a mirelurk without firing a shot.
"How dare you burst into my house at this hour! Get out before my husband catches you!" The Ghoul barked in the Mirelurk's general direction, though it wasn't having much of an effect on the creature.
Finding herself to be frustrated with the fact that this beast was ignoring her, the ghoulified housewife quickly lashed out at the crustacean being, striking her wooden baking tool against his hard shell, finding herself to be shocked at the fact that it simply bounced off.
She looked up to the Mirelurk with a degree of terror, slowly tilting her head to the side.
"Y-You're not a teddy boy, are you?"
Hamilton just rolled his eyes and stepped in, swiftly plunging his blade into the creature's face. The Mirelurk didn't see Hamilton until his blade had sunk into its exposed face and as a result, didn't seem to react to it.
The creature flailed its pincers around as Hamilton threw his crowbar to the floor and jumped onto its body, throwing his whole body weight onto it as he pushed it onto its back, knowing that it wouldn't be able to get back up.
The creature stumbled backwards and eventually fell in the Ghoul's doorway, giving Hamilton the opportunity to finish it off, whilst it was defenceless...
He snatched the blade's handle which was still jutting out of the creature's face and thrusted it down, repeatedly. The creature was able to deflect the first of the stab attempts with its aimlessly flailing pincers, knocking the Wastelander off balance and causing him to fall to the left a little before the crap creature wrapped its pincers around his waste and began to crush them. Not only were the sharp, jagged edges of the claws sticking in his stomach and back but he was also having the live squeezed out of him, even his stealth suit could protect him from that.
Hamilton's pain induced rage fuelled his strength and, as a result, he was able to thrust his half a garden sheer into the mirelurk's face once more. Though the initial strike was a lot weaker than his last attempt, he was able to sink it pretty deeply inside the fleshy part of the otherwise rock-like creature. The mirelurk, continued to thrash and flail, wrapping its pincers around Hamilton's waste as it crushed him some more, this time using the other arm as well as it began to crush his ribs.
With another pain induced cry as he felt one of his lower ribs fracture, Hamilton drove the sheer deeper into the creature's face but only by a mere inch. His strength was feigning, due to the damage occurred by the creature's strength and natural weapons.
As he felt himself losing the war, so to speak, he could feel a shadow briefly cast over him as his 'wife.' Rushed around and began to beat the creature's head in with her rolling pin, bringing it down on the sheer's handle and sending it deeper and deeper into the crab's skull. By the third or forth whack, the blade had sunk straight into the creature's brain, causing its grip to go lax and for its arms to fall limp by its sides...
The Wastelander gasped as he pulled himself up, finding himself to be incredibly confused at the fact that his rescuer had just wandered back inside her house and shut the door, presumably she had forgotten about him as she went back on one of her delirious tangents...
Hamilton quickly drew the sheers from out of the mirelurk's face and sighed, scratching his head as he rose to his feet and examined the sewer tunnels ahead. He couldn't go back to her, even if she could help him, he didn't want her help he couldn't eat her either as she wasn't human anymore...
His only way of surviving was ARC... He had to get there before he passed out...
Rook bent down, keeping his gun up, and retrieved the first attacker's sword. He held it at the ready, prepared to knock attacks away and strike out.
The second Jian materialised behind Rook, attacking his back with a horizontal slash of his sword.
The instant Rook felt the blade bite his back, Rook retaliated, spinning around 180* and swinging out across his body, simultaneously firing a shotgun blast at where he assumed the Jian was.
The second Jian jumped up and kicked Rook's shotgun, knocking it to his right before it could shoot his comrade, however, the Jian's head immediately exploded, followed by the echo of a gunshot.
Garry's aim was as good as he said and he instantly killed the stealth warrior with one shot.
Rook relaxed when the second warrior fell dead, dropping the Chinese sword and sliding his shotgun back into its holster.
He was covered in slices across his legs, arms, chest, stomach, and back. He was in desperate need of repairs.
Rook hadn't noticed that the second Jian warrior was still alive and ready to avenge his fallen comrade. He jumped up, pouncing Rooka and bringing him down to the floor as he got ready drive a knife through his 'heart.'
However, he didn't get any further than drawing the blade as a gunshot echoed throughout the surrounding area and the Jian's head was thrown to the side, his body swayed from side to side before he finally keepled over dead.
The Jian eventually rolled off of Rook, as his killer stod, with his gun still aimed at the body, in case it got back up again. Rook's saviour was another Jian, clad in the same armour, though he clearly wasn't a stealth warrior.
Rook's rescuer stumbled back and fell onto the floor, clutching at his injuries, deep wounds that bled through his armour...
Rook advanced on Hamilton, who was bleeding heavily. The man didn't look like he'd make it, but Rook didn't see how he was supposed to help Hamilton, even if he wanted to. They didn't have the medical capabilities to treat something liek this.
Rook did a quick assessment.
"You are losing a large quantity of blood." Rook noted.
"Y-You think?" Hamilton asked, his voice was trembling somewhat as blood seeped through his suit.
"You are a slaver." Rook stated. stepping closer to Hamilton, so that he was standing over him, his boots squeaking against a puddle of blood.
Morgan glanced over at the pair, then looked back up at Garry. Her M40 was so close now...
"Technically, I'm retired..." Hamilton corrected him, trying to pull himself up but quickly finding himself slipping back down into a sitting position.
"Wait... Who told you that?"
"I am an Infiltrator." Rook said in monotone, like that explained everything. "I am also a Terminator." He put stepped forward and put a heavy boot on Hamilton's gun, and the cold barrel of the shotgun against the back of the man's head.
"I was a slave. I am free now. I will not let you subjugate anymore people."
"It's not me that you need to worry about... It's the people I used to run with..." Hamilton pointed out, his eyes glanced up to meet Rook's as they narrowed.
"I am a Terminator." Rook repeated. "And killing you will... complete me." If that makes any sense.
Rook felt like Hamilton had dirtied him and killing the slaver would satisfy a mission of his. So to speak.
"Regardless, if I do not, someone else will. It is in your nature to destroy yourselves."
"Rook..." Morgan warned, stepping forward warily. "Calm down..."
"Rook... Knowing what you know now, does it change anything? I still saved Morgan's life, I still saved yours, no matter what I've done or am going to do, that remains true." The Wastelander pointed out, though his voice was considerably weaker, due to the damage he'd taken from the mirelurk.
Rook, as usual, was the picture of calmness. He did not spare Morgan a glance.
"Negative. It changes everything. I would never have agreed to work with you in the first place, had I possessed the intelligence that I do now."
"Well you're gonna have to kill me too, based on your logic!" Morgan belted out. "Do you see how flawed it is?"
Hamilton's eye remained fixated on Rook's staring him down without an inch of fear, it isnt' the first time that he had stared down the barrel of a gun.
As Morgan spoke, Rook liberated the M40 from Hamilton's back, and tossed it to her.
But, other than that, Rook still ignored Morgan. He did not have to listen to her. He never had to listen to anyone ever again. He was self-determinant. If he judged Hamilton to die, because his ideologically challenged Rook's own, then he would die. Rook was a Terminator, and killing people was what he did. His logic was not flawed. Rook did not make mistakes.
He squeezed the trigger.
The gun clicked- empty. There weren't any shells left in the chamber. Without a moment's hesitation, Rook kicked up with his free boot, smashing the toe of it into Hamilton's face.
"Rook!" Morgan snapped, catching the rifle and growling loudly in pain. "C'mon. Just leave it!"
Hamilton's head rolled to the side as a trail of blood rolled out of it, wiping it off with his arm as he checked his hand, he didn't even make a sound to acknowledge the pain and just appeared to be checking to make sure that it was okay...
Rook backed away from Hamilton, never taking his eyes off of the retired slaver.
"I have received orders from people like him since I existed, Morgan." Rook stated. He slid more shells into his shotgun, and retrieved his pistol from Morgan. He slid the former weapon in it's holster, preferring the 12.7.
"Garry will terminate him. Let us depart. I require repairs."
"Hrrh..." Morgan mumbled before hanging her head and nodding. "Alright, let's go get you fixed up..."
Hamilton slowly drew his Berretta and pulled the hammer back as his shaky hand slowly rose up from his lap and he placed Rook in his sites...
Figuring that he had a great deal of armour plating protecting him, the Slaver knew that there was only one thing that he could hit with this gun at this calibre...
His heart...
He slowly moved his arm a little to the right, making sure that Morgan was in his sites, his hand was shaking, incredibly so, making his crosshair dance around before his eyes before he finally pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out, throughout the district, no other noise to compete with it... As the shot's sound faded away, Morgan's blue jacket slowly began to turn purple as an immense amount of pain shot through her stomach...
Morgans eyes widened in shock and her hands instantly flew to her stomach. The M40 clattered to the ground and the woman fell to her knees.
She trembled, looking up into Hamiltons eyes, a sense of betrayal lingering in them before she fell forwards, blood seeping from her gut...
P-prick. I was de-defending you...
Morgan rolled onto her back, and looked into the hazy grey sky of New York City.
Why did I ever leave home!?
I was safer alone.
Hamilton then turned his gun on Rook, quickly firing a shot at the Android's head, though he didn't see if it connected as he was too busy crawling away. The Slaver managed to scramble back up to his feet as he hobbled back to the manhole, quickly finding himself cut off by a bullet, that cut his path off.
Garry cursed under his breath as he pulled the latch back, finding that his hands trembled due to the intensity of the situation before he had the chance again, Hamilton fired two more shots at Rook before making his descent, throwing his legs down the hole and jumping off of the ladder before retreating deeper inside the dank tunnels...